Luo Ren’s hesitation lasted a full day and night.

In the end, he hadn’t figured it out, but since empty thinking wouldn’t bring any changes or progress, he might as well do something.

He finally pushed open the door.

He saw Mu Dai’s back and the game screen exploding with fire, blood, and flesh.

Luo Ren took two steps closer. Mu Dai’s spine stiffened briefly, then she removed her headphones.

See, even with her eyes distracted by chaos and her ears disturbed by noise, as someone trained in martial arts, she still sensed his presence.

Their eyes met like strangers looking at each other.

Luo Ren knew his expression must be stiff and his gaze distant. He wanted to appear better, but couldn’t pretend—he could fake it with others, but not with her.

“Feeling better?”

“You know everything?”

They asked simultaneously. Finally, Luo Ren nodded: “I know.”

Awkward silence.

Luo Ren said, “Let me play a game with you. Is there a two-player mode?”

He looked down, searching for the control buttons on the machine. Mu Dai said, “It’s difficult. Would two people last longer than one?”

Luo Ren said, “Yes.”

Reset, starting again. Luo Ren didn’t look at Mu Dai, focusing only on the game. Her game character was a slender blonde woman in tight straps and stylish attire, fighting alongside him, rolling, leaping, shooting, and dodging.

Initially, they ran through city streets, then advanced to the next level—dark jungles, cold tombs. The monsters multiplied, becoming abnormally powerful. Finally, the players began taking damage—scratches, bites, their health bars gradually emptying.

The blonde girl was seized by a tentacled zombie monster. Luo Ren turned his gun and began attacking the monster.

Zombies rushed at him, biting, scratching. He seemed not to notice, his gun aimed in only one direction, firing continuously.

Mu Dai removed her headphones and looked at him strangely, unable to stop herself: “Hey!”

He remained silent. His health bar depleted, he fell. On the other side, the girl was inevitably dragged into the darkness by the monster, leaving only faint, shrill screams.

Game over. The arcade owner earned more money.

Luo Ren removed his headphones and asked her, “Did you ever reach this level before?”

“No.”

“So with an extra helper, you do last longer.”

“But we both died.”

Luo Ren put the headphones back on the gun station: “Everyone dies eventually.”

He asked, “Has Dr. He communicated everything to you?”

“Yes.”

“Nothing hidden from you?”

“He showed me the video.” She smiled slightly.

Since they’d met, this was the first time he’d seen her smile. It wasn’t like Little Pocket’s smile—this one had no content, just a coordinated movement of facial muscles.

She asked, “Which one do you like?”

This question was truly difficult to answer. For a moment, Luo Ren wanted to say: Can you change back to Little Pocket?

But he restrained himself.

He said, “We’re all adults, so let’s be honest, shall we? Whether I like one or the other, does it still matter to you?”

She said, “Not really anymore.”

Luo Ren was silent for a moment: “I thought as much.”

Huo Zihong stood on the second-floor balcony of the club, watching Luo Ren drive away. When he said goodbye to her, his expression was calm: “I’m going back to Lijiang first. If you need any help, or if anything happens with Mu Dai, call me.”

Huo Zihong vaguely guessed the meeting hadn’t gone well: “Luo Ren, try to see it from a broader perspective.”

Luo Ren smiled: “Do you think I can’t handle this? If I couldn’t handle difficulties, I wouldn’t have survived until now.”

Huo Zihong returned to the room. No matter how much she sympathized, Luo Ren was still an outsider, while Mu Dai was family.

Mu Dai lay on the floor, legs spread in a side split, hands folded under her chin, her gaze gentle and calm.

Huo Zihong sat beside her, stroking the top of her head, remembering when she first adopted her—how a child’s skull seemed soft and fragile. Now, her hair was thick, her skull solid. You might say she was ill, but she still had her strength.

Mu Dai said, “Auntie Hong, Luo Ren said he knows everything. Standing in front of him, I felt like my skin had been peeled off.”

Huo Zihong sadly shed tears that fell to the floor in full drops.

“Mu Dai, I don’t know how to guide you. In many things, I’ve done poorly myself. Dr. He also told me that although I adopted you, I didn’t provide proper psychological guidance and care. Your condition is largely my responsibility…”

Mu Dai sighed, lowering her head, her eyes seeming to look deep into the floor.

She said, “Luo Ren likes to say, ‘We’re all adults, let’s be honest.'”

“Auntie Hong, honestly, I don’t think you have any responsibility. You adopted me, took care of me, and saved me from freezing, starving, or dying violently. You allowed me to study, learn to read, and understand principles. I’ve read reports about people who abuse adopted children, about beasts who specifically target young children under the pretext of adoption. You’ve protected me from many disasters. If I had grown up with my birth mother, I might have been wandering the streets very early. You’ve already given me a life—you don’t need to feel responsible for my mental state. You don’t owe me anything.”

Huo Zihong was stunned. These words didn’t sound like Mu Dai at all.

She felt a bit lost, as if facing a child who had suddenly grown up, feeling it wasn’t real.

Mu Dai continued, “A while ago, I met Wen Wen’s mother in Lijiang.”

Zhang Shu had mentioned this to Huo Zihong, but not in detail. Huo Zihong didn’t know the specifics: “Is she… still angry?”

“She said, ‘Wen Wen died so miserably, how are you still living so well? How have you not faced retribution yet?”

Huo Zihong’s lips trembled, but Mu Dai was calmer than her, saying, “I probably will face retribution.”

After a pause, she added softly: “Sooner or later.”

She stood up, rubbing her neck, and moved to the wall. With her hands on the ground, she did a handstand, her long hair piling on the floor like scattered clouds.

In her eyes, Huo Zihong appeared upside-down.

Huo Zihong said, “Luo Ren has left.”

“Mm.”

“Didn’t go well?”

She thought for a moment, then said: “Can’t say good or bad. Luo Ren never liked me to begin with. He liked Little Pocket—I could see that.”

“Are you sad? Let’s be honest, like adults.”

“Not sad. I feel I shouldn’t receive too much love anyway. That wouldn’t be fair to Wen Wen.”

“What about you? Do you still like Luo Ren?”

Mu Dai smiled, and this time, her smile was especially beautiful.

She said, “I’ve always liked him.”

After saying this, she flipped over and sat upright.

“Auntie Hong, do you think I’m sick?”

How to answer? Saying yes might upset her, but saying no would contradict the evidence of the videotape and her abnormal behavior…

Huo Zihong felt somewhat flustered.

Mu Dai said, “I don’t think I am, but if you all say I am, then let’s say I am.”

She seemed indifferent.

Huo Zihong didn’t know how to continue, and after a pause, said: “Rest well today. Dr. He mentioned there are several new medications on the market. In the coming days, we can try them.”

Mu Dai said, “Sure.”

After leaving the club, Luo Ren’s car hadn’t stopped, continuing without rest.

The scenery changed outside the windows—countless cars carrying countless people to unknown destinations. Daylight gradually faded, night beginning to spread around, then his phone vibrated with an incoming message.

He picked it up casually to look. It was from the WeChat group, “Phoenix Action Team.”

He tapped it.

It was a system message.

Mu Dai had left the group.

Luo Ren remained silent, placing the phone back and continuing to drive. As he drove, he suddenly felt inexplicably irritated. He pulled over, pushed open the door, slammed it shut, walked a few steps forward, and sat on a roadside railing, breathing heavily.

Looking up, he saw sparse stars in the sky.

His phone kept making noise, probably Cao Fatty and the others chatting, asking questions, speculating.

Luo Ren didn’t want to look.

He heard the sound of brakes. Looking up, he saw an SUV stopping nearby. A burly driver stuck his head out the window and asked, “Brother, car trouble?”

Luo Ren made a gesture indicating thanks, but explaining he was just drowsy and stopping to clear his head.

The driver understood, rolled up his window, started the car, and drove off in a cloud of dust.

After that, no one else stopped. All passing cars created a whooshing wind. Luo Ren kept counting—three hundred cars, three hundred strangers passing by.

Wasn’t he already surrounded by enough strangers?

Luo Ren suddenly became furious.

Why should this happen?

He rose angrily, turned the car around, and headed back toward Kunming.

When he arrived, dawn was breaking. Unexpectedly, he encountered Huo Zihong and Zhang Shu at the entrance. Both were carrying luggage, seemingly about to leave. Seeing Luo Ren’s car, they were slightly startled.

Luo Ren braked sharply, got out, and asked, “Where’s Mu Dai?”

Huo Zihong said, “She ran away.”

For a moment, Luo Ren couldn’t grasp the meaning of “ran away.”

Huo Zihong turned back and pointed to the window upstairs in the club.

“You should know, Mu Dai is skilled at climbing walls. The door was never opened. Probably at night, when everyone was asleep, she opened the window herself and ran away.”

“She didn’t take her phone or bank card, probably just the cash she had on her. She left a note.”

“What did it say?”

What did it say? Huo Zihong smiled bitterly.

She wrote: Don’t look for me. You won’t find me anyway.

She had planned it all along. When they told her they would try a new medication in the next few days, and she so obediently said “Sure,” she had already planned her escape.

Luo Ren clenched his fist, turned, and strode to his car. Just as he was about to pull the door open, Zhang Shu said, “Forget it.”

“She’s been gone half the night. Do you know which direction she went? Searching would be futile.”

The sun rose high, golden sunlight pouring over the earth. Traffic gradually became noisy, with people hurrying back and forth on the roads.

Mu Dai strolled past a fruit stand, then strolled back and asked, “How much are the strawberries per jin?”

“Twelve yuan.”

She took out her wallet and began counting money. She had only two large bills; the rest was small change and coins that jingled.

She gathered a handful of small bills and coins: “Two jin.”