The silver-gray pressure cooker had been sitting still on the cold gas stove for quite some time.
It wouldn’t be long before the warm pot grew as cold as the stove beneath it.
Tang Qinqin and her mother, Tang Yun, sat at the dining table, their expressions long gone from the earlier calm.
Their almost identical slender brows were tightly furrowed, and their eyes flickered anxiously between the clock on the wall and the firmly shut front door. Worry deepened in their hearts.
“Mom, it’s already this late. Why hasn’t my sister come back yet?” Tang Qinqin pouted, her voice tinged with concern.
“Mom doesn’t know either,” Tang Yun replied, her brow tightly knit as she glanced up at the clock again.
8:20.
According to her daughter’s usual schedule, she should have been home by 7:30. Now it was almost an hour past that, and she still hadn’t returned.
Turning toward the still-closed door, Tang Yun asked, “Did your sister say if she was going to a friend’s house tonight?”
“No,” Tang Qinqin shook her head. “She wouldn’t just go to a friend’s without telling anyone.”
“And I told her this morning that I’d make something delicious for dinner, so she should come back early. She even nodded and agreed. She wouldn’t suddenly go off to someone else’s place.”
Hearing this, Tang Yun’s worry deepened even further.
After a while, as the minute hand finally pointed to the six, Tang Yun could no longer hold back.
She stood up, took down an old black cotton jacket from the coat rack, slipped it on, and prepared to head out in haste.
While putting on her shoes, she reminded Tang Qinqin inside the house, “Qinqin, wait here for me. If your sister comes back, call me right away.”
“I won’t,” Tang Qinqin stood up from the plastic stool stubbornly.
“I’m coming too.”
At that moment, Tang Yun had already put on her shoes. She straightened up, frowned, and asked her daughter, “What are you going to do?”
“Obey,” Tang Qinqin said.
“Be good and wait at home. If your sister comes back and neither of us is here, won’t we miss her?”
“No,” Tang Qinqin shook her head. She grabbed the phone her sister had left at home and slipped it into her pocket while putting on her coat.
“If sister comes back and finds neither of us home, she’ll definitely call us on the landline.”
“We won’t miss her.”
Seeing she couldn’t persuade her daughter, Tang Yun finally gave in with a helpless sigh and reminded her once more, “Dress warmly. It’s cold outside.”
...
...
The night was windless, yet the biting cold was everywhere.
Tang Qinqin tugged her cotton hat down a little more until its soft, warm brim completely covered her ears. She hunched her shoulders and continued taking quick, small steps toward the school.
The streetlights cast a dim yellow glow over the patches of snow that hadn’t melted yet.
Tang Qinqin glanced left and right as she walked. Thanks to the deep chill of the night, there were very few people on the streets, so it wasn’t hard for her to look for someone.
Soon enough,
In a park not far from home, Tang Qinqin spotted a solitary figure sitting alone on a bench.
Walking toward that slender figure, Tang Qinqin’s heart surged with a flicker of hope as she recognized the No.3 Middle School uniform on the person ahead. Her steps quickened without her even realizing it.
Drawing closer, she spotted the familiar black backpack beside the silhouette. At that moment, the weight in Tang Qinqin’s heart finally lifted.
She hurried over to the bench and looked down at her sister, whose head hung low. Tang Qinqin’s voice carried a hint of gentle reproach as she said,
“Sis, why are you just sitting here? Why aren’t you going home?”
At last, Tang Manman stirred. She lifted her head, revealing a delicate nose and exquisitely beautiful face flushed red from the cold. But what caught the eye most were her eyelashes.
Her long, curled lashes were stiff and tangled like icy spears, dusted with tiny shards of ice—clear evidence of how long she had been crying here.
Seeing her sister in such a state, Tang Qinqin suddenly panicked, and all the little complaints she had just now vanished.
She sat down beside Tang Manman, gently wiping away the few tear drops already frozen on her sister’s cheek.
Feeling the chilling coldness of her sister’s skin, robbed of all warmth by the biting wind, Tang Qinqin grew increasingly anxious. Furrowing her delicate brows, she asked,
“What’s wrong, sis?”
“Did someone bully you?”
Tang Manman shook her head. Her lips trembled but she quickly pressed them together. She sniffled, and tears quickly welled up in her swollen, red-rimmed eyes.
“I’m sorry.”
“Qinqin.”
“I’m sorry...”
...
...
Under the streetlamp at the alley’s entrance, the girl stood quietly.
She lowered her head slightly, staring blankly at the patch of pristine snow untouched by pollution, her brows knitted with a sorrow that seemed impossible to unravel.
Suddenly, the sound of hurried footsteps crunching on snow approached from afar, snapping the girl back to reality.
Seeing her mother hurrying over, she ran up to meet her.
“Where’s your sister?”
In just a short while, Tang’s mother’s face was flushed red from the cold, but she clearly didn’t care. Her voice was sharp, laced with an anger that weighed heavily in the air.
“She’s at home.”
Tang Qinqin answered.
Seeing her mother ready to storm home and give her sister a piece of her mind, Tang Qinqin quickly stopped her, pleading,
“Mom, wait a moment, please.”
“For what?”
Tang’s mother halted, her anger simmering as she asked.
“Mom, please don’t be mad at sister when you get home, okay?”
Tang Qinqin’s voice was full of earnest pleading.
“She’s already very upset today.”
“She didn’t do well on her exam and was so scared of you getting mad that she hid in the park all evening, afraid to go home.”
“Me? Mad at her?”
“When have I ever scolded her?”
Hearing her youngest daughter’s words, Tang’s mother felt a bit wronged. She hadn’t scolded Tang Manman once since she was little—not even a few harsh words. When had she ever gotten angry at her?
Though, truth be told, she had planned to give her a good scolding once they got home.
Not coming home late at night—
It made the whole family worry, and that was simply too much!
Tang’s mother was very angry, but upon hearing that her beloved daughter had done poorly on her exam and was hiding in the park out of fear, she couldn’t help but feel a pang of heartache.
At the same time, she was filled with curiosity.
How many points did she actually get on this exam?
How could she possibly have scored so poorly that she didn’t even dare to come home?
Tang’s mother stared at her youngest daughter, took a deep breath, and swallowed the anger welling up inside her before asking,
“How did your sister rank this time?”
Tang Qinqin opened her mouth, hesitated, then pressed her lips together, looking at her mother timidly as if the ranking was something she had personally caused.
“Tell me, quickly!”
Tang’s mother urged impatiently.
Under her mother’s pressure, Tang Qinqin shrank back slightly and stammered,
“Fifty-seventh place...”

d intelligence to keep the plot moving, and sometimes even the protagonists are forced into absurdly dumb decisions. Why does the A-list celebrity heroine in urban romance novels ditch the top-tier movie star and become a lovestruck fool for a pockmarked male lead? Why do the leads in historical tragedy novels keep dancing between love and death, only for the blind healer to end up suffering the most? And Gu Wei never expected that after finally landing a villain role to stir up trouble, she’d pick the wrong gender! No choice now—she’ll just have to crush the protagonists as a girl!

grated, and just when he finally managed to get into an elite academy, he discovered that he actually had a system, and the way to earn rewards was extremely ridiculous. So for the sake of rewards, he had no choice but to start acting ridiculous as well. Su Cheng: "It's nothing but system quests after all." But later, what confused Su Cheng was that while he was already quite ridiculous, he never expected those serious characters to gradually become ridiculous too. And the way they looked at him became increasingly strange... (This synopsis doesn't do it justice, please read the full story)

with countless casualties. As a top-tier gamer, Liu Xuan volunteered to join the fight, intending to dominate with his skills, but instead he obtained the hidden class: [Pacifist]. Unable to attack. Unable to use active skills. Fortunately, with each level gained, he acquired a new passive skill. And so, armed with a body full of passives, Liu Xuan slaughtered his way through the battlefield of ten thousand races! [You attacked Liu Xuan] [You gained the debuffs: 'Poison', 'Fear', 'Burning', 'Bleeding', 'Freeze', 'Silence', etc.] [Your attack speed has been reduced by 99%] [Your armor and magic resistance have been reduced by 99%] Warriors of the Ten Thousand Races: How the hell am I supposed to fight this?!

iemie, male, Race: Moon. Hobby: Collecting anomalies. At first, he thought he possessed two systems: the Crimson Rainbow Moon and the Clear Cold Frost Moon. One day, he discovered that he himself could also become a system for others, holding the chessboard of fate. The Eighth Epoch, also known as the Eternal Moon Epoch. Humans, witches, elves, bloodline descendants, specters, demons, and spirits together compose a new history. Walking the path on behalf of the moon, before he knew it, Chen Miemie's footsteps were followed by all manner of strange and wondrous anomalies. As time passed, many titles circulated about him—The King in Yellow, Lord of Anomalies, Heart of the Eternal Moon, and more. "Me? I'm just a traveler who enjoys collecting interesting creatures," Chen Miemie said.