After Bringing Joy to the Short-Lived Mad Young Lady - Chapter 12

Lin Shuxing started taking her medicine as soon as she got into the car. The carefully arranged pills were stored in a delicate little glass box, its surface frosted with a thin layer of condensation, refracting dreamy hues under the starlit roof of the Maybach.

Her slender fingers, pale with a hint of pink, would slightly furrow her brows after swallowing a red pill.

Perhaps because her throat was narrow, taking medicine wasn’t easy for her. One pill after another—the partitioned pillbox was like Pandora’s box, endless.

Once she finished, she smoothed her chest, a few involuntary tears welling at the corners of her eyes, like droplets of ice clinging to jade, utterly translucent.

Lin Qingwan withdrew her slightly heated gaze and obediently handed over a tissue.

Half of her body had already quietly crossed the midline, closing the distance between them.

In truth, she wanted to wipe away her sister’s tears herself, but when Lin Shuxing’s cold gaze drifted over, that little flutter of excitement was swept away by the north wind, leaving her to tuck it carefully out of sight.

“Big sister…”

She called softly, as if afraid of disturbing the dark lashes resting on Lin Shuxing’s eyes.

Lin Shuxing lifted her gaze to meet hers, and after what felt like an eternity, she finally gave a careless nod.

This might have been the first time they’d ever been alone together so amicably.

Lin Qingwan stared at her blankly for a long moment. “Big sister!” This time, her voice was much louder, bursting with excitement as she bounced up—only to hit her head on the car roof. With a yelp, she clutched her head and slumped back down, looking up at Lin Shuxing like a pitiful little rabbit.

“Be careful,” Lin Shuxing said flatly, her tone not exactly warm. “Don’t damage my car.”

But at the very least—she hadn’t rejected the title!

Lin Qingwan grinned foolishly in delight, even forgetting to keep pretending she was in pain, and eagerly helped Lin Shuxing put the cup and the pillbox back in place.

She really wanted to chat with Lin Shuxing, but when she turned back, her sister was already leaning against the soft seatback, her eyes closed, exhaustion etched across her pale face.

Lin Qingwan didn’t dare disturb her, only watching silently with gentle eyes.

Big sister had… firmly stood in front of her just now, hadn’t she?

The screen in Lin Shuxing’s hand lit up—just a short message bubble—but with a single glance, her icy expression actually softened into a faint smile.

Not the poised, practiced smile of a young lady, but a genuine one that reached the corners of her eyes, like summer blossoms trembling, bringing her entire face to life.

There was no need to guess—it had to be a message from Fang Yi.

For a moment, Lin Qingwan felt a pang of jealousy, her gaze darkening. When she realized what she was thinking, she turned her head away in a fluster.

Lin Shuxing suddenly spoke. “That man… wasn’t he good to you before?”

“Ah,” Lin Qingwan froze, hesitating. “He was… alright, I guess. He…”

In distant memories, the man had once gone out late at night to buy medicine for them, or brought back late-night snacks after overtime work.

Their interactions had mostly been limited to the dinner table, where he’d ask about his son’s studies and occasionally inquire about hers.

He hadn’t done anything particularly terrible, but this kind of “inaction” was more like the black smoke billowing from a factory chimney, casting a shadow over the household.

Maybe there had been more—but Lin Xinyou had never told her.

Before being taken back by Lin Lan, Lin Qingwan had once believed that all fathers in the world were like that. People called it silent paternal love—invisible, intangible.

But as she grew older, Lin Qingwan could read from Lin Xinyou’s tears and anger that men were not silent—they simply chose the guise of silence.

The facade of a “good man” draped over the surface, as if it could earn him some kind of privilege. Lin Qingwan wasn’t sure what truly lay beneath, but she felt an instinctive fear.

Lin Shuxing frowned. “Good is good, bad is bad. If there’s a risk, it needs to be dealt with.”

“Your… foster mother, Ms. Lin—does she not allow you to see each other?”

Lin Qingwan hadn’t expected her to ask that. Her eyes flickered away. “No, we meet regularly.”

Lin Shuxing nodded, her gaze drifting to the window, lost in thought. “She loves you very much.”

For once, Lin Qingwan didn’t respond, and silence settled back over the car.

When they arrived home, Lin Lan was unexpectedly there. She had clearly gotten word of what happened and was berating the driver who was supposed to have picked up Lin Qingwan.

The Lin family had no shortage of drivers or cars. They should have ensured an arrival at least an hour early, not left it to the absurdity of Lin Qingwan arranging her own transportation.

Amid the tense atmosphere, Lin Qingwan hurried over and wrapped her arms around Lin Lan’s. “Mom, it’s not their fault!”

“Mom, have you eaten dinner yet? I want rib soup—today in class, the teacher mentioned…”

She cozied up to Lin Lan, playfully pulling her onto the sofa, successfully rescuing the trembling driver from further scolding.

The man, catching the subtle gesture she made, looked at her with tearful gratitude before being ushered away by the butler.

Lin Shuxing stood to the side, watching the tender mother-daughter scene, suddenly finding it all dull. She turned and headed straight for the second floor.

“Lin Shuxing,” Lin Lan called out abruptly. “Don’t you have anything to say to me?”

Lin Shuxing, already halfway up the stairs, turned to look at her. Unconsciously, her voice dropped to match Lin Lan’s low tone. “What do you want to hear?”

In the Lin household—no, in all of Z City—there were few who dared speak to Lin Lan like that. The butler bowed his head deeply, waving a hand to dismiss the rest of the staff.

Lin Lan said nothing. Her silence was more like a curved blade, honed pale and sharp, hanging high, waiting for the moment of judgment to fall.

“You suspect me,” Lin Shuxing said, the sting in her heart twisting into a double-edged sword. She couldn’t help but sneer. “What, just because I went to pick her up, this happened—is that it?”

Lin Lan had always been paranoid—perhaps a common affliction of those who held power. It was through such sharp suspicion that she had avoided countless disasters.

The Lin family stood too high. Even in the dead of night, the sword of Damocles above their heads could drop at any moment.

Everyone held their breath, afraid even the slightest sound might spark an explosion.

Lin Qingwan stood to the side, looking up at Lin Shuxing with pleading eyes, making small, frantic gestures. Please, please, stop talking!

Lin Lan narrowed her eyes and spoke coolly. “I’m disappointed that you would think that way.”

“…”

Lin Shuxing clenched her jaw and retorted stiffly, “So am I.”

Without another glance, she walked away, fully committed to her role as the rebellious one.

She hadn’t even reacted yet when Lin Qingwan, behind her, started crying. The soft, choked sobs only irritated her further. She slammed the door shut, locking out all the emotions along with it.

Meanwhile, Fang Yi waited and waited, but there was no response from Lin Shuxing. Growing more frustrated, he assumed she must be angry and could only stare longingly at the Dreamstone, waiting for it to open.

After an unknown amount of time, Fang Yi fell asleep first, slumped over the table, her steady breathing rising softly under the lamplight.

The crystal core in her hand gradually began to emit a dazzling radiance.

Ding—

“Lin Shuxing! Lin Qingwan!”

From the crowd, a man clutching a briefcase shouted loudly, “I’m your father!”

Fang Yi lifted her head in confusion. Everyone around her was taller than she was, and she had to be extremely careful to avoid being stepped on.

“I’m your father!”

Following that grating voice, Fang Yi slowly pinpointed the source. It took her a moment to realize she had already entered Lin Shuxing’s dream.

Slap!

A crisp, sharp sound rang out.

Fang Yi quickened her pace, but still unaccustomed to the little bear’s body, she tripped and tumbled head over heels, rolling far away.

The little bear scrambled to get up, and when she finally raised her head, she saw a frail-looking girl winding up her arm, putting force into her waist, her pale palm slicing through the air—

“Slap—!”

Fang Yi’s eyes lit up, and then she saw the man’s skull fly off, transforming into a basketball that traced a perfect arc before landing right into the hoop.

A full-court three-pointer! What a shot!

Fang Yi: “…”

She couldn’t help it—she burst out laughing.

The girl at the center of the crowd casually glanced back, but the moment her eyes landed on Fang Yi, they widened in shock. Hesitantly, she called out, “Little Bear?”

Fang Yi ran toward her, raising a paw in greeting. “Hi” nearly slipped out, but she caught herself just in time, quickly covering her mouth with her round, clumsy paw, turning it into an awkward chuckle instead.

The girl crouched down halfway, extending a hand toward her.

“Little Bear!”

Fang Yi threw herself into her arms, tilting her head up as she pondered what to say first. But then, suddenly, she saw a downpour begin beneath the girl’s eyes, each drop falling heavily.

The earlier fierceness had completely vanished. The crowd dissipated like windblown sand, leaving only the two of them in the world, holding each other tightly.

“I thought I’d never see you again,” the girl murmured, her voice muffled.

The little bear’s arms were too short to reach her cheeks, so she could only lift her head and nuzzle against the girl’s damp chin.

The girl’s tears fell like a summer night’s storm, loud and relentless, unlike the silent sobs in the bathroom before. She cried as if thunderous echoes had traversed years just to reach this moment, pouring out grievances so vast they could fill an ocean in one go.

Ah…

Fang Yi felt the hollow space in her chest tremble in response. Rainwater seemed to seep in, making her eyes sting a little too.

She wasn’t very good at comforting people, so she could only hug the girl tightly and declare loudly, “I’m here. I won’t leave you again. I’ll stay with you forever and ever.”

“I love you. You’re not an unloved child. You’re a little star—the brightest star.”

“I love you. The little panda loves you too. And the polar bear, the ceramic bear, the gummy bears…”

As the girl’s emotions surged, the dull mission panel suddenly bloomed with color, lighting up.

Main Mission · Lin Shuxing’s Request: Wants a Little Bear. Completed.

Rewards being distributed: 200 points.

Remaining points: -553.

“Promise me, then,” the girl said, gradually calming down. After the storm, her mirror-like eyes were clearer than ever as she held out her pinky finger. “From now on, we’ll stay together forever and ever—every single day.”

“Mhm.” Since the little bear couldn’t pinky swear, it wrapped both paws around her little finger and gave it a tug.

A faint golden glow quietly appeared, flowing along their touching skin.

After such a long separation, Lin Shuxing had so much to say, but facing the tiny stuffed bear, she worried whether the weight of life might crush it.

Holding the bear tightly, she walked through the crowds, across the playground, through dreams that spanned years, and returned once more to that abandoned construction site.

The sky darkened.

Under the warm yellow light, the swirling dust resembled snow.

“When I was little, I really, really wanted to see snow, but my health wasn’t good, so I couldn’t climb the mountains myself,” Lin Shuxing murmured, cradling the bear as she slowly sat beneath the light. “You brought me here, where running would make the snowflakes rustle down.”

Of course, she knew it wasn’t real snow.

But here, looking up, the line between dust and snow blurred under the glow, drifting gently downward.

Fang Yi had completely forgotten—those memories had burned away during her fever. Her dark eyes reflected the fluttering white specks as she slowly raised a hand toward the night sky, feeling as though she had forgotten something even more important.

What was it? Something very, very important.

“Little bear, little bear—”

“I’m here.”

“The gardenias at school have bloomed. They smell so sweet. A friend said her mom makes gardenia honey, and you can mix it with rice to eat…”

As the girl spoke softly, the bear’s nose twitched, as if it could catch the scent. “That must smell wonderful,” it said earnestly. “And taste delicious too.”

The night grew deeper.

Outside the dream, a silver key quietly turned in a blue door. A woman stepped lightly to the bedside, pulling the blanket over the girl.

She was always restless in her sleep, limbs sprawled out, only her stomach covered. Many of the scattered stuffed animals on the bed had already been kicked to the floor.

The woman stood by the bed for a long, long time, her gaze darkening as it lingered on Lin Shuxing’s peaceful smile. She seemed to be having a sweet dream, her eyes curved like crescents.

Silence finally gave way to a sigh. Lin Lan reached out to brush away the stray hairs from the girl’s face, but her fingers froze the moment they touched her forehead.

Why was she burning up—?!