The doctor frowned, probably thinking the word was unprofessional, but he nodded anyway. "That's one way to put it."
I stood in the hospital doorway, looking in.
Shen Nian sat on the bed, wearing an oversized hospital gown, the neckline loose, showing a sliver of pale collarbone.
She hugged a pillow to her chest, head down, rubbing the corner of the pillow over and over with her fingers.
Her movements were slow, mechanical.
Like someone stuck in slow motion.
Hearing the noise, she lifted her head slowly.
Those eyes—
In my last life, there was nothing I hated more than those eyes.
They always held that condescending, scrutinizing light, like she could see right through you.
But now they were empty.
Like two glass beads with their cores scooped out, nothing left but a clear, fragile shell.
She stared at me for a good few seconds, like she was trying to figure out who I was.
Then the corner of her mouth lifted slowly, into a faint, innocent smile.
"Sister."
I stood in the doorway, and said nothing.
In that moment, I realized something.
Getting revenge on the clever, proud, arrogant Shen Nian would be satisfying, of course.
But a broken, slow, helpless Shen Nian who needed to be taken care of…
That was what it really meant to lose everything.
Because she wouldn't even know what she'd lost.
I decided to take care of her myself.
Everyone said Shen Zhao was kind, so good to a fake sister she wasn't even blood-related to.
The Shen family elders teared up, squeezing my hand and saying "We can rest easy knowing Niannian is with you."
I smiled and nodded, my voice soft. "She's my sister. It's the least I can do."
No one knew that every time I said the word "sister", my tongue tasted bitter.
In my last life, Shen Nian never once treated me like an older sister.
The first week after I brought her home, I did nothing but watch.
I watched how she walked—half a beat slower than before, sometimes bumping into doorframes, then clutching her forehead and squatting down, not moving for ages. I never knew if she was crying or just zoning out.
I watched how she ate—before, she'd eaten with perfect poise, holding her chopsticks correctly, her mouth closed tight as she chewed. Now she got rice grains on the corner of her mouth, then licked them off slowly with her tongue, like a little kid.
I watched how she spoke—her sentences got shorter, her tone flat. She often stopped halfway through a sentence, tilting her head and thinking for a long time, then saying "I forgot what I was going to say."
Every detail told me the same thing: she really had gone stupid.
But I couldn't bring myself to believe it.
Shen Nian had tricked me too many times in my last life. She was too good an actress.
Every time I found out I'd been fooled, my first reaction wasn't anger. It was a kind of absurd admiration.
How did she do it? Was she born without a conscience, able to make lies sound more real than the truth?
So I tested her.
In a hundred small ways.
I'd casually mention things that only happened in our last life, watching for any reaction.
I'd deliberately drop a glass in front of her, to see if she'd frown like she used to, right away.
I'd move her things around, to see if she'd notice.
She never reacted. Not once.
I started to believe it.
But what really made me let my guard down completely, was that first night.
I brought her to my room, with the excuse that "Niannian has nightmares at night."
Really, I just wanted to see if she'd slip up, when we were alone in a private space, just the two of us.
She sat on the edge of the bed, head down, twisting the hem of her shirt between her fingers.
Obedient, in a way that didn't make sense.
I stared at her, and suddenly remembered the first time she'd come into my room in my last life.
She'd come to gloat.
Leaned against the doorframe, her chin tilted up, that infuriating smile on her face, and said "Sister, don't you find this room too small? Too cramped?"
And now she sat on that same bed, staring at the bedside lamp with those empty eyes, and whispered "The light… it's pretty."
I suddenly wanted to test one more thing.
I pulled out a lollipop. Orange flavored.
"Niannian, do you want this?"
She stared at the candy, and nodded slowly.
"Then—" I heard my own voice, calm, like I wasn't saying something so outrageous, "take your clothes off."
I waited.
Waited for her to slip up.
Waited for a flash of anger, of humiliation, of "are you kidding me?" in her eyes.
Even for a split second. I'd catch it. I'd tear her mask off. I'd—
She started taking her clothes off.
Her fingers curled around the hem of her shirt, slowly, clumsily lifting it up.
Her movements were dull, like she had no idea what she was doing. Or like she knew, but didn't care.
When she pulled the shirt over her head, her hair got messed up, a few strands sticking to her cheek. She didn't brush them away.
She just sat there in front of me, in her underwear, hair messy, and lifted her eyes to look at me.
"I took it off." Her voice held a careful, tentative note, like she'd finished a task and was waiting for me to check it.
My mind went blank for about three seconds.
Then I noticed her body.
Thin. A small purple bruise under her collarbone, probably from the car crash.
The edge of her underwear left a faint red line on her skin. She was so pale, almost translucent, I could see the fine blue veins underneath.
She laid herself bare in front of me, completely unguarded.
No shame, no fear, not even confusion.
Like a kid told to "hand me that toy", doing it naturally, without a second thought.
My heart was beating so hard, I was sure she could hear it.
It wasn't lust… okay, maybe a little. But it wasn't just that.
It was because—
She really was stupid.
Stupid enough to not know what taking her clothes off meant.
Stupid enough to think this was just a fair trade: clothes off for candy.
Stupid enough to… trust me.
Shen Nian had never trusted me in her life.
Not in my last life.
Not until this life, in this twisted way.
I pulled her into my arms.
Her body was cold. She shivered when she pressed against me, and whispered "Cold."
I held her tighter.
Tight enough to feel her heartbeat. Fast, unnaturally fast.
Does a fool's heart beat this fast? Or was—
No. What was I thinking?
She was just a fool. She didn't understand a thing.