Chapter 6: Decadent Beauty

The slap from Dad sent my head spinning, nearly knocking me to the floor. His face was a mask of rage, twisted like a beast ready to devour me. He'd raised his hand for Fu Xiaoya without a second thought, ignoring the concussion that still throbbed in my skull, the bruises that screamed with every move. His brute force, his tyranny, filled me with a pain so deep it was almost physical, a crushing helplessness that made my chest cave in.

"Don't hit the child!" Xu Li rushed over, her tear-streaked face a performance of concern. She turned to me, her voice soft, pleading. "Xiao Yan, you're about to take the college entrance exam. If this thing sticks, you'll face fines, detention… a permanent stain on your record."

Fear gripped me, cold and sharp. A criminal record? I couldn't afford that—not with the college entrance exam looming, my one shot at escape. And if this got out at school? The whispers, the stares—I'd never show my face again.

"We didn't do anything!" I said, my voice rising, desperate. "Of course, we won't admit it."

I nodded hard, as if the force of it could make the lie true. Dad's face stayed cold as stone, but Xu Li's shoulders sagged, relief washing over her. Dad's eyes, though, bored into me, unyielding.

"Tomorrow, when you see the cops, you keep your mouth shut," he growled. "One slip, and I'll break your legs."

"Got it," I muttered, staggering upstairs, clutching my swollen cheek like a beaten dog.

That night, sleep wouldn't come. The concussion sent waves of pain through my head, relentless, but it wasn't just that. Fu Xiaoya kept flashing before my eyes—her feral grin as she ordered her crew to beat me, like a demon unchained. Then her charming smile, soft and fleeting, telling me to focus on college. Her slender waist under my hands on that bicycle, the silky strands of her hair brushing my face, her warm scent stirring something deep and forbidden. I hated her, yet part of me—some delusional, broken part—wished she was here, right now. Between desire and despair, I tossed in the dark until dawn broke, gray and unforgiving.

I splashed water on my face, the mirror showing a dull, lifeless version of myself—dark circles like bruises under my eyes, a ghost of the boy I used to be. Dad drove us to the new district's police station in his beat-up sedan, Xu Li in the passenger seat, her silence heavy with dread. At the station, a man in a suit waited—Uncle Xu, Dad called him, shoving two cartons of Panda cigarettes into his hands. Uncle Xu had connections, the kind that kept me out of cuffs yesterday. Dad barked last-minute warnings before handing me over, and Uncle Xu strutted inside, greeting officers like old friends.

They led me to a bare, gray room, the walls cold and colorless, a tiny window near the ceiling letting in a sliver of light. Three chairs, a long wooden table—that was it. My heart pounded like a drum, sweat pooling in my palms. After what felt like an eternity, two uniformed officers walked in, sat across from me, and opened their notebooks.

"Your name's Zhou Yan?" one asked, his voice flat.

"Yeah," I said, my throat dry.

"Why did you run away from home that night?"

"Too much stress from studying… I felt like I was breaking down. I just needed to get some air."

"How's your relationship with Fu Xiaoya?"

"She's my sister. We're… close."

The words stabbed me as they left my mouth. Close? After she'd sicced those thugs on me like a pack of wolves? After she'd shattered Qingman's face, my hopes, my heart?

"Liar," the second officer snapped, slamming the table. I jumped, my pulse spiking. "The four of them put you in the hospital."

"It was those three bastards who beat me!" I said, the lie burning my throat. "My sister couldn't stop them. She tried—she even took me to the hospital."

My hands clutched my head, the concussion's pain flaring as if on cue. "Post-concussion… my head—hurts so bad…"

The officers frowned, exchanging glances. Seeing me writhing, they shifted gears. "That night at the Xiangyang Inn—did you make any phone calls?"

"No."

"How did Fu Xiaoya find you?"

"I told her before I left… that I was going to a quiet inn to calm down."

"Zhou Yan, making false statements is a crime. Think carefully."

"There's nothing to think about. No means no." My voice rose, thick with emotion. "She's my sister! How could we ever do something like that? That would make us worse than animals!"

"You two aren't blood-related," one pressed, his eyes narrowing.

"But we live under the same roof, share the same parents. She *is* my sister."

The pain in my head was unbearable now, tears and snot streaming down my face as I drooped pathetically. The cops, worried I'd collapse, shoved the transcript at me for a signature and sent me out.

I collapsed in the back seat on the way home, drowning in misery. Xu Li's voice broke the silence, dripping with fake concern. "Old Zhou, should we take him to the hospital?"

"He's fine. Just give him some painkillers," Dad muttered, his voice cold as ever.

I didn't care anymore. Sooner or later, I'd leave this loveless house behind. Sleep, pills, oblivion—they carried me through the day, a haze between dream and reality, like a lonely traveler lost in a boundless desert. The sun sank in a blaze of crimson, tragic yet magnificent, and I drifted, unmoored.

By dusk the next day, we drove back to the station. Fu Xiaoya walked out after three days in detention, her frame thinner, her hair messy, her face pale, her aura battered but unbroken. She held her chin high, an unyielding warrior, and damn it… in that wrecked state, she was breathtaking. My heart thudded wildly against my ribs, a traitor to my own anger.

"Xiaoya, thank God you're out!" Xu Li rushed forward, tears streaming, arms open—only to be shoved away with icy disdain.

"Spare me," Xiaoya said, her voice like steel. "Takes more than this to kill me."

"…Come home," Xu Li coaxed, forcing a smile.

"No." Xiaoya's teeth clenched, her words dripping venom. "Ever since my dad died, I've had no home. I'm done living in this fake little family. I'll never call a man I hate 'Dad.'"

Dad flinched, shame and anger twisting his face as he lit a cigarette and looked away. Xu Li's hand rose in fury, but Xiaoya jutted her chin forward, daring her. "Go ahead! Hit me! Beat me to death right here! Then have another kid to replace me!"

*Slap!*

Xu Li's hand landed on her own face instead, her body crumpling into sobs. Xiaoya didn't blink, her eyes cold as the rain that had fallen the night she ran.

"Jie…" I croaked, lifting my hand in a pathetic gesture.

Her eyes locked on me, predatory, and she closed the distance, step by slow step. "What? You expecting a thank you?" She crossed her arms, snorting coldly. "Whatever."

"I didn't do it," I said, my voice low, steady. "I'd die before admitting to something like that."

Her lips curled in a mocking smile. Suddenly, she grabbed my collar, yanking me close—so close her nose almost brushed mine. "You little bastard… are you looking for a beating?"

Her hot breath splashed against my face, trembling on my skin. I said nothing, just stared into her bright, stormy eyes. In those dark pupils, I saw a tiny, warped reflection of myself—a boy caught in her shadow, bound by lies and truths too heavy to speak.

She released me, stepping back, her smirk fading. "Stay out of my way, Zhou Yan," she said, her voice low, almost tired.

Xu Li's sobs echoed behind me, dad's cigarette smoke curling like a ghost. I stood there, the weight of my lies pressing down, the reflection in her eyes burned into my mind.