Chapter 205

My love for you, aside from being forbidden, is entirely pure.

——

The operating room was lit by a cold white light, and I still remember the style of the silver scalpels and scissors.

Besides these, there were the woman's cries of pain, my sister's sobs beside me, and the doctors and nurses' exclamations about how good-looking my sister and I were.

When I was three months old, my mother, who gave birth to me, abandoned me and ran away. She kept muttering to herself as she left, and she looked very crazy, which was completely different from the way she acted in front of my father.

She put my sister and me down, her face showing no reluctance to part, only excitement and joy.

But my eyes were fixed on the birds flying outside the window.

If a bird breaks its wing, can it still fly?

Similarly—

If the mother's leg is broken, can she still leave?

I don't know, because with her departure, it's as if I've lost something called "memory".

In contrast, the younger sister's memory began to return, but she could only remember a nagging woman who constantly whispered in her ear things like, "The real mother was driven away by the current wife," and "The real mother is the gentlest and most beautiful mother in the world."

I didn't argue because I couldn't speak yet; I could only stare at the birds flying outside the window and think about everything.

When I was one year old, I often saw that new woman called "Mom," often engrossed in reading a book.

I don't like her, or rather, I don't like anyone.

I call the man who is almost never home "Dad" because he is my father.

But I know this woman is not my "mother".

My mother is a crazy idiot.

She's not; she's a cowardly idiot.

When I was four years old, the flowers in the back garden were blooming beautifully. A bird landed on a brightly colored flower, and I raised my hand to catch it.

Humans in their juvenile stage can only be protected by adults, let alone catch birds with their bare hands.

The predetermined outcome is—

The birds flew away, and I placed my hand directly on the thorns of the flower.

The skin, already in its infancy, is exceptionally fragile, and a lot of sweet blood gushed from the palms in an instant.

I didn't feel any "pain"; I simply raised my hand and licked the blood that was spreading outwards.

It smells very fishy.

But what followed was a group of people screaming in panic.

It's too harsh, I hate it.

Later, my palm was wrapped in a thick bandage, and every time I went to kindergarten, a bunch of silly, immature humans would ask me:

Does it hurt?

"..."

Did you cry?

Ridiculous, I won't cry.

When I was five years old, on an ordinary day, I came home from kindergarten. This time, the "mom" who would greet my sister and me at the door every day was not there.

However, I didn't notice it until my younger sister, who got off the bus after me, asked the maid in a coquettish manner, and I turned around to take a look.

Yes, he's definitely not here.

But so what? It has nothing to do with me.

But afterwards, that cowardly fool seemed to disappear, and this "mother" became very indifferent.

There were moments when I felt like she and I were the same kind of monsters.

She would sit on the swing in front of the large rose bushes, swaying gently, and look up at the birds flying in the sky.

Her slender neck, which was exposed, was fair and delicate.

Was she also wondering, "Will a bird fly if its wings are broken?"

But I already know the answer.

--Won't.

I turned and left, but she ignored me.

From that day on, it seemed that everyone in the villa was no longer surrounding my sister and me, but rather surrounding her.

I can hear it all the time:

"Madam is so beautiful! All the big stars in the entertainment industry combined can't compare to her beauty!"

"Madam is so gentle, kind-hearted, and devoted!"

"Madam is so generous! Madam is simply a god of wealth descended to earth!"

"..."

So annoying!

But inexplicably, after listening to it every day, I got used to it and accepted it.

But what annoys me the most is that the woman who chatters all day long is clumsy and always tries to cheat and be cunning.

After "Mom" changed, everything around my sister and me—the food, clothes, books, and so on—became unpleasant.

After enduring such torment, I began to observe her.

Yes, it is indeed very beautiful.

Her smile and the way she looks at people are indeed very gentle.

She was indeed very generous, but the money she spent all came from her father.

As for being infatuated...

I can't tell that the father didn't come home.

Like a voyeur, I watched her every move out of the corner of my eye in every familiar corner of my mind.

She may have noticed my presence long ago, but she never spared me a glance.

She was always so distant and aloof; even though she was right next to you, it was as if no one could touch her.

But for some reason, it attracted a great deal of attention.

Not only me, but also the aloof and intelligent housekeeper, the seemingly innocent and obedient sister who is actually a monster just like me, and every servant in the villa.

Until that day, Dad came home.

She took my hand and asked if I wanted to go pick up my father with her. Her palm didn't have the warmth described in the songs and stories.

Her palms were cool.

Although it was an autumn night, the heating in the villa was not turned off.

I pursed my lips, thinking about my recent living conditions, and finally nodded.

Go ahead, she might revert to her old self when she sees her father, just as boring and foolish as before, not worth his time or attention.

The autumn night breeze carried a slight chill. I heard that she was in poor health and couldn't be exposed to the night wind, so I held her hand tighter.

Fortunately, the father appeared not long afterward.

I kept staring at her, and she remained indifferently gentle.

In short, the "devotion" they described never materialized.

The pent-up frustration in my heart quietly dissipated, and I don't know why, but I felt happy.

See, she treats everyone the same way, even her husband.

However, the people in the villa were only wrong about this one point; everything else was correct, for example:

She is really beautiful.

Like the moonlight on an autumn night, it is cool, gentle, and has a subtle, delicate charm.

However, it only appears pitiful, because no one can control the moonlight.

After that, her father changed; he became more family-oriented and cared more about her.

But I was getting more and more annoyed because his presence made it impossible for me to always be watching her from the corner.

That day, she said she could let me go to the middle school I had always wanted to attend.

She would even take my sister and me to school, but she could only take one of us at a time.

Since that's the case, then we'll just make sure she can only ride in the same car as me.

A bird with broken wings, amidst the stench of blood spilled in the rose field, I turned around and saw a woman trembling, hiding among the rose bushes.

That day, when she took me to pick up my father, she seemed to have mentioned the name of the woman in front of me, which was Song Yue.

My face tasted slightly sweet and metallic, something I'd never experienced before. It was all Song Yue's fault for distracting me, but I couldn't kill anyone yet because my master hadn't taught me.

It might scare someone, but it's probably nothing serious.

Song Yue nodded in terror, her eyes filled with fear.

They think they can control me like that? How stupid and wicked.

I instructed Song Yue to stuff the carcasses of the birds into the exhaust pipe of a car, then wiped the blood clean before going upstairs.

The noise upstairs was so loud that I didn't need to guess what my sister was doing to "exclusively possess" her tomorrow.

I never expected to run into her. She didn't make things difficult for me, and she believed everything I said casually.

For some reason, I suddenly remembered that question that has been with me since childhood—

"If a bird has a broken wing, can it still fly?"

I already know the answer: "No".

And what about her?

Her wings are broken, and she's even imprisoned in this villa. How can she possibly fly again?

For at least five years, she hasn't been able to fly.

But... what about now?

I always felt that she would.

As I expected, things turned out exactly as I predicted.