The Mother's Balance

“Nothing. I just couldn’t sleep, so I came out for some air.”

Chen Guan straightened and looked at her. “Tell me. What is it?”

Su Yuehe rubbed her cold hands together. After a few seconds of silence, she finally raised her head.

“You saw the drone footage from the briefing, didn’t you?”

“I did.”

“You might not have noticed, but there was a figure in the background that flashed by for an instant.”

Su Yuehe’s voice was quiet, yet perfectly clear. “I think it was my father.”

Baal’s voice rang out in Chen Guan’s mind, brimming with smug satisfaction.

“Heh heh heh! Lord Bael said from the very beginning that there was something wrong with this little girl. There’s another thing stitched into her body—half of it is her, and the other half belongs to someone else.”

Chen Guan ignored the noise in his head, his gaze fixed on Su Yuehe’s face.

Her eyes were filled with the desperate determination of someone making one last attempt.

“Your father isn’t…” Chen Guan left the sentence unfinished.

After they returned, he had specifically searched for information and learned that her father had died more than a decade ago.

“That’s what everyone believes.”

Su Yuehe cut him off. “But I know he’s still alive.”

“You want to investigate this?”

“Yes.”

Chen Guan pondered for a moment. If everything Su Yuehe said was true, then this matter was bound to be troublesome.

After all, what kind of person was Lu Ming? He was the husband of the Chairwoman. Chen Guan didn’t believe Su Jin could have been unaware of what was going on.

This wasn’t just investigating a phantom. It was digging into a secret of a powerful family.

And Madam Su certainly didn’t look like someone who would be easy to deal with.

But then again, could he really just leave it alone?

He was already involved now.

“I can help you investigate.”

He spoke as Su Yuehe’s eyes instantly lit up, then paused.

“But I have one condition.”

Su Yuehe didn’t answer immediately. She simply looked at him in silence, waiting for him to continue.

“Investigating this will be dangerous—not just physically.”

Chen Guan’s tone remained steady. “The truth you’re looking for may completely overturn everything you know. It might even hurt you.”

He paused. He could tell that Su Yuehe had feelings for her mother.

“My condition is this: when the truth comes for you, you must trust my judgment unconditionally instead of following your own feelings.”

A cold wind swept between them, stirring the loose strands of hair over Su Yuehe’s forehead.

She remained silent for a long time—so long that Chen Guan thought she was going to refuse.

“Okay.”

Su Yuehe lifted her face. In the darkness of the night, her eyes shone with astonishing brightness.

“I agree.”

…

Elsewhere.

The tent flap fell shut. The piercing alarm ceased, leaving only the rotating red warning light overhead, casting flickering shadows throughout the tent.

Su Jin stood where she was, still holding the report marked “Data Runaway.” The edges of the thermal paper had grown soft from the warmth of her hand.

“A stable entrance?”

She spoke in a flat tone, as if she were merely reading a report.

From the darkness, An Changsong emerged from behind the folds of canvas.

He walked to the opposite side of Su Jin, his gaze likewise settling on the coordinate newly marked by a red arrow on the sand table.

Su Jin didn’t look at him. Her eyes remained fixed on the miniature terrain model.

“I think this is the opportunity Lu Ming has been waiting for,” An Changsong said.

Every word carried absolute certainty.

He had seen too much to believe in coincidences anymore.

Su Jin casually tossed the report onto the table. The paper drifted down with a faint rustle.

She turned, and at last her gaze fell on An Changsong.

“Have you been brainwashed by that madman’s theories too?” Her voice was harsh and dry. “You want me to send Yuehe into that hellhole where even the structure of space-time has collapsed?”

“I don’t.”

An Changsong shook his head. He pulled over a folding chair and sat down, looking up at the woman before him, whose entire body seemed encased in ice.

“But Yuehe does.”

Su Jin’s breathing stopped for an instant.

“What you don’t know is that she went to see that student, Chen Guan, by herself tonight.”

An Changsong’s tone remained calm, but each word struck directly at Su Jin’s heart. “Your so-called protection is pushing her toward any outsider she believes she can trust.”

He and Su Jin had met because of Lu Ming. He knew little about her past, but he did know one thing: she was a devoted mother.

Everything concerning her daughter was one of the few things she did as Su Jin herself.

Su Jin’s lips pressed into a stiff, unyielding line.

An Changsong continued, “You understand the consequences better than I do. The rejection reaction from the Word Spirit will only grow stronger. This isn’t physical weakness. It’s her body trying to kill a power that doesn’t belong to her.”

“You gave her life, and Lu Ming gave her the curse.” An Changsong looked at her. “Now fate has given her a door that might lift the curse. Are you going to close it yourself?”

“What lies beyond that door could be even more complete destruction.” At last, Su Jin’s voice showed emotion.

“That would still be better than slowly wasting away here.”

An Changsong rose and walked over to her. “Old friend, you can’t keep using your identity as Chairwoman to play the role of a mother.”

“You planned everything for the future of human civilization, but your daughter’s life isn’t a piece on a sand table. It isn’t yours to plan.”

Just as he never interfered with his son’s choices, An Changqing was An Changqing. He could choose his own life, even if that choice wasn’t what An Changsong considered the optimal solution.

Once a life had been lived, what difference did it make whether the answer had been the standard one?

Su Jin’s gaze shifted from his face to the pitch-black sky beyond the tent. In the distance, a blue rift hung suspended there, as though it would never heal.

He watched her tense profile.

“Maybe that figure, that voice, and this vortex that appeared out of nowhere… Maybe all of it is fate’s blessing.”

Su Jin closed her eyes. Her long lashes cast trembling shadows in the red light.

Her mind flashed with images of her daughter’s pale face after using her abilities, and the stubborn look in her eyes every time she forced herself to say she was fine.

Everything she had done—sealing away the research, placing Lu Ming under house arrest, erasing every trace—had merely delayed this inevitable collapse.

When she opened her eyes again, all the exhaustion and conflict had been gathered away, replaced once more by absolute rationality.

“The new mission team will need a leader familiar with the situation.”

An Changsong was startled, then immediately understood what she meant.

“That boy An Changqing is the most suitable candidate.”

He was entirely serious about throwing his own son into the pit.

“I agree.”

Su Jin walked to the command console and rapidly tapped across the control panel, bringing up the personnel assignment interface.

“However, An Changqing can be assigned to the mission. Yuehe cannot.”

Her finger stopped over Su Yuehe’s name, but she didn’t press it.

“I’ll send her the mission briefing and risk assessment.” Su Jin turned to An Changsong. “Whether she goes or not, let her decide for herself.”

This time, I’ll give you the right to choose.