Guan Xia finally realized that although she and ng Lan had grown up in the sa orphanage, ng Lan's life had not been as peaceful as she had assud.
Perhaps it was because the mother who raised ng Lan had a different temperant. Compared to Mother Chen, Mom Geng was far less patient and gentle. She was stricter, more focused on results than the process. As a result, ng Lan and the over twenty siblings who lived under the sa roof—constantly coming and going—grew up in an environnt filled with competition and rivalry.
It was about winning attention, but also about securing resources to make life a little better.
Listening to ng Lan's account, Guan Xia was also drawn into her own mories. During her ti with ng Lan, she had occasionally heard argunts and crying from the doorway she passed through daily. But back then, she had been too preoccupied with her own future to pay much attention—or perhaps she had subconsciously ignored it.
After all, in her eyes, a mother responsible for so many children—sotis as many as ten at once—was bound to face conflicts, even if the house was spacious at over 90 square ters. What she hadn’t expected, however, was that the competition ng Lan had endured growing up had been deliberately stoked by others.
With a solemn expression, Guan Xia listened as ng Lan continued, "Among all the children Mom Geng raised, I rember two or three who would regularly send letters and gifts back—anything from a single pencil to a pair of shoes or a coat. I still recall one girl who was very short-tempered and petite. After she ranked first in her final exams, an older sister sent her 50 yuan. Fifty yuan! That was the first ti I’d ever seen so much money. Along with the money ca a letter. I don’t know what it said—she refused to show or tell us—but I clearly rember that night, while we were weeding the vegetable garden, she said that when she grew up, she would find her birth parents. Then she’d have lots and lots of money, more than just fifty yuan."
Guan Xia paused, turning to ng Lan. "Those letters, gifts, and money—were they sent to you individually, not to Mom Geng?"
ng Lan nodded. "Yes. I don’t rember when it started, but as a child, every year or two, soone would co back to visit Mom Geng and talk to us younger ones. Afterward, so of us would receive letters or gifts. I got one too—just a single letter. I even wrote back carefully, but for so reason, that sister never wrote to again."
Guan Xia instinctively exchanged a glance with Xu Nian, both sensing suspicion in each other’s eyes.
"Can you rember what the letter said?" Guan Xia pressed.
ng Lan thought carefully before shaking her head. "It’s been too long—I was eight or nine. I vaguely recall a few lines, but not much else."
"Do you still have the letter?" Guan Xia asked.
Again, ng Lan shook her head. "It was torn up not long after. Soone must’ve been jealous—they shredded it into tiny pieces. I tried piecing it back together, but it was impossible. I rember crying over it for days."
Then, as if struck by a thought, ng Lan looked at Guan Xia. "Actually, I think I told you about it—when the letter arrived, and again after it was torn. Do you rember?"
At this prompt, Guan Xia strained to recall, and a hazy mory surfaced.
The next mont, the system interface activated—this ti not with text, but with three spliced-together video clips, just like before.
The first clip appeared to be set in the early morning. Guan Xia walked among a group of children, with Mother Chen visible ahead, holding hands with two kids while occasionally glancing back to check on the others.
ng Lan walked beside Guan Xia, bouncing excitedly and whispering in her ear.
In the video, ng Lan leaned close, murmuring, "Guan Xia, Guan Xia, guess what? I got a letter yesterday! From an older sister! She even sent a hair tie—it’s pink! Look, I’m wearing it now. Isn’t it pretty?"
At first, her voice was hushed, but her excitent grew, and she tilted her head to show off the pink bunny hair tie holding up her high ponytail.
Guan Xia heard her younger self reply in a childish, distracted tone, "Yeah, pretty."
ng Lan, seemingly used to this, remained undeterred, still hopping happily. A few seconds later, she whispered again, "I’ve decided—when I grow up, I’ll find my parents too. Then I’ll buy tons of hair ties—red, green, yellow, a new one every day! And so many pretty dresses—princess gowns, strappy ones, way more and prettier than my sister’s!"
Young Guan Xia finally caught the odd detail. "Sister? What sister?"
Still cheerful, ng Lan answered, "The sister who wrote to ! She’s all grown up now. She said in her letter that she found her parents, and they treat her so well. She even has a little sister and brother, and they all live together happily. That’s what I want too!"
"What letter?" young Guan Xia pressed.
ng Lan glanced around furtively before covering her mouth and whispering, "A letter from a sister. She said I’m smart and pretty, and that my birth parents would love if they saw . I think so too!"
Before Guan Xia could ask more, they reached the school gates. ng Lan giggled and dashed ahead, waving for her to follow. But young Guan Xia stayed behind, watching as ng Lan ran off with her classmates.
The first clip ended, and the second began—this ti at dusk, the setting cramped, as if hiding in bushes, with golden sunlight filtering through the leaves.
ng Lan was still with Guan Xia, pressed close, her eyes swollen from crying. She sniffled, lips trembling, wiping tears away every so often.
In the video, little Guan Xia tried to comfort her, but little ng Lan wasn’t soothed—instead, she burst into even louder sobs, wailing almost hysterically. Between cries, she kept repeating, "It’s too broken, it won’t co together. I tried, but it won’t fit." ng Lan looked utterly heartbroken, her cries piercing as she mumbled the sa phrases over and over. No matter how Guan Xia in the video tried to console her, nothing worked.
The second clip ended there, cutting abruptly to the third. Judging by the dim light, it was still evening, but the setting had shifted from the bushes to a room. In the footage, Guan Xia sat at a table, painstakingly attempting to piece together a pile of fragnts—not just torn paper, but shreds so fine it seed soone had ripped them apart, then shredded each piece again into countless slivers. Guan Xia tried several tis but found no starting point, eventually giving up.
Yet amid the debris, a few intact characters occasionally surfaced. So were highlighted with bright red fras by the system. Guan Xia examined them one by one, identifying the words: parents, ho, joy, dress, shoes, envy.
The third clip paused for a few seconds on the system interface before vanishing swiftly.
Guan Xia instinctively fell into deep thought. Piecing together ng Lan’s earlier words in the video, she realized sothing—though the letter had been torn to bits, and most of the red-frad characters were isolated, their implications were clear.
The letter, likely written for a child, had been straightforward. The circled words seed ordinary at first glance, but upon reflection, they were precisely the kind to stir a child’s emotions and desires. No wonder, when Guan Xia recalled her childhood, her earliest mories always circled back to ng Lan whispering in her ear about finding her birth parents. It wasn’t just ng Lan’s instincts at play—soone had been reinforcing that longing, deepening it over ti.
Guan Xia sighed heavily. The signs had been there from the beginning, but back then, she hadn’t known she’d crossed into a world fused with cri fiction. She’d never overthought it, never dug deeper.
Around her closest companions, Guan Xia never masked her emotions. Her reaction instantly clued them in.
Pang Le was the first to ask, "You really rembered?"
ng Lan, who’d been about to speak, tensed further, waiting for Guan Xia’s reply.
Guan Xia glanced at Pang Le, then t ng Lan’s gaze before nodding. "Yes, I did. I even recalled bits of what ng Lan once told about the letter’s contents. Just fragnts, but it’s progress."
She saw no reason to hide details about the orphanage, so she ticulously recounted what she’d seen in the video.
Even braced for it, ng Lan couldn’t hide her shock. "So… I wasn’t targeted just seven or eight years ago? This started when I was eight or nine?"
The more she dwelled on it, the paler she grew, until her face was nearly bloodless. Instinctively, she pressed closer to Guan Xia, practically glued to her side, as if proximity alone could steady her. Her expression eased slightly.
Guan Xia, in turn, wrapped an arm around ng Lan’s shoulders and murmured, "Don’t be afraid. After analyzing it, I don’t think you were singled out that young. Based on what we know now, it was more like casting a wide net. You were just one of many they observed. They likely only zeroed in on you after you found your birth parents."
ng Lan visibly cald, pausing to think before replying, "That makes sense. Now that I focus, I rember other kids getting more letters and gifts than —especially one girl. The short-tempered one I ntioned earlier. She was brilliant, always top three in exams, so she received the most letters, presents, even pocket money."
Zhong Xiaoyu suddenly interjected, "Do you rember her na? And Mom Geng—how did she react to all this? Did she never intervene? You said a few won visited often. Do you recall their expressions, their words?"
The barrage of questions made ng Lan frown in concentration. After a long pause, she hesitantly shook her head. "In my mory, they didn’t visit often. I can’t recall how many there were, just that they all had long hair, wore dresses and heels, and looked polished. They’d bring Mom Geng gifts, and Mom Geng… she seed delighted. She’d bustle around cooking, and we’d always eat well those nights. As for the letters and gifts, Mom Geng never stopped them."
She paused, then added, "Actually, I think she encouraged it. Whenever a child got a letter, Mom Geng would praise them. I was praised once too—just a pat on the cheek and a ‘you’re so clever,’ nothing more."
Xu Nian followed up with more questions.
As Guan Xia listened, she strained to recall sothing—ng Lan’s ntion of long hair and dresses had triggered a hazy mory.
Sure enough, seconds later, the system activated again. This ti, there was no text, just another fleeting video.
Judging by the shifting perspective, Guan Xia must have been climbing stairs. On the third floor, she glimpsed a child around ten years old carrying two trash bags, opening a door. Through the crack, a slender figure ca into view: dark, slightly wavy hair, a pale green dress, porcelain skin, and narrow eyes crinkled into crescent moons from laughter. The woman radiated warmth, yet sothing about her felt deliberately distant.
But Guan Xia, watching the video, felt no warmth. Above the woman’s head, the system had marked a glaring red fra—a clear warning.
Without a word, Guan Xia rushed to the study, grabbed a fresh sketchbook, and flipped to a blank page, her movents abrupt yet practiced. Only ng Lan seed startled; the others exchanged knowing glances before halting their discussion and filing into the study after her.
They crowded around as Guan Xia worked. As the figure’s features took shape under her pen, ng Lan gasped again. "I… I think I’ve seen her."
She barely got the words out before Pang Le raised a finger to her lips. ng Lan swallowed the rest and waited silently with the others for Guan Xia to finish.
Several months had passed, and Guan Xia had beco quite skilled at her task. Before ng Lan could even feel tired from standing, Guan Xia had already put down her pen and handed the sketchbook to ng Lan, saying, "Take a look. Was she among the people you saw as a child?"
The mont Guan Xia finished speaking, ng Lan nodded eagerly. "Yes, yes! I recognized her as soon as you drew her face. I definitely saw her when I was little. I wouldn’t have been able to describe her, but seeing your drawing made it feel familiar. Though I’m not sure if she’s the one who wrote that letter—I only ever received one, and never got another after that."
At this, Zhong Xiaoyu couldn’t help but ask curiously, "Did you ever write back to her? Or did you stop after sending one letter and getting no reply?"
ng Lan nodded firmly. "I wrote back. I rember it clearly—I sent three letters in total. In one of them, I even asked why she never responded. But unfortunately, all three letters went unanswered."
Pang Le and Zhong Xiaoyu instinctively looked puzzled, but Guan Xia seed lost in thought, as if she had pieced sothing together.
Noticing her expression, Pang Le asked bluntly, "You’ve figured it out? Then tell us—why didn’t that person reply to ng Lan? Was it because she wasn’t as good at school as that other girl?"
Guan Xia pondered for a few more seconds before shaking her head. "I don’t think so. Because ng Lan ntioned that besides being academically strong, that girl had another defining trait—she was also very poor at studies."
After sharing this analysis, Guan Xia turned to ng Lan and asked, "After your letter was torn up back then, besides crying to and trying to piece it back together, did you ever try to find out who tore it and get revenge?"
ng Lan’s expression shifted as if she’d realized sothing. "No. At the ti, I wanted Mom Geng to help seek justice, but she questioned all the kids, and no one admitted to it. I really wanted to find out who did it, but I didn’t dare go through other people’s things. After asking a few kids and getting nothing but denial and insults, I just let it go."
"So," Pang Le said, catching on, "ng Lan didn’t get a second letter because she wasn’t bold or ruthless enough?"
Guan Xia nodded. "I suspect that was one of their criteria for selecting targets."
This also helped Guan Xia understand why, despite being in a similar position of observation, she had never been targeted by that criminal organization like ng Lan had. Part of it was because Mother Chen was too good—patient, gentle, and doing her utmost to care for every child in their large household, which ant there were no major conflicts.
Another reason was that Guan Xia, with her adult soul, was naturally calm and steady. She had planned her future from the start and worked relentlessly toward it, instinctively ignoring any provocations or disputes around her. To that criminal organization, she must have seed too passive, too lacking in aggression—making her useless for recruitnt or exploitation.
Guan Xia also tried to recall whether, seven or eight years ago when ng Lan received news about her birth parents, she had gotten any similar ssages during her own college years.
But no matter how hard she searched her mories, there was nothing. Before, she might have doubted, but now, with no system interface triggered, it was clear—nothing had ever happened.
Guan Xia figured half the credit went to the personality she had always projected, and the other half to the system.
She hadn’t forgotten that without the system’s disguise, her soul would have been like a signal receiver to those criminals. The fact that she had grown up safely was largely thanks to the system.
Guan Xia decided she would never call it a "useless AI" again.
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