Chapter Fifteen: The Mysterious Bond Between Qianyin and Su Bai

It had been a long time since the two of them had gone shopping for clothes together, so Qianyin quickly arrived at the small apartment. But to her surprise, it was a little girl who opened the door. She stared in astonishment, almost thinking that Mo Lan had somehow turned back into a child.

Mo Lan was busy and couldn't come to the door, so Su Baibai went to open it herself. She was polite enough for that much, taking on the air of a little hostess that was both endearing and a touch heartbreaking.

"And who are you?" Qianyin scratched her head awkwardly. They couldn't have moved, could they? Or had she knocked on the wrong door? She checked the apartment number again—no, it was correct. Then who was this little girl?

"And who are you?" Baibai replied, utterly unperturbed, her voice soft and childlike. Her eyes stayed fixed on the woman in black leather standing before her.

What a pretty young lady, she thought—no less beautiful than the woman inside. That was Su Baibai's assessment of the two.

Qianyin was surprised that such a tiny thing wasn't at all intimidated by the sinister aura she knew she carried. This little girl was intriguing. It seemed she would never be bored visiting this place again.

"I'm Qianyin. I'm a killer. What's your name, little one?" Qianyin found herself deeply interested in this child, even reaching out to pinch her cheek. This girl reminded her so much of her own innocent self in the past.

"You came so quickly?" Mo Lan emerged at the sound of voices outside.

"She's a cop, and you're a killer. How did you two end up together? Are you both bad people?" Baibai's innocent tone left both women suddenly embarrassed.

The two women fell silent at once. The little one was sharp—she might look naïve, but she was a little devil!

"Where did you pick up this kid? She's such a riot. But the way she talks is obnoxious. Aren't you afraid I'll get annoyed and kill you?" Qianyin quickly recovered and tried to frighten the girl, though from her clothes it was clear the child was in mourning.

"Her family killed my father, so now she has to take care of me." Su Baibai was never one for subtlety, blurting it out at once. Mo Lan hurried to cover her mouth—if word got out, her reputation would be ruined. After all, gossip could be deadly.

"Su Baibai, I'm warning you: don't say things like that again, or I'll throw you out," Mo Lan scolded, lips pursed in anger.

Qianyin's smile faded as she glanced at the girl. So, she was an orphan too.

"Let's go buy clothes," Mo Lan said, unable to bear the odd atmosphere any longer. Both girls were orphans, and at their first meeting, there was already a sense of mutual sympathy.

They all got into the car, and surprisingly, Su Baibai chose to sit in the back with Qianyin. The two exchanged silent stares all the way to the city center. Mo Lan found the mood peculiar, but the two seemed to get along well enough.

Eventually, the two began to play—making faces, sticking out their tongues, utterly unladylike. Qianyin didn't care who saw her in this innocent light; who would believe that this woman had killed before?

They arrived at the grand shopping mall downtown—a paradise for women, a graveyard for men's wallets. The dazzling array of clothes and accessories sparkled under the lights, tempting every passerby.

Everyone bustling about was either rich or influential. Most were beautiful women, with a few elegant older ladies bedecked in precious jewelry.

Still affected by the earlier mood, the three said little, focusing instead on browsing. Since they were shopping for Su Baibai first, they went to a children's clothing store.

With today's trends, little girls' and boys' outfits were truly delightful. Mo Lan couldn't help but sigh—if only she could live her childhood again, she would have so many beautiful clothes and new toys.

Qianyin earnestly picked out clothes, holding them up to Baibai. The two seemed closer to each other than to Mo Lan, but she didn't mind at all.

Su Baibai refused anything too bright or frilly, turning down many colorful dresses. She preferred white or black ones, a preference that left the two older women rather unsatisfied.

"Little one, if you dress so plainly, no one will like you. You should wear something cute and delicate—it suits your face and your age!" Qianyin suspected that the two women’s own plain clothing had influenced the child's tastes, and she quickly tried to coax her.

A little girl could wear the prettiest clothes; she should savor her fairy-tale years while she still believed in them. When she grew up, she'd realize fairy tales were just stories, and few enjoyed such a life.

"There’s been a death at home—why dress so brightly?" Su Baibai replied coldly, picking out a black outfit and heading to the changing room.

"I—" Qianyin was at a loss for words. Could this girl be civil for once? Did she have to be so blunt? Most people would never dare speak to her like that.

Mo Lan, seeing Qianyin’s “am I not suffering enough” expression, quickly patted her on the shoulder and said with forced lightness, “She’s upset—let her be. She’ll get over it. Haven’t we all been through this?”

Suddenly, the two women remembered their own dark beginnings. Their eyes clouded for a moment, then gradually cleared.

"Yeah," Qianyin nodded.

The sight of a girl in mourning buying clothes made many of the salespeople uneasy, and the one helping them trembled visibly.

"Um..." one timid salesgirl stepped forward, obviously nervous, her hands shaking and fear in her eyes.

Another woman, plainer of face and heavier of build, gave them a reassuring look. She kept a steady smile and behaved with poise—a woman clearly accustomed to the world.

Mo Lan and Qianyin observed the staff closely, not wanting anyone to further disturb Su Baibai's mood. Happiness was important; if she didn’t like it here, they could always shop elsewhere. There was certainly no shortage of clothes.

Seeing that someone was handling things, the two women acted as if nothing had happened, continuing to compare outfits. After all, no one would throw them out over such a trivial matter. The customer is always right—who would dare send the customer packing?