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

The paternity test report was delivered to Wu Yue at 6 p.m.

He stood in the small courtyard behind the hospital for a long time before opening the brown paper bag. Several faded sheets were drying in the courtyard, billowing in the wind and then falling back down.

His fingers trembled when he pulled out the documents, the edges of the paper slipping from his fingertips like a dull knife.

He closed his eyes briefly, then opened them and looked down at the line of print in the conclusion column: "Based on the DNA analysis results, the cumulative paternity index of Sample 1 and Sample 2 is 4.97×10⁸, and the probability of parent-child relationship is 99.99%."

The wind made the bedsheets flutter, and he stood in that undulating expanse of white, his hands gripping the report so tightly that the edges of the paper wrinkled.

He recalled that late autumn night when he gently placed a baby wrapped in pink swaddling clothes on the steps of the orphanage. She was crying loudly, and he was afraid of being discovered, yet also afraid that no one would notice.

Later, he hid in the shadows at the alley entrance and waited for a long time until a staff member pushed open the door and took the small pink bundle inside. Only then did he turn and leave.

He slipped a note with a name written on it into the baby's swaddling clothes.

He overheard the name from outside his wife's room. She was leaning against the window, one hand stroking her pregnant belly, the other holding a dictionary, and telling her husband that if it was a girl, she would name her Jiang Ran.

He wrote down those two words outside the door, and later, as he carried the child out, he wrote the name on a piece of paper.

He never imagined that this name would follow this child for fifteen years.

Wu Yue folded the report, put it back in the paper bag, and walked back to the inpatient department.

When I pushed open the ward door, Yin Wan was leaning against the headboard. A few rays of orange sunset shone through the gaps in the blinds, falling on her thin shoulders and withered hands.

She heard footsteps, turned her head, and saw the brown paper bag in his hand, as well as the complex, almost shattered expression on his face.

She didn't ask anything, she just waited quietly.

Wu Yue sat down on the chair next to her bed and laid the report out in front of her.

Yin Wan looked down at the conclusion and lightly traced the numbers on the paper with her finger.

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Then she raised her eyes, and in those eyes that had been worn gray by illness and the years, a glimmer of light suddenly appeared that Wu Yue hadn't seen in her eyes for a long time.

She returned the report to Wu Yue and remained silent for a while before speaking: "That child's older sister, she's very good to her, isn't she?"

Wu Yue didn't think much of it and nodded.

He said that Su Qing treated Jiang Ran very well, raising her alone for so many years and teaching her well and making her sensible. The two sisters had a deep bond, just like biological sisters.

After hearing this, Yin Wan's eyes brightened even more, and the corners of her mouth curved into a slight smile.

The curve of that smile was almost identical to the one Su Qing wore when she left last night.

She knew that as the perpetrator, saying these words seemed extremely hypocritical, but she couldn't help feeling fortunate for the child that, in her unhappy childhood, there was someone who truly loved and protected her.

She withdrew her gaze and turned to Wu Yue, who was standing beside her with his head bowed.

He sat in that old chair, his shoulders slightly hunched, the lingering handprint on his face still clearly visible under the fluorescent light, his gray hair slightly disheveled from his own rough handling.

She reached out and gently placed her hand on the back of his hand, which was resting on his knee. Her voice was soft but steady: "A-Yue, go to the Jiang family and tell them everything. The child is still alive, and she should go back to her real home."

Wu Yue's hand moved slightly in her palm, his fingertips curling up a little, but in the end he didn't turn over to hold her, he just let his hand hang down again.

His voice was very soft, as if he were speaking to the thin blankets on the hospital bed: "If I tell, Ah Wan... what will you do...?"

He didn't look up, but he knew she was watching him.

Her gaze fell on his graying hair and the deep lines etched at the corners of his eyes by guilt and exhaustion over the years. The warmth of her gaze was the same as when she had comforted him countless times before, but this time there was an added layer of determination he had never seen before.

"Ah Yue, do you know why I've held on for so long? It's not because of this incurable disease, it's because of you."

"Because you said you wanted me to live, that you wouldn't live alone if I died. I know you weren't just kidding me, so I gritted my teeth and endured all these years, no matter how much it hurt."

"But I never imagined that the price I paid for living would be turning you into a person without any moral compass. Every day I live is bought with the more than ten years that child was separated from her biological parents..."

She paused, a tear glistening in the corner of her eye under the fluorescent light, but her voice remained incredibly steady. "Ah Yue, do you really think this is what I've been striving for and persevering to see?"

The ward was quiet, with only the beeping of the monitor.

Wu Yue remained silent.

He felt his heart being tightly gripped by a hand. That hand wasn't Cui Jiayi's, nor was it fate's; it was Yin Wan's. She was using her last strength to push him in the direction he was meant to go.

But why did he come to this point? It was so that she could live, so that every day when he opened the hospital room door, he could still see her breathing, and hear her calling his name in that soft, gentle voice.

He could endure Cui Jiayi's humiliation, he could endure the condemnation of his conscience, he could live with guilt for the rest of his life, but he could not bear to push open this door and find the bed empty.

He gently pushed away the hand that Yin Wan had placed on his.

The movements were very gentle, as if moving a fragile item.

He stood up, took a step back, picked up the paternity test report from the bed, put it in a brown paper bag, and then turned around.

Yin Wan's hand was still suspended in mid-air, maintaining the posture she had been in when he pushed her away.

As she watched his retreating figure, the glimmer of light that had finally ignited in her eyes completely dimmed the moment he took a step back.

"A-Yue..."

Her voice trembled slightly, but she did not cry.

With his back to her, Wu Yue gently patted her hand, which was still hanging in mid-air, and said in a gentle tone that had never changed in decades, "It's my fault for letting you know these things. You're already suffering a lot from the treatment, so don't worry about these things anymore."

"But you know perfectly well that I don't have much time left..."

Yin Wan's voice finally cracked.

Wu Yue did not turn back.

He walked to the window, closed the blinds by her bedside a little to prevent the glaring orange rays of the setting sun from shining on her, and moved the water glass at the foot of her bed half an inch closer to her.

After doing all this, he stood by the bed, looking down at her face as if he were looking at the most precious thing in the world, and the thing that made him most powerless.

"Let's wait until this period is over before discussing it further."

His voice was very soft, as if he were coaxing her to sleep, as if he were talking about something that would happen sooner or later but was best left unsaid.

Yin Wan did not speak again.

She watched him pick up the brown paper bag again, turn around, and walk towards the door.

His hand was already on the doorknob; if he turned it, the door would close behind him, leaving her alone in the room, which was divided into light and shadow by the blinds.

"Ah Yue".

Her voice suddenly rang out, cold and unlike her own, unlike that of his wife who had been gentle for decades.

Wu Yue stood rooted to the spot, gripping the doorknob, without turning around.

"Do you swear that you'll confess after this period of time is over?"

Wu Yue stood at the door, the pale light from the corridor seeping in through the crack, making his gray hair almost transparent.

His hand gripped the doorknob, clenching and unclenching repeatedly, his knuckles grinding against the metal with a soft sound.

He gave a soft "hmm" and then turned the lock on the door.

The door slowly closed behind him.

A draft blew through the corridor, causing the door to sway slightly.

He slid down against the door and curled up on the cold floor tiles of the corridor, his hands gripping the brown paper bag tightly, his shoulders trembling violently, but he didn't make a sound.

On the hospital bed just a door away, Yin Wan remained in the same position as before, her hand suspended in mid-air.

She didn't cry, nor did she call out to him; she just stared at the pale fluorescent light on the ceiling.

That closed door not only closed the entrance to a room, but also represented a wife's utter despair for her husband.

As night deepened.

Su Qing arrived at the hospital again at the time she had arranged with Yin Wan the day before.

What she didn't know was that not far behind her, at the street corner, a figure in a black hoodie was standing in the shadows where the streetlights couldn't reach, quietly watching her disappear behind the glass doors of the hospital building.

She held her phone in her hand, the screen displaying a location interface. The little red dot representing her sister's location had been hovering in this building for quite some time.

She looked up at the brightly lit hospital building in front of her, the night wind blowing in from the end of the street, making her clothes flutter.

Her phone was linked to her sister's phone, a setting she secretly made; her sister probably never checked the settings.

She just wanted to be able to find her sister anytime...

Before yesterday, my sister had never gone out alone late at night. In the past, no matter what happened, she would tell her, even if it was just going downstairs to throw out the trash, she would leave a note on the bedside.

But now, her sister went out alone in the early hours of the morning without waking her up or leaving a single word.

Her fingers slowly tightened around the edge of the phone, the screen's light reflecting in her eyes, casting a dim glow on her usually calm eyes.

A sense of unease slowly rose from the bottom of her heart, mixed with the coolness of the night wind, and seeped into her collar.