So-Called Karma 18

Lu Mingqiu stumbled back two steps before steadying herself; a sharp pain pierced her mind, like a scorpion's sting.

Her condition was still better than the doctor's—the man collapsed to the floor, convulsing as if electrocuted, a rasping wheeze escaping his throat as if his brain were boiling. Grey Rabbit had just lunged forward to catch him when the doctor went still, his neck twisted, dead without a fuss.

Her eyes bloodshot and cold sweat beading on her forehead, Lu Mingqiu heard only endless ringing in her ears. It took her a long moment to find her tongue. "It's a psychic esper power," she said gravely.

"What about the rest?" Grey Rabbit asked.

"Get the brain machine over here to try," Lu Mingqiu said, taking a deep breath. "Have the chips extracted from their bodies been sent to R&D?"

"Already sent," Grey Rabbit said.

Lu Mingqiu rubbed her temples. "Have you found out who the Insect Master is?"

"He has a criminal record, so it didn't take long. I'll send it to you." As he spoke, Grey Rabbit removed his mask, revealing a face that betrayed no age.

He looked both young and old—young in his features, old in his eyes. As if he had lived through millennia, countless joys and sorrows, loves, hatreds, griefs, and delights, with nothing of his past discernible save for his deep gray eyes, quietly telling the story of their owner.

"You should go rest first; I can handle interrogating the Insect Master myself." Grey Rabbit gave a slight smile. "You're young; don't wear yourself out."

Lu Mingqiu hesitated a moment, then nodded.

She pushed open the door to the interrogation room, lingered in the corridor to collect herself, replied to Yan Xianchuan's message, and made her way to the lounge where Bai Ge was.

"How is he?"

"He's awake, just lying in bed," Hei Ge answered.

When Lu Mingqiu entered the room, Bai Ge didn't move at all. His shoulder-length hair was plastered messily across his face as he lay curled up on the soft bed, back to the door, like a sullen, brooding teenager in rebellion.

Silently expressing his protest.

"I know you're awake." Lu Mingqiu pulled up a stool and sat down, her voice gentle. "Let's talk."

"About what?" Bai Ge's tone was caustic. "I disobeyed orders on the spot—shouldn't I be confined to quarters?"

"Since you knew you shouldn't have done it, why did you?" Lu Mingqiu asked evenly.

"What do you know! What could you possibly understand!"

That remark struck a nerve in Bai Ge. He shot up from the bed, fury reddening his eyes, his next words sharp as blades.

"You all say he's still alive, but does that count? Can he breathe? Can he walk? The way he is now—he's not my brother!"

"Do you know what it's like to die once? Have you ever experienced it? You just put on a fake show of sympathy and say hollow words of comfort. You don't know anything—leave me alone!"

He stood with his neck rigid, like an angry little calf. Yet somehow, meeting Lu Mingqiu's tolerant, calm gaze, Bai Ge's eyes gradually reddened.

"My brother is dead." His lips pressed together, and two tears dripped down.

"I know," Lu Mingqiu said, then repeated, "I know."

She opened her arms, and Bai Ge charged into them like a little cannonball, bursting into loud sobs.

Lu Mingqiu ruffled his hair and said softly, "I remember—isn't your fifteenth birthday coming up in two weeks?"

"Mm," he muttered in reply.

"I'll give you a birthday present then," Lu Mingqiu said. "I think you'll like it."

After Bai Ge cried for a while, his grief and anger settled, only to be quickly replaced by embarrassment and shame.

He hastily pulled back from Lu Mingqiu's embrace and said in a low voice, "I'll go serve my confinement."

"Don't be so impulsive next time." Lu Mingqiu handed him a tissue, saying matter-of-factly, "Once I'm done interrogating these people, I'll hand them over to you."

"Thanks," Bai Ge said, hanging his head.

"Everyone makes mistakes, and everyone has to grow up," Lu Mingqiu said softly. "Growing up is like that—it's not a happy, joyful thing."

"I still have things to deal with, so I'll be going now." She pulled a piece of milk candy from her pocket and set it on the table. "Get some rest; eat something sweet."

After she left, Hei Ge's projection appeared silently and said slowly, "...I feel like I'm not quite dead yet."

Bai Ge shot him an embarrassed, angry glare. "What do you mean by that!"

Hei Ge burst out laughing. His face was identical to Bai Ge's, yet it felt entirely different. "You, you—stop being so willful from now on."

"I'm not," Bai Ge said stiffly.

He walked to the bed and patted the edge. "Come sit."

"Do you remember when you first awakened your esper power?"

Bai Ge's face showed reluctance, but his legs obeyed. "I remember. I wanted to steal the cake from the shop window."

"I'd already disabled the surveillance by then. All you had to do was walk in and grab the food. Can you tell me what was going through your mind at that moment?"

Bai Ge stared at this translucent projection, faintly glowing blue—his own twin brother. "I wanted to be useful too. I didn't want to be a burden to my brother."

Every winter in Horenkar, drifters froze to death on the streets. That day was Bai Ge's tenth birthday—and Hei Ge's too.

His brother had said that birthdays should be celebrated with cake. He'd already awakened his esper power then, but Hei Ge had never been to school; he used it purely on instinct.

He slipped through the bakery's firewall, turned off the surveillance, unlocked the door, and urged his younger brother, "Go on! Grab a big one!"

Bai Ge ran over excitedly, snowflakes flung against his face by the bitter wind, but his face had long since gone numb—he could hardly feel the cold.

He'd already had his eye on one: a two-layer cake covered in chocolate shavings that looked delicious.

But as he ran, a flicker of unhappiness and disappointment crept into Bai Ge's heart.

His brother was only a few minutes older than him, so why was he so capable, so invincible? They were the same age, weren't they?

If only he had an esper power too—one that could pull whatever he wanted toward him. Whether it was cake, or clothes, or shoes...

Bai Ge looked at his own hands—red from cold but clean—and then thought of Hei Ge's hands, scarred with frostbite. Suddenly, he loathed himself for being a useless little tagalong who could do nothing.

"You know why I seemed to know everything, like I was really something?" Hei Ge said. "Actually, I didn't know either. Most of the time I was just making things up. I didn't want you to be scared or worried, I didn't want you to get hurt."

"I wanted to protect you," he said, then paused. "Oriole said she'd apply for the cyberization program for me, and I agreed. From now on, when you come back to base, I'll be waiting for you in the room."

"I know this is different from before." After all, a synthetic body wouldn't have telepathy; the two of them could never go back to how things had been. "But I hope this can bring you some comfort."

"So that's the birthday present," Bai Ge realized.

"...Did I worry you again?" He felt both dejected and guilty, his head nearly drooping to the floor.

"Isn't it only natural for a big brother to fret over his little brother?" Hei Ge raised his hand and ruffled his hair—intangibly. "Don't overthink it."

****

Under the odd glances from people around him, Yan Xianchuan calmly finished his absurdly mismatched meal.

Then he had nothing to do.

He sat blankly on the cafeteria chair for a long while, unsure where to go or what to do. Lu Mingqiu had work to keep her busy, and he couldn't tag along.

Back in school, his teachers had said that a person needed goals and dreams—otherwise life would be empty, with no motivation.

Now he understood.

Without a goal, he ended up like this.

Yan Xianchuan shoved his tray forward, slumped onto the table, and tapped his cola cup, feeling like a kid left behind at home.

"What, you're not leaving?" The spicy rabbit-head enthusiast from the next table leaned over again. "Want more?"

"I don't know what to do," Yan Xianchuan said flatly.

"You know how to play mahjong?" he asked.

"Yeah," Yan Xianchuan said, already guessing what he was after.

"Perfect!" He slapped the table. "Three's a crowd—we need a fourth! You in?"

"I'm waiting for someone," Yan Xianchuan said, glancing at the still-buzzing rabbit-head fan.

"You can play while you wait!" He waved his hands animatedly, as if about to drag Yan Xianchuan's chair away. "You've got nothing else to do, right? When your person shows up, you can drop out then—no big deal."

Anyway, no one's keeping an eye on me. Yan Xianchuan muttered internally, then scraped his chair back and stood up. "Fine, lead the way."

Once they sat down and started explaining the rules, she looked at the unfamiliar suits and patterns in her hand and said to the beaming rabbit-head lover, "I think I don't know your regional style of mahjong."

Her mahjong skills dated back to middle school. There was a parlor in her neighborhood run for old folks, the crisp clack of tiles echoing from morning till night.

Curious, she'd pop in after school to watch for a while.

Back then, Yan Xianchuan was young—she occasionally threw tantrums and didn't want to play the sociable role—but her youthful face earned her praise from the elderly regulars, who said a quiet girl was just fine.

After enough visits, they started bringing snacks from home to feed her.

Eventually, Yan Xianchuan learned the game well enough to trounce them all. When her parents found out, they didn't know what to say.

Dragging her over to apologize seemed over the top and hardly good for her mental health—though she'd never been quite right in that regard.

So they simply taught her about restraint, respect for elders, humility, and knowing when to stop.

Then they prepared a fruit platter and sent it over to the parlor regulars.

After that, she only played mahjong to settle scores for her parents. Every family had those insufferable relatives—the ones who sourly noted how well-off her family had become, jeering that they no longer kept in touch with their own kin. But at New Year's gatherings, they couldn't say it to their faces, so they resorted to thinly veiled digs.

The relatives loved mahjong. Her parents didn't, but they were too soft-hearted to refuse and cause a scene that would upset her grandmother, so they gritted their teeth and played, losing a small fortune every New Year.

Until Yan Xianchuan took over their seat. The relatives assumed a kid would be easier to fleece and dismissed her outright—only to lose until their faces turned green.

After two consecutive years, no one ever invited her to play again.

Not only was there no scolding, but when she went home, she was rewarded with two soft-serve cones.

Her parents called it "serving justice."

Of course she still remembered how to play mahjong—Yan Xianchuan had an excellent memory; she remembered everything.

Only... the stone-like pattern in her hand—what tile was it even supposed to be? That genuinely stumped her.

The rabbit-lover's face froze as if it were a wax dummy. His incredulity, disbelief, and blankness shot out through his wide eyes like tangible rays, determined to pierce through anyone's guilt.

"You can teach me on the fly," Yan Xianchuan said, utterly shameless. "I learn fast."

The rabbit-lover still looked crestfallen, muttering words like "newbie" and "can't even play."

But beggars couldn't be choosers; even a novice would do. He pulled himself together, rallied his spirits, and first taught her to recognize the tiles, then the basic rules.

It was mostly the same as she remembered, just different designs and a few new additions.

"Got it. Let's play," Yan Xianchuan said, stacking her tiles with practiced ease.

The rabbit-lover and his two friends were die-hard mahjong fans who refused to use an automatic table, believing hand-stacked tiles had soul and could commune with their owners.

Their fourth had gone on a business trip, leaving them bereft for days—off their food, off their sleep. Finally snagging a stand-in, they were ecstatic, pumped as if they'd mainlined adrenaline.

And then they lost the first round.

Yan Xianchuan: "Self-drawn."

Then the second round.

Yan Xianchuan: "Kong bloom."

And the third.

Yan Xianchuan: "Three concealed hands, triple score."

The rabbit-lover sucked in a sharp breath. "This has to be beginner's luck! It has to be!"

But Yan Xianchuan was now an adult who knew when to ease off; the three of them also had real skill, so the games went back and forth, though she came out ahead overall.

Just as they were deep in play, a message buzzed in. The sender was saved as "Assistant Zeng," and it read: 【Second Miss, the ancestral rites are on the 27th of this month. Please return to the estate two days early.】

Ancestral rites?

Yan Xianchuan: 【Can I skip it?】

Assistant Zeng: 【Mr. Yan will be displeased. It's best if you come back, Second Miss. Please bring your wife as well.】

Annoying.

Yan Xianchuan forwarded the message to Lu Mingqiu. The latter replied instantly: 【Got it. We'll talk when we're back.】

Then she sent another address: 【This is a safe house. If you've nowhere to go, you can wait for me there.】

Yan Xianchuan: 【But I want to be with you. Can't I come find you?】

A moment later, Lu Mingqiu sent a location.

Zone B, No. 03... Yan Xianchuan immediately discarded an eight-bamboo, feeding the player to her left a win. Beaming, she said, "I'm done. My person's here—gotta go!"

With that, she turned and bolted, not even paying before she left.

Meanwhile, Lu Mingqiu had left Bai Ge's room and hurried straight to the interrogation room where the Insect Master was held, because a major incident had occurred.

The so-called intel he'd provided was completely fake—nothing but a malicious virus. The moment it was scanned, it breached the base network and smashed through the firewall.

Had Hei Ge not happened to be there to purge the virus in time, the damage could have been catastrophic; they nearly lost their coordinates.

When Lu Mingqiu arrived, Grey Rabbit was standing with arms crossed, listening to the Insect Master's explanation. He had put that comical smiling rabbit mask back on, making his expression unreadable.

"I came to you willingly—why would I be stupid enough to attack you with a virus?" the Insect Master stammered in terror. "Wouldn't that be signing my own death warrant?"

"It must be that old bastard Dr. Bonner setting me up! He's the one who gave me the chip—I don't understand any of this."

"Esper, they call me—but in the Church, that just makes me a glorified thug. I never took part in those experiments! I asked him for the chip, and he gave it to me. It's true! You have to believe me!"