He Denghong had often been bullied himself when he was in school. Previously, he had chosen to meet violence with violence, punching back at anyone who bullied him. As a result, he quickly became a “bad student” in the eyes of his parents, teachers, and classmates.
They didn’t bother to ask why he did it. Using their biased logic, they assumed He Denghong fought for fun, rather than to “reclaim” a peaceful life.
In reality, he hated fighting.
But if fighting his bullies meant he could continue living a peaceful life, he had no choice but to do it. However, he felt that this method wasn’t good for Sui Luowen.
It was even more impossible for him to suggest that Sui Luowen kill her bullies. Even if Sui Luowen now possessed extraordinary power, she couldn’t act without leaving a trace, and she would eventually be found out.
Furthermore, if she killed these classmates, what would happen when she encountered similar people in the future? Would she have to kill every single one she met?
Would she eventually go to extremes and become a notorious murderer, never able to live a normal life? Would she simply retaliate on the spot whenever she felt someone had offended her?
As He Jiulu thought of this, an idea gradually began to form. She didn’t intend to say it out loud, preventing Sui Luowen from having a chance to refuse or find out.
He Denghong controlled He Jiulu’s face, trying to make her expression look gentle rather than her usual world-weary scowl.
After a long while, He Jiulu finally spoke as if in passing, her voice softer than usual.
“Speaking of which… school must be pretty exhausting for you, right? Having to deal with those people while also… well, carrying out missions.”
He Jiulu tried to keep the topic natural. “Which school do you go to? I think Scarlet Hare mentioned it once, but I forgot.”
Sui Luowen turned her head, a hint of confusion flashing in her blue eyes, but she still signaled the school’s name in sign language — Yulin City Hope Primary School.
“Hope Primary School, huh…”
He Jiulu nodded thoughtfully. “What grade and class are you in? Are there… many students in your class?”
She asked vaguely, as if they were just making small talk.
Sui Luowen blinked, seemingly finding it strange that this senior suddenly cared about her school life. But out of the trust built during this time, she still signaled honestly, “Grade 5, Class 2. There are… more than thirty classmates.”
“Oh.”
He Jiulu responded, her eyes scanning the blocks passing below as if memorizing the location.
“Then… those few who usually cause trouble for you… where do they sit? I mean, in the classroom. So that if I go looking for you later… well, just in case I run into them, I’ll know who’s who.”
She came up with a clumsy excuse, her tone as casual as possible.
Sui Luowen tilted her head slightly, appearing even more puzzled, but she didn’t think too much of it.
She trusted He Jiulu. Although this senior sometimes looked fierce and spoke harshly, she was always at the front during battles, and… she had just listened to her troubles.
Her slender fingers moved again, carefully describing the seating positions of the main students who mocked her, even signaling their names and characteristics.
He Denghong ‘listened’ intently. Through the eyes of his clone, he engraved every detail — names, physical features, and the specific row and column they occupied in the classroom — firmly into his main body’s memory.
There was no expression on her face, but in her mind, it was like a cold notebook, clearly recording the information page by page.
As the questioning came to an end, the atmosphere fell into a brief silence.
He Jiulu seemed to think of something and suddenly cleared her throat awkwardly, even though a clone didn’t need to. “Um… Sui Luowen.”
Sui Luowen looked up at her.
“Normally… well, when I get emotional, some pretty nasty words slip out.”
He Jiulu’s gaze drifted to the side, looking a bit embarrassed. “Things like ‘F*** you’ or ‘piss off’… it’s a bad habit and a poor example.”
She paused, her tone becoming serious. “Don’t you ever learn that. From now on… I’ll also try my best to watch my mouth and say those things less in front of you.”
This was He Denghong’s sincere thought. He lived a difficult life himself and used occasional outbursts as a vent, but in the face of this 10-year-old child who had experienced such hardships, he felt he should do better.
To He Jiulu’s surprise —
Sui Luowen looked at her, those clear blue eyes blinking. Then, the corners of her mouth curled upward very, very slightly, forming an almost imperceptible, awkward, yet genuine smile.
She raised her hands and slowly signaled, “It’s okay. When Senior is angry, she’s very energetic. And…”
Her fingers paused for a moment as if she were making a decision before continuing, “‘F*** you’… it sounds very powerful.”
After signaling, she quickly lowered her head as if she had done something bad, the tips of her ears flushing slightly red.
He Jiulu: “…”
He Denghong’s main body nearly choked on his own spit. This reaction was completely unexpected.
However, what caught him even more off guard was still to come.
Sui Luowen looked up again, her curiosity outweighing her previous shyness.
She looked at He Jiulu, her fingers carrying a hint of hesitation as she carefully signaled a question.
“Senior… what were you like before? Did you also meet… people as unpleasant as them?”
He Jiulu’s body stiffened imperceptibly for a moment. Through the clone’s eyes, He Denghong could clearly see the pure, untainted inquiry in Sui Luowen’s gaze.
It was a child’s curiosity toward someone they trusted, even carrying an underlying expectation for a shared connection.
However, the question was like a needle, accurately piercing the secret He Denghong most wanted to hide — that beneath He Jiulu’s glamorous combat persona was the main body of an 18-year-old male freelancer, a high school dropout struggling on the poverty line.
A strong sense of tension instantly gripped He Denghong. He could almost feel his heart thumping heavily in his chest.
The Synchronization Rate even fluctuated slightly because of this, causing He Jiulu’s flight path to veer for an almost undetectable instant.
‘How should I answer?’
‘Should I tell her about He Denghong’s lackluster and somewhat pathetic past? Absolutely not.’
‘Should I make up a glorious, or at least normal, childhood for He Jiulu on the spot?’
That lie would be too clumsy, and it would be a betrayal of Sui Luowen’s trust.
‘Or maybe, if I reveal my true social identity, will she look at me from a different perspective? Will it lead to a lack of trust and a rift between us?’
While He Denghong didn’t think Sui Luowen would intentionally expose his identity, what if she let it slip?
That wouldn’t just be social death. Once the existence of He Jiulu’s main body was exposed, everyone would know that simply killing He Denghong’s fragile main body would result in He Jiulu’s immediate death.