Chapter 35: What are you looking at?

Of course, all of these were just Jing Rao’s own guesses.

After gaining the high priest’s favor, she had access to information and materials that ordinary members of the secret sect couldn’t reach, which led to her vague speculations.

However, ordinary members of the Sotto secret sect were unable to delve deeper into certain matters, yet their faith in Sotto was incredibly fervent.

Song Nanxing lowered his gaze, pondering the relationship between Song Cheng and the Sotto secret sect.

He recalled seeing the emblem in Song Cheng’s notebook when he was only five or six years old. Judging by the timeline, Song Cheng had only recently taken up his post in Tong City at that time, still a young researcher favored by many.

About four or five years later, Song Cheng caused a stir throughout the Nine Great Cities with the Black Goat incident. The case ended with Song Cheng’s death and was subsequently sealed.

Chu Yan suspected that Song Cheng had accomplices and was merely a scapegoat pushed forward.

Yet, she never mentioned the emblem or the Sotto secret sect.

Song Nanxing didn’t know whether Chu Yan was truly unaware or if she knew but chose not to tell him.

He temporarily suppressed his tangled thoughts and thanked Jing Rao, “You’ve done me a huge favor.”

Jing Rao raised an eyebrow, sensing that there might be more behind his earlier inquiry about the emblem, but since she wasn’t one to pry into others’ secrets, she simply said, “Consider it a return favor for you saving me.”

Song Nanxing smiled faintly and didn’t circle back to that topic. Instead, he looked at the stuffed rabbit on the sofa, who was intently listening to their conversation, ears perked up. “By the way, I never got a chance to ask—how did you meet it?”

Jing Rao’s expression shifted slightly as she turned to look at the stuffed rabbit. “You mean Little Moon?”

Song Nanxing was taken aback. “Its name is Little Moon?”

The unfamiliar name flowed naturally off her tongue, without the slightest awkwardness. A sudden inexplicable sourness and flutter stirred in Song Nanxing’s chest.

The stuffed rabbit’s red eyes glanced at him and, in a voice only Jing Rao could hear, said, “You can’t say.”

Jing Rao looked at her in puzzlement.

She had encountered Little Moon while wandering the wilderness, back when she wasn’t like she was now.

The little monster had a human body but a snake tail, with a hideous and grotesque appearance, as if it were a patchwork of severed limbs and scattered remains from the roadside.

Her strength didn’t seem formidable; like Jing Rao, she hid among the ruins in the wild, only daring to forage during the daytime.

She likely didn’t know the way and wandered around the fog zone repeatedly. Jing Rao had met her three times in a short span, each time with some part of her body different—sometimes a different arm, sometimes a new tail.

She was constantly assembling herself from monster corpses she found while wandering and hiding.

Once, they ran into a very dangerous monster. While hiding and fleeing together, they bumped into each other. Little Moon abandoned half of her body to distract the monster, allowing them both to escape.

It was only then that Jing Rao realized she wasn’t a mindless creature.

Her voice was childish; she remembered her name was Little Moon. She was deeply frustrated with her patchwork, ugly body and told Jing Rao she wanted to leave the fog zone and go home, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t get out.

Back then, Jing Rao was far from the hard-hearted person she was now. Seeing the pitiful little monster, she voluntarily offered to help piece together a new body.

Unexpectedly, after cautiously confirming that Jing Rao was skilled with crafts, Little Moon hesitated and said she didn’t want a human body. Instead, she wanted a stuffed rabbit as her body.

The stuffed rabbit had to have white fur, red crystal button eyes, and two long ears drooping behind it.

But in the wilderness, these materials were even harder to find than human corpses.

Jing Rao looked at the little monster’s hopeful yet anxious face, afraid of being rejected, and finally softened, agreeing to help.

It took them three months to gather all the necessary materials. Jing Rao then sewed a stuffed rabbit’s body for her.

After that, they parted ways.

Jing Rao continued wandering the wilderness, while the little monster, with her new body, stumbled off to find her way home.

Jing Rao never imagined that this chance meeting with a little monster in the wild would happen again.

— To avoid pursuit, she headed to Tong City and finally settled in Happy Garden, only to discover a stuffed rabbit she had sewn herself in a neighbor’s home in the same building.

The rabbit had been sewn with her special abilities, and when she saw it on the fourth-floor balcony, she recognized it at a glance.

The little monster clearly recognized her as well and would occasionally come to the sixth floor at night to play.

But she kept her situation secret. From beginning to end, Jing Rao only knew her name was Little Moon.

Since Little Moon didn’t want Song Nanxing to know, Jing Rao didn’t press the matter. She smiled and said, “I have a lot of stuffed toys at home. She’s probably bored being alone and sometimes comes up to the sixth floor to play. That’s how we got to know each other.”

She pointed at the uneven stitching on Little Moon and teased, “Girls should be more delicate in how they’re cared for. You’re too rough. I’ll take her back and fix her up properly, maybe make her a couple of new outfits.”

Song Nanxing looked at the sloppy stitches on the stuffed rabbit and blushed. “Then I’ll trouble you.”

He reached out to gently pat the obediently sitting stuffed rabbit, his gaze softening. “Can I call you Little Moon from now on?”

The stuffed rabbit looked up, her red eyes fixed on him, then slowly rubbed her head against his palm.

Jing Rao sat a little longer before bidding farewell.

She gently shooed Song Yunqiao off her lap and cradled the stuffed rabbit.

Song Yunqiao crouched by her feet, looking scared but unwilling to leave, affectionately rubbing his head against her leg.

Jing Rao glanced at him but didn’t seem particularly concerned.

Song Nanxing walked her to the door and, looking at Song Yunqiao limping closely behind her, asked with curiosity, “Why are you still keeping him?”

Jing Rao was momentarily stunned, as if she didn’t understand why he would ask such a question, and answered matter-of-factly, “He killed Kele, and I don’t want to raise any dog other than Kele. So I shoved him into Kele’s body. He likes being a dog anyway, and I needed a dog. Isn’t that killing two birds with one stone?”

She nudged Song Yunqiao with her toe and smiled. “Right, Song Yunqiao?”

Though she barely applied any force, Song Yunqiao’s body shuddered and trembled, making a whimpering sound, yet he still tried his best to please her by rubbing against her foot.

Jing Rao raised an eyebrow and laughed, cradling the stuffed rabbit with flair as she walked away.

Song Yunqiao limped along behind her.

Song Nanxing:

To be honest, sometimes he often felt out of place because he couldn’t understand the mental state of his neighbors.

He was about to close the door when the next-door door opened, and Shen Du came out.

Seeing Song Nanxing standing at the door in a daze, Shen Du paused, then followed his gaze toward the stairwell, but saw nothing. He asked curiously, “What are you looking at?”

Song Nanxing withdrew his eyes. “Nothing.”

Noticing the groceries in his hands, Shen Du asked enthusiastically, “What’s for dinner today?”

Shen Du smiled. “I bought fresh free-range chicken today. I’ll stew some chicken soup and make Kung Pao chicken.”

*****

The chicken soup was delicious, and the Kung Pao chicken went perfectly with rice. Song Nanxing unknowingly ate two bowls.

Rubbing his full stomach, he slumped in his chair like a useless fish, watching Shen Du sipping soup across from him.

Shen Du ate with refined manners, an indescribable elegance that was very pleasing to the eye.

Song Nanxing found himself staring at him in a daze until Shen Du looked up and smiled, asking, “Why are you staring at me like that? Is there something on my face?”

His eyes, hidden behind glasses, seemed magical. The moment Song Nanxing met his gaze, it felt like he was being burned. Embarrassed, he turned away, pretending to focus on the TV, “No.”

He certainly couldn’t admit that every time he ate with Shen Du, he felt an overwhelming sense of warmth and contentment.

Song Nanxing’s eyes stared stiffly at the TV news as he awkwardly changed the subject. “Hey, it looks like a group of missing persons just came out of the fog zone…”

As he spoke, his expression grew serious. His relaxed posture straightened without him realizing it, leaning forward, eyes glued tightly to the screen.

The reporter was covering the strange case of missing persons suddenly returning. Behind her were several police cars, and officers were busily registering the returned missing people.

The reporter excitedly said, “Most of these missing persons are from Tong City, with some residents from other cities. Their thinking is clear, and no signs of bodily mutation have been found. They don’t seem to have been heavily contaminated…”

As the reporter spoke, the footage switched to the returned missing persons.

They mostly looked disheveled, as if they had traveled far, their clothes dirty and tattered. Yet, their faces were filled with the joy of having narrowly escaped death. They lined up under police organization, registering their identities.

The reporter randomly interviewed several returned missing persons, who answered fluently.

Only when asked how long they had been missing and what they had done during that time did they show confused expressions, shaking their heads and saying they couldn’t remember.

Song Nanxing stared at the TV, unwilling to miss a single frame.

Every year, a large number of people go missing, but those who return safely like this are extremely rare.

Even though he knew the chances were slim, Song Nanxing still held onto a faint hope that his mother might be among them.

The reporter continued interviewing, and as the footage switched, a woman in a white dress flashed across the screen.

Song Nanxing’s eyes suddenly widened, and his heart pounded wildly.

He scrambled for the remote, trying to rewind the footage, but after pressing several times with no response, he realized it was live and couldn’t be replayed.

His fingers trembled slightly as he clung to the fragile hope and looked back at Shen Du. “Did you just see it? When the scene switched, was there a woman in a white dress among the crowd?”

Shen Du thought for a moment and nodded confidently, “Yes.”

He studied Song Nanxing’s expression. “What’s wrong?”

Song Nanxing’s eyes reddened uncontrollably. Trying to calm himself, he dialed Han Zhi’s number.

Shen Du heard his slight choking voice say, “That person… looks like my mother.”