"It's okay, Mommy will braid a beautiful plait for Xiang Mei in a bit," she said as she lovingly picked up her daughter. Just one glance at her plump, white and adorable daughter, so smart and obedient, and that darling little face—truly the village's crowning glory, unmatched by anyone. How could her, Hu Li's, daughter be anything less than wonderful?
Hu Li went out to eat with her daughter, of course without calling Qin Xiangyang and his siblings. It was clear that she didn't want to feed Qin Xiangyang and company; they had already sneaked some meat soup, and still hoped for a meal? Dream on.
"Sister is not afraid anymore, everything is alright."
Qin Xiangyang cracked a smile, but it was then he saw Qin Xiangnuan's eyes already open, misty but shining brightly.
He stretched his hand over Qin Xiangnuan's forehead. Good, it was not hot anymore, sister was alright.
He placed his sister back on the brick bed and wrapped her up tightly with a quilt to prevent her from catching cold again.
He stood up, ignoring the cuts and bruises on his body, and opened a small cabinet, rummaging inside until he finally found a large steamed bun.
"Look, Ming Nuan," he performed like it was a magic trick, placing the bun in front of Qin Xiangnuan.
"This was secretly given by Aunt Hua. Brother didn't tell anyone. Go ahead and eat, Nuannuan. Eating will make you feel better and heal faster."
Qin Xiangnuan reached out with her tiny hand and took the bun; it was already cool but still soft.
"Nuannuan is such a good girl," Qin Xiangyang gently rubbed the top of his sister's head and put on his worn cotton-padded jacket before going out to work. He had wood to chop and water to fetch; the day's chores at home were mostly his responsibility, as the older brother brought by his stepmother had to go to school and couldn't help with household tasks.
The door slammed shut, and one could still feel the cold draft blowing in from outside, chilling the dilapidated house.
Qin Xiangnuan brought the bun up to her nose, smelling its scent, and swallowed.
She licked her dry and cracked little lips, then crawled to the edge of the brick bed and opened a drawer inside, where she remembered her brother's found notebook would be. The notebook was clean, and as expected, she found it in the drawer, took it out, tore a page of paper, crawled back into the bed, wrapped the bun with the paper, and then tucked it into the quilt to keep it warm.
Once again, she looked disbelievingly at her small hands, pathetically tiny, yellowed, dry, and withered, like chicken claws.
Little her was only a few years old, seemingly five, while brother was eight. That year, when her stepmother abandoned her, leaving her to fend for herself, it was her brother who rescued her, saving her life. But he couldn't save himself; a sickness half a year later took his life.
She placed her finger on her lips and bit down hard.
Instantly, as if her fingers were linked to her heart, the pain brought tears to her eyes. Could it be that she had been reborn, back to when she was five years old? Was it that Heaven couldn't bear to see her drift through life alone, thus giving her another chance? If that were true, then in this lifetime, she must protect her brother well, ensuring he survives.
She clutched the quilt with her fingers, curling her body tightly; the quilt had a moldy smell—it was many years old, but it was the only blanket they had. Sometimes she truly felt that she and her brother were not the children of the Qin Family, but its servants. Yet even as servants, after giving their labor, should they not receive something in return? At the very least, they deserved food, clothing, and warmth. But she and her brother had always lived from meal to meal, uncertain if there would be another.
From the moment she was deceived onto the operating table, she knew that the Qin Family were all vampires, none of them good people, including their father, who had never regarded them as his children but merely tools to be sacrificed at any time.
She had long since lost any attachment to this home.
She had to take her brother away from here; otherwise, they would surely be bled to death by these members of the Qin Family.
The door opened again, and Qin Xiangyang entered, frozen like an icicle, with cold emanating from his entire body, even his tattered cotton jacket was covered with frost.
"Brother, Nuannuan," Qin Xiangnuan sat up and pointed at the quilt.
"Okay," Qin Xiangyang cracked a smile, stripped off his cotton jacket, and crawled under the quilt. The kang bed was very warm, so it was quite cozy. Qin Xiangnuan could feel the chill from Qin Xiangyang; his hands and face were frostbitten, showing various new and old bruises—marks from being hit by Hu Li, including pinch and scratch marks. Indeed, one doesn't feel the pain when hitting a child that's not their own, but she felt it.
"Brother, does it hurt?" She reached out with her small hand, warm to the touch, and placed it on Qin Xiangyang's cold face.
"Not at all," Qin Xiangyang rubbed the top of his sister's head, smiling to show his teeth as white as glutinous rice. Brother's teeth were very nice, but he was terribly thin, probably because he had never had enough to eat.
Qin Xiangnuan pulled a steamed bun wrapped in paper from under the quilt.
"Brother, eat, it's warmed up."
She placed the bun in front of Qin Xiangyang.
He reached out to take it, feeling the warmth of the soft bun in his hands. It touched him deeply; he forcefully rubbed his nose and then placed the bun back in Qin Xiangnuan's lap.
"Nuannuan, you eat. Brother's not hungry."
"Brother, you eat," Qin Xiangnuan insisted, pushing the bun back into Qin Xiangyang's lap, "Brother needs to work, Nuannuan's not hungry."
Qin Xiangyang pushed it back to Qin Xiangnuan several times, but she refused to eat no matter what.
Eventually, Qin Xiangyang tore the bun in half, giving the larger piece to Qin Xiangnuan, who nevertheless insisted on taking the smaller piece for herself, insisting that her brother eat the larger one.
This was Qin Xiangnuan's first night after being reborn. In fact, she had forgotten many things and only realized how much had actually happened after re-experiencing it. She didn't sleep well all night, pondering how to keep her brother and herself alive, how to leave the Qin Family, and how to avoid being drained of their blood and lives by these vampires.
But she was only five years old now, and her brother was just eight.
She didn't have time to grow up, no time to wait for an opportunity. In the second half of the year, her brother would turn nine, and he would fall ill at that age—a sickness that would be the death of him. She tossed and turned, unable to fall asleep, but Qin Xiangyang beside her had fallen into a deep slumber.