Chapter 60.1

Our Discord Server: https://discord.gg/PazjBDkTmW

A faint breeze slipped through the window’s cracks, rustling the curtains.

The tiny, flickering embers suddenly flared up, red tongues of fire stretching and twisting like a beast breaking free from its chains. The flames licked upward, hungrily climbing the walls and spreading rapidly to the ceiling.

Sparks rained down onto the plush wool carpet, igniting its highly flammable fibers. The sudden burst of fire leaped toward a pile of tangled electrical cords.

Crackle! Pop! Sparks exploded. In mere moments, the flames raged out of control, swallowing the room in thick, suffocating smoke.

Acrid fumes flooded their lungs, making Chi Qilan cough violently. “Yin Yin, what do we do?” she gasped.

Chi Yin forced herself to stay calm, even as the fire raged before her eyes. Her gaze darted around the room—then locked onto the bathroom. “There! We have to go there!”

“Move!” Chi Qilan struggled to shift their bound bodies toward the bathroom, coordinating with Chi Yin.

Suddenly, dizziness crashed over Chi Yin like a wave. Her vision spun, and her steps faltered.

Behind her, Chi Qilan felt the weight shift and called out anxiously, “Yin Yin, what’s wrong?!”

During the fight with Elvis earlier, Chi Yin had taken a hard hit to her back and the back of her head. The impact had been brutal, and she still hadn’t recovered. She shook her head, trying to clear the dizziness, but instead, the sensation only worsened, pulling her deeper into a haze.

“Yin Yin?” Chi Qilan called out anxiously.

Chi Yin closed her eyes for a brief moment, forcing herself to steady her breathing before replying, “I’m fine.” But her voice betrayed her—weak, unconvincing.

“Don’t worry,” Chi Qilan said firmly. “As long as I’m here, I won’t let anything happen to you.”

Then, without hesitation, she shifted her weight, half-carrying, half-dragging Chi Yin toward the bathroom.

Feeling the frail but determined strength of Chi Qilan’s back against her own, something deep inside Chi Yin stirred. A warmth spread through her chest, her eyes prickling with heat.

This… This is the first time I’ve truly felt my mother’s love. A mother’s instinct to protect.

Inside the bathroom, Chi Qilan panted for breath. “Yin Yin, let’s cut these damn ropes off first.”

Chi Yin scanned the room, her gaze locking onto the full-length mirror. “Help me with this,” she murmured.

Chi Qilan followed her line of sight and immediately understood. Without hesitation, she clenched her teeth and hurled herself forward, slamming her shoulder into the mirror. Once, twice. On the third hit, the glass shattered, shards raining down onto the floor.

Blood trickled down Chi Qilan’s forehead, dripping onto the white floor, blooming like a crimson flower against the stark tiles.

Chi Yin’s gaze trembled. The warmth in her chest, which had just subsided, surged back with full force.

Chi Qilan ignored the blood trailing down her face. She bent down, fingers fumbling to pick up a sharp shard of glass. Clutching it tightly in her palm, she twisted awkwardly, sawing away at the ropes binding them.

Elvis had tied the knots with ruthless precision, the restraints biting deep into their skin. The only way to break free was to hold onto the jagged glass even tighter, forcing the shards deeper into her palm. 

The glass cut into her flesh. Bright red streaks smeared across her hands, forming raw, vicious wounds. Chi Yin watched as blood dripped onto the floor. A single tear slipped from the corner of her eye.

Time passed in painful silence. At last, the ropes gave way, snapping apart. 

The moment Chi Qilan turned to look at her, Chi Yin quickly averted her gaze. “Thanks,” she murmured.

Chi Qilan froze for a second, then lowered her head, as if wanting to say something. But before she could, a damp towel landed in her lap.

Chi Yin coughed lightly. “Cover your nose and mouth. Turn on all the water.”

There was no time for hesitation. Chi Qilan immediately followed orders, soaking herself in the water as Chi Yin did the same, tying a wet towel over her head before cracking open the door to check the fire.

The moment Chi Yin opened the door, she was met with a wall of blazing red. In the next second, a scorching wave of heat and thick, choking smoke rushed at her, forcing her to stumble back into the bathroom.

“Yin Yin, what’s happening?” Chi Qilan coughed violently, the acrid smoke burning her throat.

Chi Yin turned back, her voice trembling. “We can’t get out.”

The faint hope in Chi Qilan’s eyes faded. She slid down against the wall, finally collapsing onto the floor. Outside, the raging fire devoured the house, turning the very air into a furnace. The water from the taps evaporated too quickly, the steam only making the suffocating heat worse.

The small bathroom had become a pressure cooker. Chi Yin’s head grew heavier, her mind clouding over. Her body felt weightless, like she was floating.

“Yin Yin, don’t sleep!” Chi Qilan’s panicked voice rang in her ears. “Hold on! Please!”

But Chi Yin’s eyelids felt impossibly heavy. Her body drifted, carried by the haze of her fading consciousness. 

And then—like a current pulling her back—memories surged forward, sweeping her into the past.

It was a quiet evening from her childhood. Her grandmother and the housekeeper had gone out to buy groceries, leaving Chi Yin home alone, as always. The housekeeper had hesitated before leaving. “Xiao Yin, do you want to come with us? You shouldn’t stay cooped up all by yourself.”

Her grandmother shot the woman a sharp look. “Do you think she’s listening to you? She’s like a mute.”

Her lips curled in disdain. “Such an unlikable child. I don’t know when Lan Lan will finally come and take her away.”

“Eating my food, drinking my water, and not even a single smile in return,” her grandmother grumbled as she stepped out the door.

Chi Yin remained expressionless. There wasn’t even a ripple of emotion in her heart—only a numbness far beyond her years. She walked over to the window, watching as their figures disappeared past the gates of the residential complex. Only then did she return to the table, spread open her workbook, and pick up her pen.

Not long after, a faint burnt smell filled the air. She paused, set down her pen, and stood up to search for the source of the odor. As she entered the kitchen, the sight before her was clear—the electric kettle had burned dry, its surface blackened and charred.

Flames flickered, small at first, but slowly creeping outward.

Chi Yin stood there for a long time, silently watching the fire grow, its tongues of flame licking at the air, its breath turning to thick smoke.

She didn’t move. Not until the fire began to bare its teeth, twisting and snarling like a beast set free. Only then did she turn around, return to her desk, and pick up her pen again.

The book said fire has the power to destroy life. Anything standing before it would turn to ruins, reduced to dust and carried away by the wind.

Chi Yin thought to herself: What if I disappeared, just like that? No one likes me anyway. No one would care.

Her grandmother’s words had etched themselves deep into her mind.

Suddenly, a loud pounding came from the door. 

“Is anyone inside?”

Among the voices, one stood out—clear and determined. “There is! Little Mute is still in her room—I saw her go in with my own eyes!”

The voice sounded familiar—just like that clingy little girl from next door.

Chi Yin finally lifted her head, blinking at the tightly shut door. There was a chaotic mix of noises—pounding, footsteps, shouting—until, at last, the door burst open. 

A small figure darted inside, pushing past everyone without hesitation, stretching out her hand toward Chi Yin. 

“Yin Yin.”

Chi Qilan’s voice dragged Chi Yin back to the present.

“I hear sirens,” Chi Qilan said breathlessly. “Is someone coming to save us?”

Chi Yin’s mind wavered between past and present. She struggled to part her dry lips, forcing out a single sentence through her parched throat. “I don’t want to die right now. Not even a little.”