Chapter Three: A Birthday Celebration

Qianyin remembered that today was a very important day, so she had gone early to prepare a surprise and hadn’t undertaken any missions. When Molan returned home, she saw a box on the floor and frowned; she was not at the Mo family’s grand estate, and few people knew she lived in this alley. Who would send her something? Or was it a neighbor playing a prank?

Already tense, Molan’s vigilance instantly heightened. Was a third group going to die today? What a cursed day this was! She kept complaining inwardly, but her eyes quickly scanned the area.

After repeatedly confirming there was no mechanism or poison on the box’s surface, she carefully carried it inside, glancing at the label. It was indeed addressed to her, but the sender’s name, phone number, and address had all been deliberately damaged.

After showering, she took a knife and cautiously opened the package, finding a beautiful dress inside. There was a small note attached: “Happy birthday, gorgeous.” It was clearly Qianyin’s handwriting.

Today was her birthday. Molan smiled bitterly. Twenty-three years old, another birthday—yet today was unlucky, for many had died. It seemed those born on this day were especially tragic, as if marked by death itself.

Molan stared at the ceiling, refusing to let her emotions spill over. For a moment, she wanted to cry, wondering if anyone in this world still loved her. All she had worked for—what was it for, really?

A knocking sound interrupted her thoughts, finally pushing aside that inexplicable mood. Molan went to open the door, expressionless. When she saw it was Qianyin, her face finally softened.

“I didn’t expect you’d come to spend my birthday with me,” Molan said, letting Qianyin in. Qianyin carried a cake. Both wore beautiful dresses and were strikingly attractive, like sisters, with faint smiles on their faces.

“Perhaps this is our last birthday together,” Qianyin said, sounding like a girl from next door. There was neither deep hatred nor innocent naivety in her eyes, but her tone hinted at a farewell to the world—words no one their age should say.

“No wonder so many died today; perhaps we’ll only survive this year at most,” Molan replied with a smile, bitterness rising again in her heart.

After all that had happened, was this cake a surprise or a shock?

With the door closed, the two girls sat quietly in the small rented room, gazing at the cake on the table, their smiles barely there. Yet their eyes brimmed with sorrow for the world.

The cake was beautiful—a Black Forest chocolate cake. Its edges were lined with green grass and lovely flowers, a unique rose blooming at its center. Though small, Qianyin had spent several hundred yuan on it.

On the modest table were some fruit, two bottles of wine, and two elegant glasses. It wasn’t extravagant, but it felt warm and cozy.

“A lovely cake. I can see you put a lot of thought into today,” Molan said. If she couldn’t give a gift, she could at least offer gratitude.

“Didn’t anyone from the Mo family call you home for your birthday?” Qianyin found the topic dreary. She often killed, but towards this woman who had protected her for so many years, she couldn’t bear to hurt her.

“Today, as always, you’re the one spending my birthday with me. That house—whether I return or not—makes no difference. I’m not as important as I imagined.” Molan still brooded over her grandfather’s words.

“Home” was hardly a foreign word to either of them. Others might look forward to birthdays and family gatherings, for after all, it marks one’s first day in the world.

If you keep walking down a path, never counting your steps, then turn around suddenly, you’ll realize how far you’ve come.

Both women set aside their grievances, carefully placing candles on the cake. Together, they sang the birthday song and made their wishes. It all felt remarkably beautiful.

One wished for a better future; the other wished that a certain person would never appear in her life again.

They cut the cake—it was their dinner, with no thought of eating anything else. The two-tiered cake was meant to be shared between them.

Neither particularly liked sweets, but once a year, it was rare. As they ate, they both, almost unconsciously, smeared cake on each other’s faces.

In an instant, two beautiful women had become little kittens, sharing a warm smile.

Their laughter filled the room, making the once-cold space feel incredibly warm.

Suddenly, the phone rang, breaking the spell. Molan quickly wiped her hands and answered—it was someone from the Mo family.

“Hello!”

“Are you coming home for your birthday? If you do, Grandfather will prepare a cake for you.” It was the old patriarch of the Mo family. He’d long abandoned power, and the only ones he cared for were his grandson and granddaughter.

In the Mo family, only this old man still cherished Molan.

“Grandfather, there were two cases today. I’m busy and can’t leave, so I don’t plan on celebrating. Thank you for your blessings and kindness. If there’s nothing else, I’ll hang up now.” Molan spoke all she wanted to say in one breath and hung up.

On the other end, the old man looked disappointed—he’d hoped his granddaughter would return.

“Dad, I told you not to bring her home unless necessary. No one wants her here anyway,” said the so-called father beside him, his tone cold and indifferent.

The so-called younger brother nodded busily; as far as he was concerned, she meant nothing to him.

The old patriarch snorted and turned back to his room. Faced with these two cold, heartless men, his eyes were full of deep disappointment. Was this even a family?

Qianyin never celebrated her birthday; she hated the day she was born. She always refused Molan’s gifts. Gifts, she felt, were a seductive thing.

In truth, Qianyin had always longed for love, but she knew that love was not forever. When it quietly faded away, the pain was unbearable.