So-Called Karma 20

They had come out at a time that wasn't a mealtime, but the restaurant still had quite a few customers. Each table was set with bowls of vermicelli soup, bright red chili oil floating on top with wispy steam, a plate of braised duck parts, and chilled bottles of soda in glass bottles.

At the next table, separated by a low rail, sat a young couple. One girl picked up a piece of duck blood from her bowl and insisted the other try it, saying it tasted better with vinegar.

The other girl wore an expression of brave sacrifice as she reluctantly opened her mouth and bit down on the food offered with chopsticks.

"How is it? Isn't it good?" the first asked excitedly.

The latter grimaced. "Not good."

"If it's not good, why did you eat it? You must be saying one thing and meaning another!"

The girl forced to eat vinegar looked at her unreasonable lover and gave a helpless smile.

Yan Xianchuan secretly withdrew her attention, her gaze landing on the duck blood vermicelli in front of the person across from her. Suddenly her tongue felt lonely, and her teeth wanted to chew on something.

She hastily picked up her drink and quietly gnawed on the straw.

Not long after the main dish arrived, the waiter brought out the sliced duck parts: a split duck head, two duck feet, a tangle of duck intestines, and several duck tongues, all neatly arranged by type on a white porcelain plate, silently showcasing how humans treat a dead duck.

If ducks could develop civilization, they would surely condemn humanity as brutal and terrifying duck slaughterers.

But Yan Xianchuan put on gloves and happily bit off the soft meat from a duck tongue, hurriedly drinking water to cool the spice, and thought vaguely: It's so delicious that if a duck tribe ever existed, she'd capture the whole tribe and pickle and eat them all.

After the meal, they passed a fast-food shop and Lu Mingqiu went in to buy two soft-serve cones. Each holding one, they walked hand in hand out of the snack street and onto the wide main road, where she raised a hand to hail a taxi.

"Driver, to Bi Zhu Garden."

"Sure, please buckle up," said the driver, a middle-aged man in a floral shirt. He turned the wheel and pressed the accelerator, merging into traffic.

"Are you two locals or tourists?" he asked enthusiastically.

"Tourists, here to visit Moon City. Any sights you recommend?" Lu Mingqiu chatted with the driver, smiling.

"Oh, plenty!" the driver said happily. "You've come to the right place for tourism. The must-see is the Moon City Museum—the largest museum in the Federation, full of artifacts over a thousand years old, and various fossils. Then there's Yao Chi, a playground you young folks like, with all sorts of rides."

"Another must-see is the Imperial City. Although part of it is a private residence and not open to the public, there's still a large area for tourists to visit. I've been there twice myself—it's majestic!"

"Don't get me wrong—I'm a cabbie, but when I was younger, I did like to travel far and wide. I've been to many places. But in the end, I found Moon City the best—the most beautiful and the friendliest people."

"Oh, and that Peony Pavilion chain—don't eat there. It's a rip-off. Overpriced and not tasty, they only trick tourists. Making food that bad really gives Moon City a bad name."

He obviously loved his city and had a strong sense of belonging.

The two chatted away merrily, but Yan Xianchuan didn't hear a single word.

After getting in the car, their hands had naturally separated. Yan Xianchuan placed her hands on her lap, interlacing them, her right thumb pressing against her left palm, but she couldn't stop the warmth in her palm from gradually ebbing.

She wanted to hold hands again... The thought flashed through her mind, but it struck like a clap of thunder, and Yan Xianchuan almost panicked, asking herself: What am I thinking?

She clenched her hands tightly. Those unusual cravings, that greed for intimacy, those improper fantasies—now they struck her like successive lightning bolts, each one striking her head.

Was this her? When had she become like this?

Friendship, or even love—hadn't she always dismissed them? She had scorned the idea of achieving an intimate relationship, had no need for emotional entanglements; these were burdens, things that only low intelligence fools would crave.

Wait... Yan Xianchuan's gaze suddenly froze, her pupils like expanding rings, revealing her state of confusion.

Had I just... Did I just say... love...?

She turned her head stiffly, creaking, to look at Lu Mingqiu who was all smiles. The latter noticed her gaze, raised an eyebrow, and gave an inquiring look.

Yan Xianchuan whipped her head back, her unfocused gaze going out the car window.

I'm insane. I am truly insane. How can the thoughts of a mad person be trusted? The mentally ill lack any normal logic!

Like being thrown straight from a warm blanket into an icy lake in the dead of winter, Yan Xianchuan nearly shivered from the outside in. She racked her brain to recall her diagnostic report. What had the doctor said? Emotional deficiency, deficiency... what part of the emotions was it?

Empathy?

She casually imagined a child falling, a disabled person begging, and concluded with satisfaction: Fine, no feelings.

And then? Love, she hadn't been tested for that, had she? Yan Xianchuan nervously started biting her fingers.

Every year, she had a psychological evaluation. Her parents would bring her, saying it was a family health check-up, and to keep her from suspecting she was special, both parents would also take the test, and they would all come out as normal.

Her parents were ordinary people; she was the normal psychopath.

But Yan Xianchuan was indeed smart. She had long noticed her differences from her peers and chose to hide that discovery.

According to the principle of equivalent exchange, her parents had poured endless love and effort into her, and she should repay them, owing nothing.

So it was only natural that she played the part of an ordinary person and learned the basic rules of society.

This had nothing to do with family love. Absolutely nothing.

And love? What had the doctor said?

Yan Xianchuan, returning from the bathroom, caught snippets of conversation at the door.

"Her psychological state is very stable—the most emotionally stable person I've ever seen. Normally, most psychopaths can't control their emotions or, rather, they don't want to. They might find someone talking annoying and slap them, or go further and kill them; some call it a crime of passion."

"But I don't think so. Such people don't have normal passion. They find the person annoying, slap them to shut them up—killing them has the same effect, just shutting them up. Both actions have the same result. So a slap and a murder are the same to them, merely a means to achieve a goal, with no essential difference. And whether those methods violate social norms isn't within their consideration."

"But in her, I see restraint. She rationally and deliberately chooses the method that causes the least social harm to achieve her goal. That's all thanks to both of you."

"Do such people lack the ability to feel love? I don't think so. The influence of family environment on a person is immense. What kind of character a person develops is closely tied to their family."

"If a family can cause a person to develop paranoia, irritability, or depression and pessimism—turning a perfectly good person into a patient—then why can't it turn a patient into a perfectly good person?"

That was all Yan Xianchuan heard. She knocked and went in, and the people inside all shut their mouths, changing the subject.

Her mother, unable to hide her pride, said she had scored first in the class again. The three of them then chatted about family matters like relatives who hadn't seen each other for a long time.

When they left, the doctor in warm-colored clothes wore a gentle smile and said, "This year as well, everything is normal. Keep it up."

Yan Xianchuan politely bid the doctor farewell, followed her parents out of the room, and went down to the underground parking lot.

Her father opened the car door, waited until she and her mother were seated, then got into the driver's seat and said cheerfully, "How about we go for a nice meal? Is there anything Chuanchuan wants to eat?"

...

"A'Chuan?"

Someone patted her arm. Yan Xianchuan suddenly came to and turned her head. Lu Mingqiu said with a smile, "We should get out. What were you thinking about? So focused."

She smiled at the driver. "Thank you, driver. Safe travels."

The driver waved. "You're welcome. Have a good time!"

Yan Xianchuan quietly got out, but her earlier flustered mood had unknowingly calmed.

"What happened to your hand?" Lu Mingqiu's gaze sharpened.

Yan Xianchuan looked down and saw a ring of teeth marks on her finger, blood seeping out, pain arriving late. She put the finger in her mouth; her tongue licked away the blood beads, leaving behind a sweet, metallic taste.

"It's fine." She withdrew her finger, which now only had glistening wet traces, the blood vanished without a trace.

Lu Mingqiu gave her a deep look, as if a thousand words were surging in her throat, but she said nothing, pulling out an alcohol wipe and a roll of gauze from her pocket.

Yan Xianchuan silently extended her hand, ultimately receiving a white bow-shaped finger bandage.

Bi Zhu Garden was also an upscale residential complex in a historical revivalist style. Just past the entrance, along the pebble path, were artificial bamboo groves on both sides, rustling as the wind passed through.

Following the pebble path further in, they passed by an artificial lake filled with lotus plants, but at this season, the lotus flowers had long withered, leaving only scattered leaves, with koi fish weaving beneath—all plump and clearly well-fed.

"The Yan family holds ancestral rites every year; it's a major event," Lu Mingqiu broke the silence, speaking softly. "You'll need an appropriate formal outfit."

Yan Xianchuan protested, "I don't want to wear high heels."

Lu Mingqiu laughed. "You don't have to. Formal wear has many styles, not just dresses and heels. When we get back, let's see this season's new arrivals; you can pick a few of the ones you like."

"After the clothes are delivered, you'll still need to try them on, and if anything isn't right, it can be altered. Don't worry about that; all you have to do is choose what you like. Leave the rest to the stylist."

"But," she added, somewhat hesitantly and with concern, "there are some things you might not be clear about. Your reputation in the Yan family isn't very good; you face a lot of ostracism. So when you go for the ancestral rites, you'll inevitably have to endure some cold words and sarcastic remarks."

"I won't cause any trouble," Yan Xianchuan understood the implication, and she spoke with a serious tone. "I won't say a single word when the time comes."

"I also won't raise my hand," she added as an afterthought. "Really."

"Good," Lu Mingqiu smiled tenderly. "I trust you. But I'm sorry you have to endure that. Perhaps you might think of a gift?"

"Then I'll think about it carefully," Yan Xianchuan said, her gaze lightly resting on the other person.

Consider whether this emotion that shouldn't exist is merely my biased conjecture or something real. Whether it's an urge triggered by a brief moment of... or... have I actually developed feelings for someone?

What is "like"? Is it long-lasting longing, an invisible tether, or physical desire, moments of warmth?

If one person follows another's every word, is that liking?

Back in the room, Yan Xianchuan buried her face in the pillow and, amid her confusion, typed that question into the search engine to ask the all-knowing internet and the vast populace.

Then she got an answer—this isn't liking, it's being a simp, bro!

What is a simp? She didn't understand and looked it up, murmuring, "Simp—meaning a person who, despite the other party not having any affection, repeatedly lowers their dignity and offers their warm face to a cold rear."

"Nonsense!" She angrily punched the bed, nearly inflicting irreversible damage on the bed frame. "Nonsense! I am not a simp!"

"Let me see, registered address... Yulu City, Shangang District, right?"