Saturday morning arrived with clear skies.
After two days of rain, Cloud City looked newly washed. Sunlight reflected from the glass towers, puddles shimmered along the sidewalks, and damp leaves clung to the pavement beneath the trees.
Sang Yaoyao stood outside a neighborhood market holding two shopping bags and questioning every decision that had brought her there.
From the left bag came an offended voice.
"This food smells cheap."
From the right came another.
"I disagree. It smells magnificent."
A third voice shouted from inside the first bag.
"Something is crushing me!"
Yaoyao looked down.
"You are three packets of cat treats, not actual cats."
A silence followed.
Then the first voice said, "Oh."
Mochi floated beside her shoulder.
"You purchased six varieties."
"I didn't know what the cats at the orphanage would like."
"You also bought birdseed."
"The sparrows called me stingy."
"And your response was to reward them?"
"I'm trying to establish peaceful relations."
Mochi examined the contents of the bags.
Cat food.
Dog food.
Birdseed.
Fresh fruit.
Milk.
Children's storybooks.
Colored pencils.
Two sets of educational building blocks.
A new blood-pressure monitor for Director Chen.
The total had come from Yaoyao's personal reward money rather than the black card.
That distinction mattered to her.
Mission spending felt like a responsibility.
This was a choice.
She had spent almost three thousand yuan.
Two days ago, the amount would have terrified her.
Today, it still made her uncomfortable, but not enough to stop her.
Mochi watched her expression.
"You checked the receipt four times."
"I checked it twice."
"Then you calculated the per-child cost in your head."
"That happened automatically."
"You also compared the market's fruit prices with three online stores."
"That is sensible."
"You stood in front of the milk for eleven minutes."
"There were different nutritional options."
"There were two."
"One had more protein."
Mochi folded his tiny arms.
"You are making progress."
"That did not sound like praise."
"It was cautious optimism."
Yaoyao adjusted the bags and headed toward the bus stop.
Sunrise Children's Home stood in the southern district of Cloud City, far from the shining commercial center. The neighborhood was older, with narrow streets, low apartment buildings, and family-owned shops that had remained unchanged for decades.
The journey required one subway transfer and a twenty-minute bus ride.
Yaoyao could have called a car.
She considered it.
Then calculated the price.
Then took the bus.
Mochi made no comment.
His silence was louder than criticism.
"Public transportation is environmentally responsible," she said.
"I did not ask."
"You were thinking it."
"I was thinking that your financial habits possess remarkable survival strength."
"That sounds better."
"It was not intended to."
The bus turned onto a familiar street.
A faded blue sign appeared behind a row of gingko trees.
Sunrise Children's Home
Yaoyao's expression softened.
The building was three stories tall, with pale yellow walls and white window frames. A painted sun stretched across the front gate, its rays made from the handprints of children who had lived there over the years.
Some handprints belonged to children who had been adopted.
Some belonged to those who had aged out.
Some belonged to Yaoyao's childhood friends.
Near the bottom of the sun was a small green handprint with crooked fingers.
Her own.
She had been five when Director Chen helped her press her painted palm against the wall.
Yaoyao still remembered asking whether the sun would keep her hand forever.
Director Chen had smiled and said, "As long as this home stands."
At the time, Yaoyao had believed that meant forever.
The front gate opened before she reached it.
A boy of about nine ran outside.
"Sister Yaoyao!"
"Xiao Hu!"
He threw himself at her waist.
Yaoyao shifted the shopping bags just in time to keep them from falling.
"You came!"
"I said I would."
"You also said last week, but you had to work."
"That's why I brought a peace offering."
The boy peeked into the bags.
His eyes widened.
"Milk!"
Mochi floated closer to him.
"The child values dairy products."
"The good kind is expensive," Xiao Hu announced.
Yaoyao looked at him.
"You can't hear Mochi, can you?"
Xiao Hu blinked.
"Who is Mochi?"
"No one."
Mochi gasped.
"I have been erased."
Director Chen appeared in the doorway.
She was a woman in her late fifties with gentle eyes and silver beginning to show in her hair. She wore a gray cardigan over a simple blouse and carried a folder beneath one arm.
"Yaoyao."
The warmth in her voice made something inside Yaoyao loosen.
"Director Chen."
"You didn't need to bring so much."
"I didn't bring much."
Director Chen looked at both overloaded bags.
"Your definition has changed."
"She has recently begun a rehabilitation program," Mochi said.
Yaoyao ignored him and stepped forward to hug the woman.
Director Chen held her tightly.
"You've lost weight."
"I haven't."
"Your face is thinner."
"That is not scientifically measurable."
"Sit down and eat before you leave."
"I ate breakfast."
"What?"
"Dumplings."
"How many?"
Yaoyao hesitated.
Director Chen narrowed her eyes.
"Four."
"Half a meal."
Mochi nodded solemnly.
"I approve of this woman."
Yaoyao sighed.
Everyone in her life had apparently formed an alliance against her eating habits.
Inside, the children gathered around her.
Some were toddlers who barely remembered her from previous visits.
Others were older and treated her like a beloved sister returning from a distant journey, even though she visited nearly every week.
They carried the bags into the common room.
The moment Yaoyao opened the art supplies, excited voices filled the space.
"Colored pencils!"
"There are so many!"
"Can I use the blue?"
"I want purple!"
"The purple belongs to everyone," Yaoyao reminded them.
A little girl hugged the box of storybooks.
"Will you read this one?"
"After lunch."
"Two stories?"
"One."
"Three?"
"Your negotiation strategy needs work."
The girl considered this.
"Two and a half."
Mochi floated upside down above her.
"She has potential."
Yaoyao smiled.
"Two."
The child accepted immediately.
Xiao Hu held up one of the building sets.
"Sister Yaoyao, can we build a bank?"
"Why a bank?"
"So we can put money inside."
"What money?"
He pulled three bottle caps from his pocket.
"My savings."
Mochi whispered, "A promising beginning."
Director Chen watched from the doorway.
"You seem different."
Yaoyao looked up.
"Different?"
"Lighter."
The word caught her off guard.
"Work has been busy."
"That is not what I meant."
Director Chen studied her face for another moment, then smiled.
"Whatever happened, I hope it was good."
Yaoyao thought of a black card, a talking system, three hundred thousand yuan, and a cat calling her useless.
"It was unusual."
"That sounds like a story."
"One day."
She was not ready to explain Mochi.
She was not certain any explanation would sound sane.
Director Chen did not press.
She never did.
That patience had shaped Yaoyao's childhood more than she realized.
⸻
After helping in the kitchen, Yaoyao carried bowls of vegetables and noodles into the dining room.
The children ate at long tables beneath paper decorations left over from a spring festival.
At one end, two toddlers argued over a boiled egg.
At the other, Xiao Hu was attempting to convince everyone that bottle caps would become valuable in the future.
"They are limited," he explained.
"So are rocks," another boy said.
"Not special rocks."
"Your bottle caps aren't special."
"They're mine."
Mochi hovered between them.
"I predict a hostile takeover."
Yaoyao set down a plate.
"No financial warfare during lunch."
The children looked confused.
Director Chen laughed from the kitchen.
After the meal, Yaoyao read two stories.
Then, despite intense negotiations, she refused to read a third.
She helped with homework, repaired a broken toy truck, and listened to a teenage girl worry about an upcoming school interview.
By midafternoon, the younger children had gone outside.
Yaoyao followed them into the courtyard.
A large gingko tree stood near the back wall. Beneath it were a wooden bench, a rusted climbing frame, and several patched garden beds.
The animals noticed her immediately.
A gray pigeon landed on the roof.
"The food woman has arrived."
A second pigeon joined it.
"She brought seeds."
"How do you know?"
"I saw the bag."
"You see everything."
"Yes."
Near the kitchen door, an old yellow dog raised his head.
His name was Dahuang.
He had lived at Sunrise Children's Home for almost twelve years, sleeping beside the gate and following Director Chen during her evening rounds.
His muzzle was nearly white now.
He stared at Yaoyao.
"You smell different."
She crouched beside him.
"How?"
Dahuang's ears lifted.
"You speak."
Yaoyao smiled.
"I can now."
The dog stood slowly and sniffed her sleeve.
"You smell like rain, metal, bird, fear, and something sweet."
Mochi floated closer.
"The sweet scent is likely my spiritual signature."
Dahuang looked directly at him.
"Round ghost."
Mochi's expression hardened.
"I am not a ghost."
Dahuang barked once.
The children turned.
"Dahuang likes Sister Yaoyao!"
"He always likes her!"
Yaoyao lowered her voice.
"You can see Mochi?"
"Round ghost is bright."
Mochi floated to the dog's eye level.
"I am an advanced interdimensional intelligence."
Dahuang sat down.
"Round ghost talks too much."
Yaoyao covered her mouth.
Mochi looked deeply offended.
Dahuang rested his head on her knee.
"You were small."
"I know."
"You cried at night."
Yaoyao's smile faded slightly.
"You remember that?"
"Yes."
"I didn't know you were here that long."
"Another dog was here first."
"Old Hei?"
Dahuang wagged his tail once.
"Black dog. Good nose. Bad temper."
Yaoyao remembered him.
Old Hei had been a large black dog with one torn ear. He died when she was eleven.
She had spent an entire week sleeping badly afterward.
"He used to sit outside the nursery," she said.
"He guarded you."
Her fingers paused against Dahuang's fur.
"Me?"
"Many babies. But you cried differently."
"How?"
Dahuang looked toward the third-floor windows.
"Like waiting."
The simple words struck deeper than she expected.
Yaoyao looked down.
"What did Old Hei know about me?"
"Smells. Footsteps. Night."
Her heart began beating faster.
Animals remembered through senses humans often ignored.
Mochi became still beside her.
"Ask carefully," he said.
Yaoyao stroked Dahuang's head.
"Did Old Hei ever tell you about the night I arrived?"
The dog's tail stopped moving.
For several moments, he said nothing.
Then he looked toward the back wall.
"Not gate."
Yaoyao frowned.
"What?"
"You did not come through front gate."
Her breath caught.
According to the story she had heard all her life, she had been found outside the main entrance before dawn.
"Where did I come from?"
Dahuang rose.
His old joints moved stiffly as he walked across the courtyard.
Yaoyao followed.
He stopped near a narrow service entrance behind the kitchen.
The door was rarely used now.
Beyond it ran a small alley leading toward the old road.
"Here," Dahuang said.
Mochi's eyes began to glow faintly.
Yaoyao touched the rusted handle.
"Are you sure?"
"Black dog smelled car. Woman. Blood. Flowers."
Her fingers tightened.
"A woman brought me?"
"Woman carried bundle."
"What did she look like?"
"Dogs do not remember faces like humans."
"What do you remember?"
Dahuang sat down, thinking.
"Fast heart. Hurt foot. Wet hair. Expensive flowers."
"Expensive flowers?"
"Smell from clothes. White flowers. Bitter."
Mochi opened an analytical screen.
"Possibly a high-end floral perfume."
Yaoyao's mouth went dry.
"Was she my mother?"
Dahuang whined softly.
"Do not know."
"Did she leave immediately?"
"No."
The courtyard sounds faded around Yaoyao.
Children laughed near the climbing frame.
A ball bounced against the wall.
A pigeon complained about the lack of seeds.
But she heard only the dog.
"What happened?"
"Woman knocked."
"On the service door?"
"Yes."
"Who answered?"
"Old woman."
"Director Chen?"
Dahuang sneezed.
"Not same smell. Older. Medicine smell."
Yaoyao searched her memory.
Before Director Chen became head of Sunrise Children's Home, the previous director had been an elderly woman named Madam Wu.
She died when Yaoyao was six.
"Madam Wu," Yaoyao whispered.
Dahuang's tail moved once.
"Medicine woman took bundle."
"And the woman who brought me?"
"She held shiny green thing."
Yaoyao's hand rose instinctively to her collar.
The jade pendant rested beneath her blouse.
"She gave Madam Wu the pendant?"
"Green thing was on bundle."
"Did they speak?"
"Humans speak too much. Black dog remembered one sound."
"What sound?"
Dahuang looked at her.
"Ye."
Mochi turned sharply.
Yaoyao stopped breathing.
"Ye?"
"Woman said it twice."
It could have been anything.
A word.
A name.
A sound from a sentence.
But in Cloud City, Ye was also a surname.
A powerful one.
The Ye family.
One of the five great families.
Yaoyao immediately rejected the thought.
There were thousands of people with the surname Ye.
The woman might not have said a surname at all.
Her mind was simply reaching for the most dramatic possibility because Mochi had altered the scale of her imagination.
"Anything else?" she asked.
Dahuang lowered his head.
"Black dog followed car."
"What car?"
"Dark. Quiet. Smelled new."
"Did he see where it went?"
"He returned when sun came."
"And?"
"Angry."
"Why?"
"Car changed. Smell ended near large road."
Someone had switched vehicles.
Or Dahuang's memory had blurred over twelve years of hearing Old Hei's story.
Yaoyao closed her eyes.
"Why didn't anyone tell me?"
Mochi answered first.
"Because no human may have known."
Dahuang nudged her hand.
"Black dog told dogs."
Director Chen had always said Yaoyao was found outside before dawn.
Perhaps Madam Wu had simplified the truth.
Perhaps she had promised the woman secrecy.
Perhaps the old service entrance had later become confused with the main gate.
Or perhaps someone had deliberately altered the story.
Mochi looked toward the building.
"The pendant may contain more information than you realize."
Yaoyao touched it again.
The jade had always felt smooth and cool.
She had examined it hundreds of times.
There was no writing on the front.
Only a carved cloud pattern surrounding a small flower.
"Can you identify it?"
"I can analyze material, age, carving style, and energy traces."
"Why didn't you do that before?"
"You did not ask."
She stared at him.
Mochi blinked innocently.
"Analyze it."
"Host authorization accepted."
Golden light passed over the pendant beneath her blouse.
A screen appeared.
Object Analysis
Material: High-grade imperial green jade
Estimated age: 70–90 years
Carving technique: Hand-finished, custom commissioned
Pattern: Auspicious cloud and night-blooming cereus
Hidden structure detected
Yaoyao's pulse jumped.
"Hidden structure?"
Mochi flew closer.
"The pendant contains an internal mechanical seam."
"It opens?"
"Possibly."
She removed the chain carefully.
The pendant was oval, no larger than two fingers, and pale green near the edges with a deeper emerald center.
Under ordinary light, the carved flower looked decorative.
Under Mochi's golden glow, one petal appeared slightly raised.
Yaoyao pressed it.
Nothing happened.
"Rotate the crescent-shaped cloud," Mochi instructed.
She placed her nail against the carving and turned it.
A soft click sounded.
The pendant separated along an invisible seam.
Yaoyao stared.
Inside was a tiny compartment.
A folded piece of material lay within it.
Not paper.
Silk.
The fabric had yellowed with age.
Her fingers trembled as she unfolded it.
There were only four characters written in dark ink.
Yao Yao, stay alive.
Her vision blurred.
The courtyard disappeared.
For twenty-one years, the jade pendant had been the only object left with her.
She had worn it through childhood illnesses, school exams, lonely birthdays, and the day she left the orphanage for university.
She had believed it contained no message.
But one had been hidden inside all along.
Not I love you.
Not forgive me.
Not I will return.
Stay alive.
The words did not sound like abandonment.
They sounded like fear.
Mochi's voice became gentle.
"The repeated name may explain why Madam Wu named you Yaoyao."
Yaoyao looked at the silk.
"She said she chose it because I reached for a bell."
"That may also be true."
"Or it was a way to preserve the name without revealing the message."
Mochi did not answer.
Dahuang leaned against her leg.
"Sad?"
"A little."
"Do not be sad."
"I'll try."
"Black dog said woman cried."
Yaoyao looked down sharply.
"The woman cried?"
"Yes."
"Why didn't you say that before?"
"You did not ask."
She looked at Mochi.
Mochi looked at Dahuang.
Dahuang scratched behind one ear.
For the first time that day, Yaoyao laughed.
It came out unsteady.
"Apparently everyone around me requires very specific questions."
"That is a useful investigative lesson," Mochi said.
She carefully refolded the silk.
A shadow fell across the courtyard.
Director Chen stood a few steps away.
Her eyes were fixed on the open pendant.
"Yaoyao."
Yaoyao rose.
"Director Chen."
The older woman's face had gone pale.
"You opened it."
"You knew?"
Director Chen looked toward the children.
"Come inside."
Her tone was soft.
But there was something beneath it Yaoyao had never heard before.
Fear.
⸻
Director Chen led her to the small administrative office on the second floor.
The room had not changed much since Yaoyao's childhood.
Metal filing cabinets lined one wall.
A kettle sat on a wooden side table.
Photographs of former residents covered a corkboard near the window.
Yaoyao appeared in several of them.
At six, missing one front tooth.
At twelve, holding a school certificate.
At eighteen, wearing her university admission sash while Director Chen cried beside her.
Director Chen closed the door.
Mochi floated near the ceiling.
Dahuang remained outside.
Yaoyao placed the open pendant on the desk.
"Did you know there was a message inside?"
"No."
"But you knew it opened."
Director Chen sat slowly.
"I suspected."
"Why didn't you tell me?"
"I promised Madam Wu I would not interfere unless the pendant opened on its own or you discovered the truth yourself."
Yaoyao's chest tightened.
"Madam Wu knew?"
"Yes."
"Who brought me here?"
Director Chen looked at the silk.
"I don't know her name."
"Dahuang says a woman came through the service entrance."
The older woman's eyes widened.
"You can understand Dahuang?"
Yaoyao realized her mistake.
Mochi covered his face with both tiny hands.
"Operational secrecy has failed."
Yaoyao took a breath.
"It's complicated."
Director Chen studied her for a long moment.
Then, to Yaoyao's surprise, she nodded.
"Life becomes more complicated the older I get. Continue."
"You believe me?"
"I have worked with children for thirty-two years. A talking dog would not be the strangest thing I've encountered."
Mochi whispered, "I respect her greatly."
Yaoyao sat across from the desk.
"What did Madam Wu tell you?"
Director Chen folded her hands.
"She told me that you arrived shortly before four in the morning. A young woman knocked on the service door because she did not want to be seen from the street."
"Was she injured?"
"She had blood on one sleeve, but Madam Wu did not know whether it was hers."
Yaoyao's fingers turned cold.
"She begged Madam Wu to keep you safe."
"Did she say why?"
"Only that someone might come looking."
"Who?"
"She refused to say."
"Did anyone come?"
Director Chen hesitated.
The hesitation was enough.
"Someone did."
"Three days later."
Yaoyao sat straighter.
"A man came to the orphanage. Expensive suit. Formal manner. He asked whether an infant girl had recently been admitted."
"What did Madam Wu say?"
"That no child matching his description had arrived."
"Why would she lie?"
"Because the woman had warned her."
"Did the man give a name?"
"No."
"What did he look like?"
"I never saw him. Madam Wu described him years later."
Director Chen opened the bottom drawer of her desk and removed a thin brown envelope.
The paper was worn at the edges.
"I was supposed to give this to you only if the pendant opened."
Yaoyao stared.
"You kept this for twenty-one years?"
"Madam Wu gave it to me before she died."
Director Chen slid the envelope across the desk.
Yaoyao opened it carefully.
Inside was a faded photograph.
A dark sedan stood near a stone wall.
The image was blurry, apparently taken from a window.
Beside the car stood a man in a black coat.
His face was turned away.
On the rear door of the sedan was a small silver emblem.
A crescent moon encircling a flower.
The same design carved into Yaoyao's pendant.
Mochi scanned the photograph.
"Image quality is low, but the emblem appears custom made."
Yaoyao turned the photograph over.
Madam Wu had written a date.
Three days after Yaoyao's arrival.
Beneath it were two words.
Asked for her.
Her throat tightened.
"Did Madam Wu take this?"
"Yes. She said she was frightened after the man returned a second time."
"He came twice?"
"The second time, he offered money."
"How much?"
"Enough to support the orphanage for several years."
"And Madam Wu still refused?"
Director Chen smiled sadly.
"She had many flaws, but she would never sell a child."
Yaoyao looked at the photograph again.
"Did he threaten her?"
"Not directly."
"What does that mean?"
"He said hiding what did not belong to her could bring consequences."
Mochi's round face lost all humor.
"That is a threat."
"Yes," Director Chen said.
Yaoyao felt strangely calm.
Perhaps the truth was too large to absorb all at once.
"Why did he stop coming?"
"We moved you."
Her head snapped up.
"What?"
"For almost six months, you did not stay at Sunrise Children's Home."
"I've never heard this."
"You were placed with a retired nurse outside the city. Officially, you were receiving treatment for respiratory problems."
"Was I sick?"
"A little. Not enough to require relocation."
"So Madam Wu hid me."
"Yes."
"Did the man ever return?"
"Not after that."
The office seemed too small.
Yaoyao stood and walked toward the window.
Below, the children played beneath the gingko tree.
Their laughter drifted upward.
For years, she had thought she had been left because no one wanted her.
Now she knew someone had risked coming to the orphanage in the middle of the night.
Someone had written stay alive.
Someone else had searched for her and offered money.
There had been fear.
Secrecy.
Threats.
And a symbol connecting all of it.
"What happened to the woman?" Yaoyao asked.
"We don't know."
"Did Madam Wu ever try to find her?"
"She believed searching might expose you."
"Did she report any of this?"
"No."
Yaoyao turned.
"Why?"
"Because the man who came carried a card from a powerful family office."
Her heartbeat slowed.
"Which family?"
Director Chen looked at the pendant.
"The Ye family."
Silence filled the room.
Even Mochi did not speak.
Outside, a child shouted with laughter.
A chair scraped across the floor in another office.
Somewhere below, Dahuang barked at a pigeon.
The ordinary sounds continued as Yaoyao's understanding of her life shifted beneath her feet.
"The Ye family," she repeated.
"One of the five great families?"
"Yes."
"Did Madam Wu keep the card?"
"No. She burned it."
"Then how can you be certain?"
"I saw it before she did."
Director Chen's voice was quiet but steady.
"It carried the Ye family crest and the name of their private administrative office."
Yaoyao looked back at the photograph.
The symbol on the car was not the public Ye family crest.
The pendant's emblem was different.
Perhaps personal.
Perhaps belonging to one branch of the family.
"Why tell me now?"
"Because you opened the pendant."
"That was the condition?"
"Yes."
"And because I'm an adult?"
"That too."
Director Chen stood and came around the desk.
"I wanted to protect you."
"I know."
"I was afraid the truth would pull you into a world that had already endangered you once."
Yaoyao looked at her.
"Do you think the Ye family wanted to hurt me?"
"I don't know."
"Do you think they were trying to find me?"
"I don't know."
"Do you think the woman who brought me here was a Ye?"
"I don't know."
Every answer opened more questions.
But Yaoyao did not blame Director Chen.
She had spent decades protecting children with limited money, limited staff, and no powerful name.
She had done what she believed was safest.
Yaoyao reached out and held her hand.
"Thank you."
Director Chen's eyes filled with tears.
"You're not angry?"
"I wish you had told me sooner."
The older woman's fingers tightened.
"But I understand why you didn't."
"You always try to understand everyone."
"Not always."
"Too often."
Mochi nodded.
"Accurate."
Yaoyao glanced at him.
Director Chen followed her gaze.
"Is the invisible person agreeing with me?"
"He's not a person."
Mochi gasped again.
"I have been demoted."
"He's a system."
Director Chen accepted this with remarkable calm.
"What kind of system?"
"A spending system."
The older woman blinked.
"That explains the shopping bags."
"Not entirely."
Director Chen sat again.
"Are you in danger?"
Yaoyao considered the question.
"I don't think so."
Mochi opened a private warning screen.
Insufficient data to confirm.
She ignored it.
"For now, I'm only going to investigate."
"Carefully."
"Yes."
"Promise me."
"I promise."
Director Chen looked toward the pendant.
"Whatever you discover, remember this place is still your home."
Yaoyao's chest tightened.
She smiled.
"I know."
It was true.
Sunrise Children's Home had never been hers in the legal sense.
She had shared its rooms, toys, attention, and food with dozens of others.
But love had lived there.
Protection had lived there.
People had chosen her there.
Perhaps home was not always a front door owned by one person.
Perhaps sometimes it was an old woman keeping a secret for twenty-one years.
A director saving a faded photograph.
A dog remembering a crying baby.
A group of children waiting for stories.
The thought did not erase her dream of owning a place of her own.
It changed what she believed ownership could prove.
⸻
Before leaving, Yaoyao copied the photograph with her phone.
Director Chen gave her the original envelope, saying it had always been intended for her.
She kept the silk message inside the pendant and locked the hidden compartment again.
In the courtyard, Dahuang waited beside the gate.
Yaoyao crouched and hugged him.
"Thank you."
"Bring meat next time."
"You destroyed the emotional moment."
"Meat restores it."
Mochi nodded.
"He is practical."
The pigeons descended as Yaoyao opened the birdseed.
Within seconds, the courtyard became chaos.
"Mine!"
"Move!"
"The large one is cheating!"
"Your foot is on my seed!"
Several children ran over, laughing.
Yaoyao scattered the remaining seed across the ground.
A black-and-white cat appeared on top of the back wall.
It was thin, elderly, and missing the tip of one ear.
Unlike the other animals, it did not rush toward the food.
It stared at Yaoyao's jade pendant.
Then it spoke.
"I remember that smell."
Yaoyao froze.
The cat jumped down from the wall.
Dahuang growled softly.
"Old thief."
"Slow dog."
The cat approached Yaoyao.
"You wore the green stone when you were small."
"Yes."
The cat sniffed the air.
"I smelled it before."
"Here?"
"No."
Her heart accelerated again.
"Where?"
The cat turned toward the eastern road.
"Large house. White walls. Many flowers."
Mochi's eyes lit up.
"How long ago?"
The cat sat and began washing one paw.
"Many winters."
"Can you show us?"
"No."
"Why?"
"I am old."
Yaoyao opened a packet of premium cat treats.
The cat stopped washing.
"I may remember the road."
Mochi stared at her.
"Host, you have discovered bribery."
"It's not bribery."
The cat stepped closer.
"It is bribery."
Yaoyao gave it one treat.
"Where is the house?"
"North. Beyond loud road. Near water that does not move."
"A lake?"
"Perhaps."
"Do you remember the people?"
"Woman with flower smell."
The same description Dahuang had given.
White flowers.
Bitter perfume.
Yaoyao's fingers tightened around the packet.
"What did she look like?"
"Sad."
"Did she live there?"
The cat's tail flicked.
"She stood behind wall. Held green stone. Cried."
"Was it this pendant?"
"Same smell. Same flower."
Mochi scanned the cat's behavior.
"He appears confident."
"Do you remember anything else?" Yaoyao asked.
The cat looked at the treat bag.
She gave it another.
"There was a boy."
"What boy?"
"Older kitten. Human. Angry voice."
"A child?"
"Yes."
"What did he say?"
The cat's ears moved back.
"Do not take her."
Yaoyao stopped.
"Do not take whom?"
The cat licked its lips.
"Do not know."
"Was he speaking to the woman?"
"Yes."
"What happened after that?"
"Door closed. Car left. Dog chased me."
The memory was fragmented.
But the pieces were beginning to form a picture.
A wealthy residence.
A woman with white-flower perfume.
A matching pendant.
A boy begging someone not to take her.
Then, years later, a frightened woman bringing an infant to Sunrise Children's Home.
There was no proof the events were directly connected.
But Yaoyao no longer believed they were random.
"Could you find the house again?" she asked.
The cat considered.
"With a car."
"You ride in cars?"
"I have standards."
Mochi whispered, "He was eating from a trash bin when we arrived."
The cat's eyes narrowed.
"Round ghost speaks badly of me."
"You can see him too?"
"Unfortunately."
Mochi turned away.
Yaoyao smiled despite everything.
"What is your name?"
"Humans called me General."
Dahuang barked.
"Thief."
General swatted toward him without making contact.
"Slow dog."
Yaoyao gave both of them treats before the argument escalated.
General swallowed his portion.
"Tomorrow."
"What happens tomorrow?"
"I show road."
Her pulse quickened.
"You'll take me to the house?"
"I will attempt."
"Why help me?"
The cat sat beneath the sunlight.
"Long ago, crying woman fed me fish."
Its voice became quieter.
"She was kind."
Yaoyao looked at the pendant.
"Do you think she was the same woman who brought me here?"
General's green eyes rested on her face.
"Same sadness."
It was not proof.
But it was enough to begin.
⸻
On the bus ride home, Yaoyao opened her laptop and organized everything she knew.
Known facts:
She arrived at Sunrise Children's Home through the service entrance.
A woman brought her before dawn.
The woman may have been injured.
She smelled of a distinctive white-flower perfume.
She left a custom jade pendant containing the message Yao Yao, stay alive.
The woman said the sound "Ye."
Three days later, a man connected to the Ye family searched for an infant girl.
He offered money and issued an indirect threat.
A vehicle linked to the search carried the same private symbol as the pendant.
Years earlier, General saw a woman with a matching jade piece at a large northern residence near still water.
A boy had shouted, "Do not take her."
Mochi floated above the laptop.
"You are avoiding conclusions."
"Because we don't have enough evidence."
"Good."
"Did you expect me to assume I'm the Ye family's missing daughter?"
"It is one possibility."
"Among many."
"Yes."
Yaoyao looked out the window.
Cloud City passed in a blur of old buildings, trees, and afternoon traffic.
The Ye family was famous.
Ye Group controlled hotels, luxury retail, private healthcare investments, and several financial companies.
Their family appeared in business magazines and charity reports.
Their adopted daughter, Ye Mingyue, was especially visible at social events.
Yaoyao knew little beyond what appeared in the news.
She had never had a reason to care.
Mochi opened a search panel.
"Public records may provide an initial family timeline."
Yaoyao typed the Ye family name.
Articles appeared.
Chairman Ye Guowei.
Madam Ye Lin Shuqin.
Their sons:
Ye Chengzhou.
Ye Yichen.
Ye Jing'an.
And their daughter:
Ye Mingyue.
Adopted at the age of one following a family tragedy.
Yaoyao's finger stopped on the screen.
"What tragedy?"
The article did not specify.
Another profile described Mingyue as the cherished pearl of the Ye family.
Graceful.
Kind.
Talented in music.
Active in charity.
The photographs showed a beautiful young woman in an ivory dress, smiling beside Madam Ye at a gala.
She looked like someone who had never been told she did not belong.
Yaoyao felt no resentment.
Only distance.
Mochi examined the article.
"Her adoption occurred approximately twenty years ago."
"Near the time I arrived at the orphanage."
"Yes."
"That could be coincidence."
"Yes."
She searched older archives.
Most family articles had been carefully polished.
There were references to Madam Ye withdrawing from public life for several months twenty-one years earlier.
One article claimed illness.
Another mentioned grief.
No details.
Then Yaoyao found a short society notice preserved in a scanned newspaper archive.
Ye family cancels heir celebration following private emergency.
The notice was dated three weeks before Yaoyao arrived at Sunrise Children's Home.
Her heartbeat quickened.
"What heir celebration?"
Mochi scanned the incomplete article.
"The page is damaged. No additional details are visible."
"A birth celebration?"
"Possibly."
"An engagement?"
"Less likely, given the wording."
Yaoyao leaned back.
The evidence remained circumstantial.
But the timeline was no longer easy to dismiss.
Her phone rang.
Professor Huang.
She answered.
"Hello, Professor."
"Yaoyao, have you reviewed the eastern riverfront filings?"
"I started."
"Good. I'm sending you an invitation."
"To what?"
"A property-analysis workshop on Monday evening. Several developers and valuation specialists will attend."
"Is Lu Group involved?"
There was a pause.
"You researched quickly."
"They own most of the surrounding parcels."
"They do."
Yaoyao looked at her notes about the Ye family.
Two mysteries were opening at once.
One connected to her birth.
The other to a piece of land worth millions.
Her old life would have told her both were beyond her.
Too powerful.
Too expensive.
Too dangerous.
But Mochi had already taught her one thing.
Scale changed when fear stopped making every decision.
"I'll attend," she said.
"Good. Bring your analysis."
The call ended.
A system chime followed.
Weekend Opportunity Detected
No mandatory mission issued.
Optional objective: Investigate one hidden truth and one undervalued asset.
Potential reward: Unknown
Yaoyao looked at Mochi.
"You said weekends were rest days."
"They are."
"This looks like work."
"It is optional."
"Is there a penalty for refusing?"
"No."
"A reward for accepting?"
"Possibly."
"That is not rest."
"It is enriched leisure."
She closed the laptop.
"Tomorrow, we follow General."
"And the riverfront research?"
"Tonight."
Mochi smiled.
"You are becoming ambitious."
Yaoyao looked down at the pendant in her hand.
"No."
Outside the bus window, the distant towers of Cloud City rose against the evening sky.
The headquarters of the Ye family's businesses stood somewhere among them.
So did Lu Group.
Two powerful families.
Two paths.
One tied to the life that had abandoned her.
The other tied to the future she might build.
"I'm becoming curious."
Mochi's smile deepened.
"Curiosity is often where ambition begins."
Far north of the city center, beyond a quiet lake, an old estate stood behind white stone walls.
Night-blooming cereus vines climbed along the garden.
Inside the main residence, Madam Ye opened a carved wooden box she had not touched in years.
The box contained a single jade ornament.
A crescent cloud surrounding a flower.
Only half of a matched pair.
Her fingers trembled as she lifted it.
For reasons she could not explain, the old scar beneath her ribs had begun aching again that afternoon.
Behind her, Ye Mingyue stood silently in the doorway.
She wore a soft white dress and held a tray of tea.
Her expression was gentle.
Her eyes were not.
"Mother," she said quietly, "why are you looking at that again?"
Madam Ye closed the box at once.
"It's nothing."
Mingyue smiled and entered the room.
"Of course."
She placed the tea on the table, then rested one hand affectionately on Madam Ye's shoulder.
But as she looked at the locked wooden box, her nails pressed slowly into her palm.
Some things were supposed to remain buried.
And Ye Mingyue had spent twenty years making certain they did.