My sister, whom I raised, has turned evil after faking her death for three years.

Time passes silently.

It seems like just yesterday Jiang Ran was holding that lop-eared rabbit, standing at the school gate looking up at the sycamore tree, but today she can already casually flip through a junior high school level competition problem set during break, then push the workbook aside, resting her chin on her hand and listening to the two guys next to her bicker.

Over the past few years, her life has been filled with a few fixed things: strawberry milk that her sister stuffs into her schoolbag in the morning, the sound of Cheng Xiaoyu and Jiang Yi bickering on either side of her during breaks, and the aroma of sweet and sour pork ribs wafting from the kitchen in the evening.

She liked this kind of life—peaceful, regular, and each day was almost the same as the last. "Almost" was the best word for her.

Of course, there are changes, but just like the leaves of a sycamore tree changing from green to yellow, the color changes imperceptibly.

Cheng Xiaoyu grew taller during the summer vacation of fourth grade. His originally chubby figure became longer, his baby fat on his face faded a lot, and the lines of his cheekbones and jaw began to become more angular, but his voice was still the same.

Jiang Yi's baby fat has disappeared, and her pigtails have been replaced with a neat single ponytail. When she smiles, her eyes crinkle, and when she is quiet, she exudes a ladylike demeanor, of course, only when she is not arguing with Cheng Xiaoyu.

The person who changed the most was Jiang Ran herself.

Her features had matured, and the childishness in her eyes had faded, replaced by a quiet, aloof beauty.

It's the kind of plant that's stunning at first glance, and the more you look at it, the more comfortable you feel, like a pothos plant that's just been watered on the windowsill in the morning—clean and beautiful.

  

Every time Su Qing waited for her at the school gate and watched the little girl walk towards him with her schoolbag, she couldn't help but think to the system, "My Xiao Ran is getting prettier and prettier."

The system's response also changed from initial silence to fixed replies, each one precisely criticizing Su Qing's "sister" filter as becoming increasingly heavy.

Su Qing didn't care at all; she felt that the system didn't understand what vision was.

But Jiang Ran herself knew that she wasn't getting prettier; she was just starting to look more and more like her older sister.

She secretly learned Su Qing's unhurried walking pace, the slight upward curve of Su Qing's left eyebrow when she frowned, and even Su Qing's habit of tapping the rim of the cup twice before unscrewing the lid.

She did these things very discreetly, so discreetly that even Su Qing herself didn't notice.

But she knew in her heart that she didn't want to become the older sister; she wanted to carry the mark of the older sister on herself, the more the better.

I don't know when that feeling started to change. Maybe it was when the setting sun fell on her side as her sister hummed a song while chopping vegetables one evening. Maybe it was when her sister knelt down to tie her shoelaces and her fingertips accidentally brushed against her ankle. Maybe it was in the countless nights when her sister sang lullabies that those melodies had long since softened her heart.

She liked her older sister, liked her very much. It wasn't the kind of liking a younger sister has for her older sister, but something deeper and stronger, something she herself couldn't quite explain.

She knew she couldn't say it, but she never thought it was a problem. Anyway, she wanted to be with her sister forever, and she would figure out what "forever" meant someday.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

During a break in fifth grade that autumn, Jiang Ran was sitting in her seat explaining a variation of the "chicken and rabbit in the same cage" problem to Jiang Yi.

The fluorescent lights in the classroom were blindingly bright. Several boys were running back and forth in the aisle. One of them, wearing red sneakers, was running the fastest. When he passed Jiang Ran's desk, his elbow suddenly hit the corner of the desk.

The light pink pencil case tipped off the table, the lid popped open, and pencils, erasers, and rulers scattered all over the floor.

That was the pencil case Su Qing bought for Jiang Ran when she first started school. Su Qing had wanted to replace it for Jiang Ran for a long time, but Jiang Ran said this one looked better, so she has been using it ever since. The lid has a little white rabbit holding a carrot printed on it, and the edges have been worn and have become slightly rough, but Jiang Ran has kept it clean.

The classroom fell silent instantly.

Jiang Yi was sitting next to Jiang Ran, waiting for her to draw auxiliary lines. When she saw the pencil case on the ground, her face turned pale, and then a layer of anger rose up.

The boy in the red sneakers hadn't noticed the change in the atmosphere around him. He glanced down at the stationery scattered on the ground and said with a grin, "Pick it up yourself."

Jiang Ran didn't look at him. She stood up from her seat, squatted down, closed the lid of the pencil case, and then picked up the scattered pencils one by one, stacking them back into the case very gently, as if afraid of breaking something.

Jiang Yi also squatted down to help, picking up the eraser that had rolled to the side of the podium and placing it next to Jiang Ran.

Jiang Yi stood up, looked coldly at the boy, and said in a low but clear voice, "Apologize."

The boy in the red sneakers was almost a head taller than her. He looked down at the two girls in front of him with a nonchalant smile: "Why should I apologize? It's just a broken pencil case."

The moment the words "broken pencil case" landed, the students who had been whispering to each other fell silent.

Everyone in the class knows that you can say bad things about anyone, but you can't say bad things about Jiang Ran, let alone anything about Jiang Ran's stuff.

Last semester, an older boy mocked Jiang Ran for having a "broken" backpack. Jiang Ran, who looked small, punched him in the nose, and blood dripped onto her school uniform collar. After that, no one dared to touch her things.

The boy in the red sneakers was clearly unaware of this history. Several of his friends gathered around him, laughing and joking, to cheer him on. One of them even reached out and fiddled with the pencil case that had already been picked up on the table, saying, "Why would you use such a childish pencil case?"

Before the finger could even touch the lid, a hand firmly clamped down on the wrist from below.

Jiang Ran had stood up at some point, her five fingers gripping the other man's wrist bone, her fingertips sinking into the indentation on the inside of his wrist. The force wasn't great, but the position was so precise that the boy couldn't exert any strength in his entire right arm.

"Want to make a move?" Jiang Ran's voice was calm.

The boy's face turned bright red, and he pushed her shoulder with his other hand.

Jiang Ran stepped aside, using his momentum to twist his right arm behind his back, and gently pushed his knee into the back of his knee. The boy, who was half a head taller than her, was forced to kneel on one knee, gasping for breath.

Seeing this, the others rushed forward, but Cheng Xiaoyu, who had come from the classroom door, had already closed the door, and the classmates tacitly drew the curtains.

In less than two minutes, Jiang Ran took down the remaining people one by one. The last one tried to sneak up on her from behind, but she stepped on his instep and pressed her elbow against his throat.

She didn't go too far; she just made everyone roll on the ground, wincing in pain, their legs still trembling when they stood up.

Five older boys stood in a row, heads bowed, and said "I'm sorry" in uneven tones.

They were all bruised and swollen, with red eyes.

Jiang Ran put the last pencil back into the pencil case, clicked the lid shut, and without looking up, said indifferently, "Let's go."

The group felt as if they had been granted a pardon and ran away as fast as they could.

They didn't complain, and their parents didn't come to the teacher either, probably because they felt it was too embarrassing for a group of people to be disciplined like this by a little girl.

Jiang Ran sat back down, reopened the workbook, pointed to the problem she hadn't finished explaining earlier with the tip of her pen, and said to Jiang Yi, "Let's continue."

Jiang Yi was stunned for a while before she finally looked away from the disheveled figures at the classroom door. Her fingers were still trembling a little when she looked down at the questions, but it wasn't out of fear. Instead, she finally understood what her brother meant when he said, "It's good for you to spend more time with Jiang Ran."

Jiang Ran didn't plan to tell her sister about the fight today, not because she was afraid of being scolded, but because she knew how her sister would respond.

Sigrún has taught at the Iceland University of the Arts as a part-time lecturer since and was Dean of the Department of Fine Art from -. In – she held a research position at Reykjavík Art Museum focusing on the role of women in Icelandic art. She studied fine art at the Icelandic College of Arts and Crafts and at Pratt Institute, New York, and holds BA and MA degrees in art history and philosophy from the University of Iceland. Sigrún lives and works in Iceland.

Then, in the last semester of sixth grade, the sycamore trees were just sprouting new buds.

Jiang Ran has grown to Su Qing's shoulder height, and Cheng Xiaoyu has lost a lot of weight. Standing next to her, he no longer looks like a potato that has been forced in.

Jiang Yi's long hair has reached her shoulders. When she's quiet, she's a little lady, but when she opens her mouth, she's still the same Jiang Yi who would fight Cheng Xiaoyu for the last piece of cookie. The contrast is striking.

The sight of the three walking home from school was privately described by the younger students as the "Three School Bullies." Jiang Yi, upon hearing this, said "childish" without any expression, while Cheng Xiaoyu proudly puffed out his chest.

After school, Jiang Ran held Su Qing's hand as they walked home. Suddenly, she asked, "Sister, when I go to junior high, will I still be able to come home every day to eat your cooking?"

Su Qing glanced down at her and gently flicked her forehead: "Nonsense, where do you think you're going if you don't go home?"

Jiang Ran gripped Su Qing's fingers even tighter, a slight smile playing on her lips.

This evening was just like every afternoon of every year: the sycamore trees, the snack bags, the warmth of my sister's hands...

She hoped that such days would never change.