The Creator's Grace - Chapter 17

The deep blue sea stretched endlessly to the horizon. Rising and falling waves carried a merchant ship—vessel that was massive in its own right but appeared tranquil and tiny amidst the vast, seamless union of sea and sky.

The sun’s rays scattered a vast sheet of shimmering light, and from within those glimmers, a small yellow object broke the surface.

This was a manned submersible, having just completed three hours of continuous operation before returning to the surface. The mother ship’s mechanical arm retrieved it.

The submersible’s hatch opened, and Ran Jin emerged along with the technicians hired by the Chi Group and the project manager.

“The depth can be increased further,” Ran Jin said, looking at the various data values in her hands without lifting her head.

The technicians had thought this deep-sea exploration was a success and that the project’s foundation had been laid. They were all prepared to step forward, shake the boss’s hand, and offer their congratulations. To their surprise, the boss threw out that single sentence instead.

The fifty-something-year-old chief engineer said to her, “President Ran, the depth we reached today is perfect; it’s the zone with the richest marine biodiversity. All the ornamental creatures needed for the Undersea Paradise are found at this depth. I don’t think it’s necessary to go deeper. After all, below two hundred meters, there is no sunlight. It’s dark and dangerous.”

The chief engineer’s words drew murmurs of agreement from the people around them.

In truth, the chief engineer had already heard the young female boss’s ideas during the project launch meeting. She wanted to explore the deep sea. At the time, he felt the idea was naive—a waste of money and resources. Out of consideration for the boss who was providing the funds, he had offered his opinion then, but the project team had not responded.

Now that he could face Ran Jin directly, he had to speak up: “The purpose of the Undersea Paradise is to allow tourists accustomed to living on land to experience the freshness and diversity of marine life. Parent-child travel is one of the most important themes. If we continue downward, most deep-sea creatures are grotesque—no different from monsters in horror movies. I’m afraid many parents won’t want to bring their children; they’ll surely be scared to tears.”

The people around them laughed. The chief engineer continued, “Furthermore, the deep sea has too many uncertainties, and the costs will be much higher than above two hundred meters. My recommendation is to stop the downward exploration.”

Ran Jin listened politely to everything he had to say before speaking: “The Undersea Paradise is like a regular amusement park; it can be divided into a safe leisure area and an exciting adventure area. If above two hundred meters is the carousel for tourists, then below two hundred meters is the roller coaster. I believe there are people willing to explore uninhabited territories.”

Hearing her put it that way, it seemed to make some sense.

The chief engineer felt his proposal was intended to save the boss money so that such a good project wouldn’t end up unfinished. But the owner didn’t see it that way and didn’t consider it reckless. After all, the money belonged to her. The chief engineer felt he had fulfilled his duty to warn her. Besides, while these capitalists superficially claimed to want to build an Undersea Paradise, what they actually wanted to do remained unknown.

He remembered this President Ran was in the energy industry; perhaps her real goal was to secretly mine clean energy from the seabed. To avoid causing himself trouble, he chose to shut up.

The next day, Ran Jin continued to descend with the submersible. This time, the target was four hundred meters.

The ocean at four hundred meters was darker than Ran Jin had imagined. There was no light here; it felt like an eternal night. Occasionally, bioluminescent creatures would flicker past like ghosts. The submersible’s searchlights cut through the silent seabed. Ran Jin looked out through the observation window. Even in the darkness, she was intently searching for something…

The days of exploration had left Ran Jin’s body somewhat unwell, and the original one-week duration was extended to two weeks. Every few days, she would receive a WeChat message from Chi Yu, asking where she had gone and why there had been no news for days.

Ran Jin replied:

【I’m on a business trip out of town and have three days left before I return. What is it? Is something the matter?】

At that moment, Chi Yu, sitting in Ran Jin’s office once again, saw the message and replied:

【It’s nothing major. Focus on your work.】

She then stuffed the phone into her pocket.

She had locked Ran Jin’s office door from the inside. During lunch, there was almost no one in the company, making it the perfect time for Chi Yu to search for clues. She paced slowly through Ran Jin’s office, from the bookshelves to the lounge; everything was work documentation. Nothing particularly valuable.

After two laps, she sat back in Ran Jin’s chair and leaned back, feeling a bit disappointed. Because of that lean, the chair moved back about half a meter, and she discovered a small drawer attached to the underside of the desk. It was about the size of a palm, unlocked, resembling a jewelry box.

But if it were truly for jewelry, why hide it so inconspicuously?

Chi Yu immediately opened the small drawer. It was even shallower than she imagined. Aside from a preserved flower and a sachet, there was nothing else.

Chi Yu took the preserved flower out. The white rose, sealed in resin, was still lifelike; one could still feel the vitality it held when it bloomed. Leaning against the back of the chair, Chi Yu held the flower between her fingertips and slowly rotated it.

It was a bit strange. For someone like Ran Jin, whose mind was focused entirely on work year-round, who attended every occasion in a business suit, and whose very pajamas were conservative and stiff—why would she hide a preserved flower in a desk drawer?

It looked like the flower had been preserved by her own hands, not a decoration bought from a store. This flower clearly held extraordinary significance for her. Chi Yu’s gaze moved inch by inch over the white rose, pondering what exactly was special about it.

…Well, I saved the most beautiful one for you. Here!

That sentence suddenly echoed in her mind, causing Chi Yu to freeze. Those were words she herself had said.

Chi Yu immediately sat up straight and looked at the white rose again. It was remarkably similar. Four years ago, she had indeed given a very similar white rose to Ran Jin.

That day was her graduation ceremony. Her sister was busy with work out of town and couldn’t make it back in time, so Ran Jin attended in her stead. Ran Jin had stood at the back of the crowd, silently watching her exchange gifts with her classmates.

Chi Yu had been holding a large bouquet—red roses, white roses, buttercups, hydrangeas… a bit of everything. She gave the flowers out one by one to her best friends. By the time she walked up to Ran Jin, only one was left: the most beautifully bloomed white rose.

“Sister couldn’t make it?” Chi Yu was a bit disappointed.

Ran Jin presented a gift on Chi Li’s behalf: “Your sister prepared your graduation gift long ago. She really wanted to attend the ceremony, but this matter happened so suddenly that she had to go, so…”

“Alright, I understand. I’m not that immature. She just has to throw me a make-up party later.” Chi Yu gave the white rose in her hand to Ran Jin and said, “I know you’re busy too, Sister-in-law. Thank you for taking the time to accompany me. Well, I saved the most beautiful one for you. Here!”

Ran Jin was surprised and carefully accepted the white rose. Seeing the way she gently twirled the stem, Chi Yu burst out laughing: “Are you afraid of hurting it, Sister-in-law?”

“No…” Ran Jin said happily. “Thank you. This is the first time I’ve ever received flowers.”

Chi Yu let out a surprised “Huh?” in disbelief. “My sister has never sent you flowers?”

Ran Jin nodded, then added as if to explain for Chi Li, “She is always very busy; she doesn’t remember these small things.”

“Sister is so unromantic.” Chi Yu pursed her lips, very dissatisfied with her sister’s carelessness.

A classmate called her from behind. As she walked away, she gave Ran Jin a radiant smile and said, “Then I’m sending it on behalf of my sister, Sister-in-law! Love ya!” Chi Yu raised both arms and made a “heart” shape above her head.

Ran Jin waved to her with some helplessness: “Are you coming back for dinner tonight?”

“No, don’t wait for me. I’m going shopping with my classmates.” Chi Yu had already walked far away when she said this.

So, this white rose was a gift from me?

Chi Yu felt a chill. Because four years had passed, she only remembered that such an event occurred, and since all white roses look alike, even if this one bloomed exceptionally well, she couldn’t be certain the one before her was the one she had casually given to Ran Jin back then.

Recalling the night Ran Jin rubbed her hand against her own, and the tension whenever she was touched… that transgressive thought that had been floating in the depths of Chi Yu’s mind suddenly found a solid footing.

Chi Yu immediately turned on Ran Jin’s computer and entered a password. This time, the password wasn’t her sister’s birthday, nor any number related to her sister.

It was Chi Yu’s own birthday.

Before pressing “Enter,” Chi Yu hesitated. Pressing this would open not just Ran Jin’s computer, but a world Chi Yu had never imagined.

Was she about to open this Pandora’s box?

Her fingertip hovered over the mouse for a moment. In the autopsy report Qi Tong helped her find, the brutal marks of those dozen-plus stabs in her sister’s body brought her back to her senses. She quickly clicked “Enter.”

No matter what was in this box, no matter how many unknown secrets were in this heart, she would pry them open with her own hands and verify them with her own eyes.

After clicking, the loading circle spun rapidly. The password dialog box no longer shook from side to side; it no longer displayed “Error.” The system’s default desktop appeared before Chi Yu.

It was open. The password was correct.

Chi Yu had used her own birthday to unlock Ran Jin’s secrets.

The cold light of the computer reflected on Chi Yu’s face. Work software crowded the taskbar, reflecting a bright spring of light in Chi Yu’s pupils. Chi Yu stared at the screen silently for a long time, pinched the bridge of her nose, and let out a heavy breath.

On the tidy desk, Chi Yu also recognized the mountain range in the only photo there. It was a poster for a movie she had once liked.

“I like snow-capped mountains, and the lakes beneath them.”

One day during Chi Yu’s winter break in her second year of high school, her sister had a rare moment of free time and took her and Ran Jin to see a movie. After the movie, she and her sister sat in the back row. Leaning against her sister’s shoulder, she said, “If we get a chance, let’s go visit the filming location together.”

Her sister agreed readily and told Ran Jin to arrange it. Ran Jin gripped the steering wheel, focusing intently on the road ahead, and said, “I’ll look up where the filming location is when we get home.”

Chi Yu forgot about it later, and Chi Li put it in the back of her mind as well. It was like a casually mentioned plan, an opinion shared in passing. It wasn’t until today that Chi Yu herself, the one who said she wanted to go, finally remembered it.

She had forgotten, but someone had remembered all along. Just like that white rose she had casually given away, it had been treasured by Ran Jin all this time.

Chi Yu closed her eyes, letting complex emotions settle. She hadn’t expected it to be like this. No wonder Ran Jin acted so unnaturally every time they were close.

Why… wasn’t she her sister’s lover? When did she start betraying her sister? First that police officer surnamed Lu, and now me…

Chi Yu sneered. This former sister-in-law was truly “affectionate.”

Since she had discovered this, Chi Yu intended to verify and exploit it thoroughly.

Chi Yu called Qi Tong and said, “I have Ran Jin’s account password—if all her passwords are the same.”

Qi Tong was shocked: “Where did you find a master hacker for this?”

“I figured it out myself.” Chi Yu looked at the traffic on the highway outside moving slowly like ants. Her voice was flat but certain, and beneath that certainty was a hint of teeth-gritting resolve. “And even if Ran Jin wears an iris-blocking device twenty-four hours a day, I have a way to get her iris.”