The Creator's Grace - Chapter 8

On the day of Chi Li’s burial, the leaden clouds that had been brewing for a long time finally released a continuous, drizzling rain. The mist was thick, the temperature plummeted, and the city plunged into winter overnight.

Chi Li’s friends and relatives saw her off on her final journey through the rain.

Chi Yu was dressed entirely in black, her hair tied in a high ponytail. Without a trace of makeup, she held the funerary urn steadily against her chest, walking at a brisk pace. Ran Jin held an umbrella high over Chi Yu’s head. Despite the unceasing wind and rain, neither Chi Yu’s shoulders nor Chi Li’s urn were dampened in the slightest.

The autumn rain grew denser, blurring the sky and earth into a single hue. The rain drummed against the taut surface of the umbrella, a muffled sound that blanketed the ears. The netting of raindrops blurred the vision, and all things under heaven felt heavy and gray. Only Chi Yu’s obsidian-like eyes remained clear, deep, and bright.

After placing her sister’s urn into the grave and watching the cemetery staff seal the lid, the cries of the relatives—who stretched from the hillside to the summit—mingled with the sound of the rain. Everyone knew this was the end. From this moment on, Chi Li was no longer of this world.

Ran Jin was shorter than Chi Yu. To keep the umbrella from bumping Chi Yu’s head, Ran Jin kept her upper arm raised high throughout the procession, her gaze fixed forward, as if trying to see clearly every frame of the misty rain.

It wasn’t until the wails of farewell echoed through the cemetery that Ran Jin withdrew her distant gaze. She looked at Chi Yu beside her and reached into her pocket, intending to offer the pack of tissues that had gone unused the day before.

To her surprise, Chi Yu was not crying.

Crystalline raindrops, swept by a sudden gust of wind, bypassed Ran Jin’s protection and clung to Chi Yu’s long brows and lashes. They made her naturally vivid features appear even more vibrant, her cold, clear eyes shimmering.

Chi Yu stepped out from under Ran Jin’s umbrella. She dismissed the others and stood alone by Chi Li’s grave.

“I will spend the rest of my life finding the truth. No matter who committed this foul deed, I will make them pay the price they deserve.”

Rain soon trickled down her face, gathering at her chin and dripping down like a broken string of pearls. Chi Yu let out a slight sob, hot tears mixing with the cold rain. She bit her lip hard, and once her trembling mouth and surging grief were temporarily suppressed, the fury she felt toward the killer transformed into a heart-wrenching longing for her sister.

For the first time in her life, she understood the meaning of a final parting—the meaning of losing someone forever.

“Sister, I’ve grown up. I can take care of myself, so don’t worry. In the next life… let’s be sisters again.”

Amidst the intensifying curtain of rain, Chi Yu kissed her sister’s tombstone.

After returning from the cemetery, Chi Yu took a hot shower. When she came out, she showed signs of a fever. Dazed, she drank some hot water, took some medicine, and leaned against the sofa to send WeChat messages.

She remembered that Ran Jin hadn’t left; she had followed her back to the Chi residence. Ran Jin had poured the water for her medicine and brought the pills to her. When she handed Chi Yu a dry, soft bathrobe, Chi Yu could still smell the rain on her.

“You should change your clothes,” Chi Yu said, her voice hoarse, as she held the warm cup in both hands and looked up at Ran Jin. “Otherwise, you’ll get sick too.”

Ran Jin gave a soft “Mhm,” but she didn’t change immediately. Instead, she said something to Auntie Su before turning back to Chi Yu: “There are some matters at the office I need to attend to. I’m going there now. You should rest well and fix your jet lag. Everything else should be fine.”

“Thank you for your hard work, Sister Ran.”

Ran Jin gave a faint smile and left the Chi house.

Chi Yu slept for a while after taking the fever medicine. She woke up at 4:00 PM and tidied herself up to head out. As she walked from her third-floor bedroom toward the living room, Auntie Su, who was standing there, looked up and said:

“Second Miss is awake? Are you going out? Dinner is ready; would you like to eat something?”

Chi Yu glanced at the dining table. It was filled with all her favorite dishes. Although she had no appetite, she didn’t want to waste Auntie Su’s hard work or a table full of lavish food, so she sat down and forced herself to eat a few bites.

“Second Miss, let me take your temperature. It’s not good to run around if your fever hasn’t broken. It’s still raining outside; it’s cold enough to make your bones ache.” Auntie Su used a thermometer gun to check her: slightly over 37 degrees. The fever had indeed subsided a bit, but she wasn’t fully recovered.

Chi Yu set her chopsticks down and asked, “Did Sister Ran tell you to do this?”

In her memory, Auntie Su had been a helper at their house for five years; while she was hardworking, she had never been this meticulous. This level of thoughtfulness was familiar—it was Ran Jin’s way of doing things.

Auntie Su spoke frankly: “Yes, Miss Ran specifically instructed me before she left. She also said you should try to stay indoors as much as possible to recover, and that she’d come to see you tonight after she finishes her work at the company.”

If this kind of care came from someone else, it might seem fawning, but from Ran Jin, it was perfectly appropriate consideration. She had always been like this, whether toward Chi Li or anyone close to her.

Chi Yu left after a few bites; she had to go out. She needed to see her friend and look at the evidence personally.

The international school Chi Yu attended in middle school was full of talent. Most of her former classmates had followed traditional elite paths, though some took less conventional routes. The friend who had been helping her investigate the truth behind her sister’s death was her best childhood friend, Qi Tong.

In middle school, Qi Tong was the school’s “know-it-all.” She had the “tea” on everyone, from the lower-grade brats to the school board directors. Every time Chi Yu asked her for information, she’d end up stuffed with unrelated gossip, so she eventually learned to get straight to the point with Qi Tong. Half of Chi Yu’s good habit of not wasting words was developed thanks to her.

Back when Chi Yu was working day and night to get an offer from a top university for lunar orbit studies, Qi Tong felt anxious seeing her friend’s life so fulfilled, not knowing what she wanted to do herself.

“Think carefully about what you’re good at,” Chi Yu had told her. “Everyone is born with a purpose.”

Unexpectedly, because of those words, Qi Tong examined her own abilities and realized she was exceptionally good at “gathering tea.” If she could monetize her talent for gossip, her parents would stop calling her a “useless snack” and an unfilial daughter.

While Chi Yu went abroad to study, Qi Tong opened her own private affairs studio while attending university. She specialized in “investigating privacy” and “gathering evidence,” guaranteeing that the entire process was legal. Essentially, she followed the gossip to the end and made the “farmers” pay for it.

Qi Tong’s studio had flourished during her four years of university. She had already decided not to pursue a master’s degree and planned to devote all her energy to her business after graduation. She hadn’t expected this increasingly mature studio would one day provide services to her best friend.

At 6:00 PM, Chi Yu arrived at Qi Tong’s studio. Qi Tong had specifically let her employees off early. After all, regarding the top-secret truth of the former Chairperson of the Chi Group’s death, the fewer people who knew, the better.

Seeing Chi Yu take off her sunglasses with a flushed face and low energy, Qi Tong asked, “Are you sick?”

“It’s fine. Let’s talk business.” Chi Yu sat on the sofa across from her.

Qi Tong was supposed to attend Chi Li’s funeral today, but just as she was about to leave, she received word that the surveillance footage she had been longing for was finally in her hands. She immediately notified Chi Yu and stayed behind to receive the video, even spending time to restore it to ensure it was valuable evidence.

“I got the surveillance. It’s exactly as I thought, but I need you to identify the person. Should I send it to you, or will you watch it here?”

“I’m here.”

“Alright, I’ve cleared the place for you.”

Qi Tong had thought Chi Yu would come immediately, but Chi Yu had said she was too tired and would sleep for a bit first. Qi Tong realized then that Chi Yu was sick. In truth, Chi Yu knew she needed to let her brain—which had been running at high speed for days—rest and clear up before facing the truth she was about to uncover.

Surveillance was the most direct evidence. Furthermore, based on Qi Tong’s tone, the person captured was clearly someone Chi Yu knew.

Ran Jin. It was very likely her. Chi Yu already had a lean toward that conclusion.

Yet, from her return yesterday to the funeral today, Ran Jin had been as meticulous as ever, just as she was before her sister passed. When Chi Yu first obtained the hard-won evidence pointing to Ran Jin as the killer, she had indeed immediately placed herself in opposition to her. The night she saw Ran Jin at the airport, she already considered her a suspect.

But during these two days together, contradictory details had started to seep into Chi Yu’s heart. She didn’t understand why, if Ran Jin were truly the killer, she could appear at the Chi house so calmly, keep vigil for her sister, and considerately comfort the younger sister of the person she had murdered.

Perhaps there was still room for another explanation. Chi Yu didn’t deny that, deep down, she still hoped Ran Jin wasn’t the killer. Another reason she hoped her hypothesis could be overturned was emotional. If Ran Jin truly were the killer, then both the sister who had nurtured her for years and Chi Yu, who had sincerely treated her as family, were nothing but fools who had been blinded for years.

Qi Tong brought over a tablet. Seeing that Chi Yu didn’t take it, she placed it on the table and asked, “Watch it now, or…?”

Chi Yu propped her chin on her hand, feeling her fever rising again. She blinked her burning eyes slowly and said, “Now. Play it.”

Qi Tong clicked the video. “Just like the destroyed autopsy report, I had to work hard to restore these. It’s not the original file, so the resolution is very poor, but the basic human form is clear.”

Chi Yu had seen the destroyed autopsy report. Although it was blurry—as if magnified from a tiny image—some words could be pieced together from context, and the outlines in the pictures were clear. She was indeed stabbed twelve times.

The video Qi Tong was playing now was surveillance from the golf course. It had been deleted, and Qi Tong had paid someone to stay up for several nights to recover it.

As the video began, Chi Yu’s face remained expressionless, but her heart began to race uncontrollably.

“This camera is installed at the back door of your sister’s lounge. There’s surveillance in the front hallway too—more than one camera—and the killer definitely knew that. To avoid being caught, they chose the back door, thinking there was only one camera there that would be easy to handle. They didn’t expect that the back door has a master-slave camera pair. Once one is destroyed, a more hidden sub-camera activates. It was likely installed specifically because it was your sister’s lounge.”

The video was heavily pixelated and blurry, like a candid shot from an old mobile phone. A woman wearing a white baseball cap, sunglasses, and a mask covering her face appeared on screen. She was wrapped up tightly, and even her jacket was a size too large, clearly intended to hide her body shape.

“She walks over and scans something with a sensor in her hand—here, this movement. Then, she likely found the camera’s position and disabled the master camera. Immediately, the sub-camera activated. Since entering your sister’s lounge requires facial scanning for permission, right here, she took off her mask and her face was captured.”

Qi Tong paused the video at the exact moment the person revealed her face.

“This woman appeared at the back door exactly half an hour after your sister entered the lounge, and twenty minutes before her secretary arrived. Unfortunately, facial scanning doesn’t require removing sunglasses; she unlocked it successfully just by taking off the mask. Otherwise, her whole face would have been exposed.” Qi Tong looked at the blurred half-face beneath the cap and sunglasses and asked Chi Yu, “Can you tell who it is?”

As soon as the question was asked, Qi Tong got her answer from Chi Yu’s motionless expression. It was obvious; even Qi Tong, who had seen Ran Jin many times, could roughly tell it was her, let alone Chi Yu, who had lived with her day and night.

“It’s her. Ran Jin.”

Chi Yu’s unblinking eyes stared at the screen, at that veiled face, and gradually turned red. Her throat felt as if it were being squeezed, tight enough to cough up blood.

“It’s her. No mistake.”

“Xiao Yu, you… drink some coffee. Calm down.”

“No need.” Chi Yu gave a cold laugh. While a massive rage surged in her chest, she was actually able to remain calm; even her tone didn’t change.

Amidst her calm, Chi Yu only felt her earlier attempt to excuse Ran Jin was despicably foolish. With what kind of mindset did Ran Jin stay at the Chi house, continuing to play the role of a gentle and caring elder? Was it just to deceive everyone and escape investigation? How proud she must be in her heart, seeing others blinded by her exquisite acting.

Qi Tong saw Chi Yu staring blankly. Her tone was indeed calm, but she had bitten her own lip until it bled. Qi Tong couldn’t help but take Chi Yu’s hand.

At the touch, Chi Yu snapped back slightly, and only then did she notice the taste of blood in her mouth.

“Continue,” Chi Yu said, tapping the video to let it play.

Her state of mind was now completely different from when she arrived. All her wavering suspicions couldn’t compare to the shock of seeing it with her own eyes. In the face of solid evidence, she could no longer be a fool.

No wonder Ran Jin was so obsessed with controlling the Chi Group. Perhaps that massive cake was one of the motives for her cold-blooded murder.

So, why did she come to the Chi family in the first place? Her sister was dead; her years of silent cultivation could finally bear fruit, couldn’t they?

Chi Yu lowered her eyes and gradually began to laugh.

Qi Tong watched her, a chill running down her back.

Dream on.

Everything belonging to my sister will naturally be inherited by me.

Chi Yu’s gaze grew sharp.

The Chi Group, and everything you, Ran Jin, currently possess, should be mine.