Chapter 2: Rebirth

Mo Yu’s head throbbed with pain, as if a steel rod had pierced straight through her skull. The sensation was excruciatingly clear—a kind of agony that made death seem preferable, like knowing you’ve swallowed a deadly poison that will destroy you in five steps, yet still being forced to walk forward, powerless to stop yourself, every stride more torturous than the last. Worse than death itself, pain beyond endurance.

Hadn’t she died? She remembered it all too clearly—her trusted friend, the one she had fought and survived with, had personally delivered her into the jaws of that research institute, a place that devoured people whole and spat out nothing but bones, all because of jealousy over her beauty. How absurd, how laughable! Her abilities, while not the strongest in the base, far outstripped that so-called friend’s. What did it matter if she’d made it into the base? What did it matter if she’d found herself a powerful backer? In the end, it all led to ruin—a hidden mistress, a pawn to be discarded. What a cruel viper that woman was, and how foolish Mo Yu had been to mistake her for something pure and innocent. The woman was laughable, but Mo Yu was even more so.

A fresh wave of pain crashed through her head.

“Doctor, doctor! What’s wrong with my sister?” An anxious, childish voice broke into her awareness.

“Don’t worry, little one, your sister will be fine. Be good now, don’t make a fuss. She needs rest.” The doctor’s voice was gentle, warm as sunshine.

“Chichi, come to mommy and daddy. Don’t disturb your sister,” a woman’s voice called, laden with exhaustion and tender concern.

That voice—it was so familiar, achingly familiar!

Mo Yu’s body stiffened for a moment. Driven by a surge of urgent emotion, she forced her gritty eyes open.

The first thing she saw was four blurred figures against a field of bright light.

The doctor put away his small flashlight and turned to the middle-aged couple. “She seems out of danger, but I recommend she stay under observation for a few days.”

“Of course, of course. Thank you so much.” The man, stately and dignified in his designer suit, now bowed his head with gratitude to a young, unknown doctor.

Lying in the hospital bed, Mo Yu was utterly bewildered. She stared in a daze at the woman and child beside her bed, her gaze full of longing, drinking them in greedily, not daring to blink.

The woman, seeing her daughter’s blank expression, burst into tears. “Yu’er, that rascal Lin got a scolding from your grandfather. Don’t be angry, talk to mama, please, don’t frighten me like this!” The little boy joined her, crying, “Sister, are you alright? Sister, look at Chichi!”

After the man escorted the doctor out, he returned to find his wife and son in tears at his daughter’s bedside, while his daughter sat there stunned.

“Yu’er.” The man gently gathered his wife and son into an embrace, his eyes full of pain as he looked upon Mo Yu.

Finally, Mo Yu came to her senses. She glanced around at the familiar scene, then raised her hands—unscarred, so unlike those battered by the apocalypse—and understood: she had been reborn.

With effort, she opened her mouth and called out, “Dad, Mom, Chichi.” Her voice was hoarse, thick with grievance.

Her mother’s tears, barely checked, flowed anew.

“Zilan, the child is alright,” the man soothed his wife as he tucked the covers around Mo Yu. Chichi, meanwhile, kicked off his shoes and clambered into bed, nestling into Mo Yu’s arms. She couldn’t help but hug her little brother close.

Feeling her embrace, Chichi beamed with delight and clung to her even tighter.

Mo Yu saw the worry, love, and faint anger in her parents’ eyes—yes, anger too. But she also noticed the shadows of exhaustion beneath their eyes, evidence that they’d stayed by her side this whole time. If she remembered right, she’d been unconscious for two days and a night. They must be utterly spent.

“Dad, Mom, you should rest. I’m fine now,” Mo Yu said, looking at her parents.

“No! You just woke up, I have to take care of you,” her mother refused instantly.

“Dad…”

“No, you can’t be left without someone to look after you!” Her father’s tone was even firmer.

“But there are nurses, aren’t there?” Mo Yu countered.

“It’s not the same.”

“But you haven’t rested in so long.” Her voice dropped, barely more than a murmur, yet clear enough to be heard.

Her parents looked at her in astonishment, but quickly their expressions softened with relief. Yet they were reluctant to leave—they cherished every moment with their daughter. Ever since Chichi was born, Mo Yu had grown distant, so now they wanted nothing more than to stay.

Mo Yu could guess what they were thinking. At last, she threw out a challenge: “If you don’t go, I won’t talk to you anymore.”

Mo Changfeng and Di Zilan were not offended. They understood their daughter was being stubborn and, after a moment’s thought, reluctantly agreed. They glanced at Chichi, who had already fallen asleep; the little boy, worried about his sister, hadn’t slept in two days and was now deeply slumbering.

They wanted to say something, but couldn’t bear to interrupt the siblings’ closeness.

Mo Yu caught the hesitation in their eyes. “Let Chichi sleep here with me. You two go get some rest.”

Relieved and happy, Mo Changfeng and Di Zilan finally left, leaving a nurse to watch over Mo Yu.

As the nurse tidied the room, Mo Yu gazed around, memories of the past and thoughts of the future swirling in her mind.

Content, Chichi rolled over, burying his small, plump body deep into Mo Yu’s embrace.

That night, they both slept peacefully, their dreams sweet and undisturbed.