Chapter Two Hundred and Eighteen: Hard to Say (III)

There are no ifs in history.

No fairy tale can last forever.

……

She sat on the swing in the middle of the garden, humming a common nursery rhyme.

The cool breeze brushing through the flowers added a rich accompaniment.

She stopped humming when she saw her little prince approaching her with a bouquet of white flowers.

See, this was her own little prince.

He was exceptional. She assumed he’d brought back another medal from school.

Where was the medal? Did he want her to guess?

It had to be in his bulging pocket.

“Come, let Mother see it.” She extended a hand happily.

The little prince hesitated to approach. He glanced at the housekeeper standing by as if to signal for help.

She couldn’t understand the meaning of that glance, so she repeated herself as gently as she could. “Come, let Mother see it.”

No one answered the little prince’s plea, so he could only take the object out from his pocket.

It was a white cockatiel.

She was a little surprised.

Because of her severe allergies, she very rarely came into contact with animals. Her gardener made sure that no nests or burrows appeared in the garden year round.

The cockatiel rested obediently in the little prince’s palm. Its beady eyes stared at her as if to express goodwill.

Her curiosity got the better of her so she beckoned for her little prince to come closer.

The little prince hesitated, but ultimately chose to hand the cockatiel to his mother.

He was too young; both his sense of danger and ability to pinpoint its source were underdeveloped. His knowledge from books didn’t quite translate well to this real-world situation. They didn’t tell him how to distinguish people who had already lost their humanity.

This would be the last time he believed in those children’s fairy tales.

From that day onwards, he would never again don his princely robes and jewelry chains. He would be set firmly in reality, never to return to the fairy tale.

She took the cockatiel and for the first time felt the magical sensations of live, warm feathers against her hand.

A warm smile as gentle as a spring breeze appeared.

The little prince began to tell his story of how he’d found the cockatiel.

How he’d almost been discovered hiding the cockatiel in his art class.

How he’d spent the entire lunch break finding an empty place and feeding the cockatiel. Time had flown by so fast!

How the cockatiel had presented him with a large caterpillar as thanks.

The little prince’s story-telling was very lifelike, and she listened keenly with great pleasure.

Although her little prince had broken many school rules, she didn’t immediately raise the issue. She understood that this wasn’t a good time to do that. After this was all over, she planned to go over which rules he had to abide by and which boundaries he shouldn’t cross.

However, she currently was a doting mother hanging onto her child’s every word. Every accomplishment by her little prince gave her further vicarious pleasure.

Suddenly, a strange noise broke through the picturesque scene.

It was a servant screaming, “Madam!” with a hand over her mouth.

She saw the servant quickly being escorted away by others. She saw her housekeeper wanted to say something but didn’t dare approach.

She suddenly felt something was off.

She slowly began to feel a stinging and itching sensation. Her gaze fell on the bird in her hand.

Red hives began spreading quickly across her now-pale arm like ants. Her veins swelled and became clearly visible on the surface of the skin, and her wrist bloated up like a balloon.

Don’t worry, they’re just allergies. It’ll get better quickly.

That was what she wanted to tell the little prince, but for some reason, her sluggish brain couldn’t send the words to her mouth.

A spike of pain brought a moment of clarity. She heard her little prince stammering something she couldn’t understand.

“Mom, don’t!”

Don’t do what?

She didn’t know.

The cockatiel let out a squawk of protest from the tightening grip. The cockatiel’s gentle beak arched back for leverage, then struck forward at her hand.

Owwww!

Her howling and the cockatiel’s screeching mixed together sounding like the cacophony of a food market.

The sounds of flowing spring water retreated, as did the spring breeze, the white flowers, and—

—This dream.

She saw herself reflected in the bird’s beady eyes.

There was no swing, no garden, no spring water. They’d all been blown away by the spring breeze.

There were only the unpleasantly white walls of the hospital.

The smell of disinfectant pervaded every corner. Fluid dripped steadily from the IV bag. Medical personnel and family servants argued endlessly. She didn’t know what they were saying.

She lay on the wheelchair without any makeup. She looked like an old woman from her gloomy pale skin to her spiritless eyes.

No, this couldn’t be her.

She shook her head.

How could she look like this?

Where was her empress robe?

How could she be so disabled to be confined to a wheelchair?

Where had her throne gone?

Her distinguished family, her loving husband, her outstanding little prince, why had they all abandoned her to this ice-cold place?

Where did her little prince go?

She indifferently shook off the confused boy hugging her.

That wasn’t her little prince.

That was a freak.

Blood dripped down her slim fingers from the pecking. The extreme pain gradually turned to anger.

Suddenly, she felt that the world was clear to her.

Freak.

Freak.

Freak.

Her sharp laughter was like the scream of a deranged ghoul.

Her torn fingernails slashed across the little prince’s face.

The cockatiel’s plumage was dyed red with fresh blood, reminding her of a twisted infant.

It was the same twisted infant who had peacefully slept in her belly, separated from her by just a few layers of skin and fat. She had sung a lullaby full of love for the infant.

Why?

Why had she been treated this way?

What had she done wrong? Why were the heavens punishing her with a freak for a child?

Freak! She had given birth to a freak, so she too was a freak. Only freaks could give birth to freaks.

Die, freaks, die! They should all die!

Her frenzied eyes found the small animal in her hand. She lifted her hand and screamed.

Freaks! They were all freaks! Die!

However much love she’d felt for the child she’d worked so hard to conceive, she now felt that same amount of hatred towards the monstrous freak.

And towards that lie of a marriage.

She lifted the ball of feathers up high.

The little prince’s heart also leapt up into the air.

The little prince seemed to have abandoned all hope. His sorrow was at its peak, but he didn’t shed a tear.

He opened his eyes wide to remember the cockatiel before the final moment came.

A splatter of blood hit his face. Its droplets rolled down his cheeks.

His despair was reflected in his eyes. He never had the ability to forget this memory.

He heard a lamentation like birdsong at dawn.

Melancholy.

……

“In the end, the entire Gene Project was declared a failure. The He Family knows the reason, but I can’t get involved there. There’s a problematic set of twins guarding this knowledge. The Nan Family was indeed responsible for Du Yirou’s surgery. Unfortunately, in spite of all their hard work to take down the Du Family, they raised an even more fearsome enemy.”

Liu Ye had finally arrived at the end of the Gene Project after over an hour of talking. When he finally paused, he realized how parched his throat was. However, he continued, “That explains the issue of the blood type mismatch. When Du Yirou learned of the Gene Project, she experienced all kinds of hallucinations and finally succumbed to mental illness. To protect their own reputation, the Yan Family declared she had passed away from illness, and—”

“—If it was for the Yan Family’s reputation, they would have actually killed her. Leaving her alive only poses dangers for them,” Nan Qi interrupted with his head low and his fingers clasped tightly together.

“… That’s because of Yan Jin.” Liu Ye took a deep breath, and then continued as if he hadn’t been interrupted. “I’ve already found Du Yirou’s patient admission record. You’re the doctor, so you should understand better than me what the record means. Make sure this information stays here; there’ll be a lot of trouble if this is leaked. Anything related to yourself you can manage, but it’s still probably safer that you delete it after you’re done reading it.”

Liu Ye began heading out of the room. At the door, he added softly, “Leave the laptop there after you’re done with it. I’m going to sleep; I still need to see Yan Jin in the morning.”

Nan Qi’s faint assent went unheard.

Only Nan Qi now remained in the enormous room.

He skimmed over the screen a few times, then slammed the laptop shut.

There was a muted thud as the display snapped shut onto the keyboard.

Liu Ye would have been outraged if he were still there.

Fortunately, he’d left the emotionally charged room muddled in his disorganized thoughts, dying for sleep. Nan Qi was left to his own devices to brood and vent.

The Gene Project was the Nan Family’s last chip to play.

Nan Xu had been certain Yan Jin wouldn’t tell him about this. He’d predicted that Yan Jin would rather admit to desiring the Du Family’s wealth.

Clearly, they themselves were the ones that wanted the Du Family’s wealth.

That was why they had ruined the Du Family’s youngest daughter without a qualm. They didn’t care that she was their young master’s Aunty.

In their eyes, life was fleeting while riches were forever.

Nan Qi finally understood how he and Yan Jin had become friends so quickly in spite of both of their prideful arrogance in youth.

It was neither coincidence nor fate. It had all been planned.

The Yan Family had struck a “deal” with Yan Jin. They agreed to spare Du Yirou’s life.

In exchange, the son they had abandoned would help them establish good relations with the Nan Family’s outstanding successor.

Could this even be considered a trade?

Sometimes childhood friendships were even more reliable than business marriages.

The young prince had no other cards he could bargain with. He could only comply with his family’s arrangements.

The only thing the young prince had been able to get in return was that run-down asylum.

That year… Yan Jin had only been eight years old.

Clutching his head, Nan Qi closed his eyes and let out a low howl.

It was the howl of a beast at the end of its rope.

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