Chapter 32

“Because I have double standards.”

Yue Yin leaned back lazily, a confident smile on her face, delivering a life lesson to young Shen Xiaodi.

Shen Xiaodi was stunned. How could anyone admit to having double standards so boldly?

But thanks to Yue Yin’s shamelessness, his mind was pulled away from the distressing thoughts about Shen Hao Ping’s condition. He puffed his cheeks, clearly unconvinced. After a moment, he huffed, “You’re not a bad person—you’re my sister.”

Yue Yin scratched her chin thoughtfully and nodded in agreement. “You know, you’ve got a point there.”

After all, she wasn’t exactly human, so could she really be considered a “bad person”?

Shen Xiaodi didn’t understand. He rushed over and hugged her, confusion in his voice. “Why?”

Why had their stable life been shattered? Why did family who had been laughing with them one moment suddenly vanish?

Yue Yin looked down at the child clinging to her, gently stroking his head. “Shen Xiaodi, do you remember what I told you?”

She was incredibly gentle; the moonlight by the window was as soft as water.

Shen Xiaodi looked up, eyes glistening with tears.

Yue Yin pointed to the moon outside, but her gaze remained fixed on the boy before her, firm and unblinking. “All debts must be repaid.”

Shen Xiaodi, a carefree elementary school student, instantly remembered Yue Yin’s words from two weeks ago.

He recalled how she had gently stroked his hair to comfort him then, too.

At that time, she was different from the big sister who usually squabbled with him over snacks or games. Her touch was warm, like the moonlight above, inviting calm and a quiet affection.

He had been sad that day, and Yue Yin had spoken to him, saying something like…

“But remember, Shen Xiaodi, all debts must be repaid.”

Yue Yin’s gentle gaze lingered on him, her lashes fluttering, her eyes curved in a soft smile. She said, “The Moon of a Thousand Faces carries the pain of the dead.”

In that moment, Shen Xiaodi vividly recalled her words from before, and they finally made sense.

He whispered, “You said ‘Yue Yin’ carries a lot of pain, and now that you’re here, you feel it too.”

Yue Yin smiled in satisfaction, brushing his cheek softly. “Exactly. Now, it’s time to repay those debts.”

She held Shen Xiaodi’s hand, repeating in a quiet voice, “Someone must pay for this, someone must bear her pain.”

Though he didn’t yet grasp the full meaning, Shen Xiaodi was struck by how beautiful this stranger-like sister before him looked.

In the moonlight, Yue Yin’s dark hair gleamed, her skin was porcelain-white, her features exquisite, like a goddess descended from above.

Her gaze was tender, her eyes filled with countless stars, carrying a godly kindness and compassion for humanity.

If Shen Xiaodi had been older, with more life experience, he would have recognized this moment as her divinity shining through.

But as a naive elementary student who only wanted answers for his summer homework, with barely passable literacy, he couldn’t understand such lofty concepts.

So, in his simplicity, he simply kept staring at her face.

In a daze, he wondered, had his sister always been this beautiful?

In his memory, Yue Yin was always lowering her head, evading everyone’s gaze after being rejected by her parents and ignored by others.

Working tirelessly to support herself, Yue Yin’s demeanor was worn, even her hair seemed dry and dull.

A strange feeling rose in Shen Xiaodi’s heart, and he gathered the courage to ask, “Are you really my sister?”

Yue Yin withdrew her hand from his head, surprised. “Of course I’m your sister.”

Standing up, she added with a smile, “Yue Yin will always be your sister.”

The truth didn’t matter anymore, as long as she was Yue Yin, she was his sister.

And, in a way, that wasn’t even wrong.

I am your sister, I am your mother; I am the ruler from the old days, the embodiment of severity, deception, and chaos; I am the guardian of monsters, the maker of suffering and despair.

I am a merciful yet cruel deity.

Yue Yin casually slid her hands into her pockets, glanced at her phone to see if her favorite anime had updated, and suddenly jumped up. “What?! Someone reported my Weibo account again, saying I’m promoting superstitious nonsense and scams!”

Last time, fatty Xiao had come up with a half-baked idea for Yue Yin to market herself online to promote the Moon Cult. Jiang Suliu then had his company’s PR team manage her social media.

They set up a lottery giveaway post with hundreds of thousands in prizes, and many influencers and wealthy heirs promoted her, making Yue Yin go viral overnight—until the Paranormal Incident Management Department took notice.

Though the account was later restored, they had to pause the lottery, as Captain Li pointed out that Yue Yin didn’t have a license to operate as a “certified entity,” preventing her from publicly discussing supernatural powers or beliefs.

From that moment on, Yue Yin’s online presence became infamous.

Tens of thousands of users had followed her account that night, hoping for Jiang Suliu’s lottery prize.

But with her account temporarily suspended, the giveaway was halted, leaving everyone disappointed.

Many netizens were already skeptical of Yue Yin’s so-called “Moon Cult,” and this incident only strengthened their conviction that she was a fraud.

A group of vigilant users, driven by the belief that no wrongdoer should go unpunished, began diligently reporting her Weibo account.

As a result, Yue Yin’s Weibo was getting suspended every few days—she’d just been reinstated recently, and now it was banned again.

“You even dared to report the great Thousand-Faced Moon. You better sleep with both eyes tonight!”

Clutching her chest in exaggerated pain, Yue Yin sighed heavily, “Wow, humans really are idiots.”

In hindsight, she regretted letting Captain Li and the others off easy. She should have just destroyed Earth while she had the chance.

Feeling disheartened, Yue Yin had no time to comfort Shen Xiaodi and said, “Xiaodi, go play on your own. I have things to deal with and will join you later.”

She planned to head back to her room and send ghostly curses to two of the keyboard warriors trolling her Weibo.

Luckily, her antics distracted Shen Xiaodi from his sadness.

He followed her to his room, then paused and asked, “Yue Yin, will Dad get better?”

Yue Yin scratched her head, looking lost. “Who knows, maybe?”

In truth, it was impossible—Shen Hao Ping had no chance of surviving.

Modern medicine might pull off miracles, but a god wouldn’t allow such miracles.

But a little white lie for a child was harmless. After all, kids were easily tricked.

As she turned to leave, Shen Xiaodi suddenly ran after her, calling out, “Yue Yin, you’re not a bad person.”

In their family, his older sister Shen Baozhu was always prioritized, while he was left on the sidelines. His father was preoccupied with business trips, his mother stayed by his sister’s side, only ever telling him to “be good.”

Meanwhile, his older sister was surrounded by friends and doting relatives, while he was barely noticed.

Ultimately, the one he became closest to was this second sister, whom he hadn’t even known long.

People often assume kids are oblivious, but they understand everything. They’re even more sensitive to family dynamics than adults.

For instance, the moment Shen Xiaodi first saw Yue Yin, he knew his second sister was an unfortunate soul with even lower standing in the family than him.

They clung to each other, bringing warmth to the vast, cold home.

Shen Xiaodi looked up at Yue Yin, saying in a muffled voice, “You’re the best sister in the world.”

Then he gave her a quick hug and added, “Yue Yin, even though you’re bad at studying, suck at games, have no manners, curse a lot, show off, brag, and troll people online… you’re still my favorite sister.”

Yue Yin blinked in confusion.

After he finished, Shen Xiaodi’s ears turned red as he quickly closed his door and hid under the covers.

Staring at the closed door, Yue Yin couldn’t help but shout, “Shen Xiaodi—wait, is that how you see me?!”

What was that about being bad at studying, terrible at games, rude, a braggart, and an online troll?

Clenching her fist, she muttered, “Fatty Xiao, if you have a problem with me, just say so! Is this because I still haven’t paid back the five thousand I borrowed?”

From behind the door, Shen Xiaodi shouted in frustration, “I told you not to call me ‘Fatty’! It only makes me fatter, you mood-killer!”

His sister was such a downer. The emotional moment they shared had him imagining how he’d cry if she were gone.

But now, Yue Yin had ruined it! She didn’t understand a thing about timing or building drama!

…

While Yue Yin may have been casually brushing things off with Shen Xiaodi, Bai Xiulian genuinely believed in the idea of “evil spirits.” She thought Shen Hao Ping was simply possessed by an evil force and that, with an exorcist’s help, he’d recover, just like Aunt Zhang.

She reached out to an occult group through Shen Hao Ping’s connections and even reported to the Paranormal Incident Management Department with their guidance, hoping for assistance. However, the Department hadn’t given her a clear answer.

Shen family staff had started to return, and upon learning that Shen Hao Ping was gravely ill, they all wore strange expressions.

Especially Aunt Zhang, who had been haunted by evil thoughts for a month—her face was ghostly pale with fear.

Their anxious expressions reminded everyone of the night before, when Mr. Shen had erupted at Yue Yin, threatening to throw her out of the house…

People began to gossip about Yue Yin, claiming she had dark powers.

Xiao He, Li Ma, and others shivered, staying a good distance from her whenever they could.

A few gathered, whispering, “I knew it! Miss Yue Yin gives off such creepy vibes!”

“She’s terrifying—what on earth is going on with her?”

“Could Mr. Shen be possessed, like Aunt Zhang?”

“I think I know! The spirit haunting Mr. Shen and Aunt Zhang might be Miss Yue Yin’s real father, Yue Shaoqiang! He’s probably crawled back from the grave, furious his daughter’s being treated so poorly!”

The idea instantly gained support, and the group eagerly speculated where Yue Shaoqiang’s ghost might have been all this time.

…

After noticing the rumors about Yue Yin, some staff members timidly resigned, while others carried on, pretending nothing was amiss—after all, the Shen family paid well, and a worker has to eat, even if they’re scared of ghosts.

Yue Yin was uninterested in who stayed or left, or in the rumors surrounding her.

What truly irked her was that, after only two days of relaxation at home, her teacher was already denying her further leave.

“Yue Yin, I spoke with your mother. Your father’s not well, but you still can’t skip classes—this is a critical year for university admissions…”

Her homeroom teacher pleaded, urging her to return to school.

Yue Yin’s expression turned strained, filled with regret.

“If I’d known, I would have killed Shen Hao Ping. She’d thought as long as he was bedridden, she could use it as an excuse to keep taking days off!

Unfortunately, that was impossible. The excuse of Shen Hao Ping being near death was convenient, but he couldn’t just die over and over again. So even if she were to kill him now, once the seven-day mourning period ended, she’d still have to return to school.

After a few days absent, Yue Yin returned to school, completely unfazed. She resumed her usual pattern of dozing in class and slipping away afterward. As she idly read novels, Jiang Siliu sat beside her, catching her up on recent events. “While you were out, Li Shushu asked about you a few times. She even considered visiting your house.”

That jogged Yue Yin’s memory about casually promising Li Shushu she’d attend her birthday party.

“Oh, I’d almost forgotten about her,” she said, blinking.

Li Shushu was connected to a certain organization, and the malicious force within the school was likely their doing.

Jiang Suliu chuckled lightly. “But yesterday, she seemed restless. She lingered at school all night after classes.”

Without even looking up from her book, Yue Yin said, “She probably figured out that the metal dice disappeared.”

Li Shushu was probably a minor ability user herself, though not powerful enough to sense an A-level malevolent entity accurately. They’d cultivated it within the school as a hunting ground to sustain their operations. Now, realizing the dice had vanished, the plotters were likely scrambling to find it.

After updating her, Jiang Suliu checked her expression and asked, “I heard Shen Hao Ping had an accident. Are you okay?”

Jiang Suliu hadn’t seen Yue Yin for days, even though he’d thought about visiting the Shen family to see if he could be of help. But ultimately, he’d held back. Without permission from the god he served, a devotee mustn’t disturb them without reason.

“Oh, I just dealt with a few pests,” Yue Yin replied nonchalantly.

Thinking of Bai Xiulian back home, she suddenly added, “Actually, I need you to handle something for me.” She briefly mentioned Yue Shaoqiang’s inheritance, leaving the matter to Jiang Suliu.

He didn’t hesitate in the slightest. “Of course, I’ll arrange it.”

Once she’d casually delegated the inheritance, Yue Yin brought up another issue. “By the way, I still haven’t finished the self-reflection essay the homeroom teacher assigned. You do it.”

“Yes.” Jiang Suliu didn’t question it.

Zhang Boshui, who had been eavesdropping with his seatmate, finally couldn’t resist glancing back at them. “What’s their relationship, anyway?”

Ever since overhearing a conversation between Yue Yin and Jiang Suliu, they’d speculated wildly about their connection, occasionally trying to listen in. Today, the more they heard, the more confused they felt. Why was Jiang Suliu writing Yue Yin’s punishment essay?

And why was Jiang Suliu agreeing to this?

Not only was the classmate sitting in the front row shocked, but more and more people soon discovered what was happening.

“Jiang Suliu, I want water.”

“Jiang Suliu, where’s my bag?”

“Jiang Suliu!! Help me with my homework!!”

On the way home from school, Yue Yin called out commands over her shoulder.

Trailing behind her was a refined young man, his features striking and dressed in the school uniform with a white shirt beneath. Even in simple attire, his bearing was unmistakably noble. He carried her cartoon water bottle, both of their bags slung over his shoulders, her jacket draped over his arm, walking at a leisurely pace.

As they walked a few meters ahead, the surrounding crowd fumbled for their phones, whispering to each other.

“No way… am I seeing the top student acting like a servant?”

“Who’s this goddess bossing around our little Jiang? Does she have a death wish?”

“Say no more, it’s been a week already! A week, people, we’re witnessing history! Is this love? Love at first sight?”

Jiang Suliu was unanimously considered the school’s “high-altitude flower,” admired by all. Born into one of the top families, he was not only handsome but also consistently at the top of the class—a bona fide academic prodigy. Usually, such a person would be admired and pursued from afar, but never seen behaving like this, compliant and indulgent toward a single girl.

Yue Yin and Jiang Suliu’s strange dynamic had sparked a wildfire of gossip across the school.

After classes, Jiang Suliu chatted idly with his friends on the way out. Standing with one hand in his pocket, he was surrounded by a cluster of admirers, a perennial center of attention among his wealthy peers.

Zhang Boshui saw him and hurriedly approached.

Feigning nonchalance, he casually brought up Yue Yin, “So, Suliu, it’s been over a month with your new seatmate. How’s that going?”

Jiang Suliu, with his flawless pedigree and looks, was the school’s undisputed center of attention. While getting a new seatmate might be an ordinary event for anyone else, for him, it became the talk of the school.

Being close to him could mean anything from a simple crush to a family connection, a way to secure ties for future influence. Sharing a desk with him was like striking gold.

Plenty of people had hoped to sit beside him, only to be unexpectedly thwarted by the obscure Yue Yin. And lately, the two seemed closer, with Jiang Suliu even willing to do her bidding.

While it was frustrating, few lingered on it. But prompted by Zhang Boshui and today’s rumors, people were once again curious about their relationship.

Bolder than before, Zhang Boshui couldn’t resist asking, “Suliu, are you dating Yue Yin? You two seem closer since becoming seatmates.”

Jiang Suliu paused, momentarily surprised, then smiled. “No,” he replied with his usual gentle expression. “Yue Yin and I are just good friends.”

The crowd, who’d grown up amid wealth and influence, could read between the lines. No one believed him.

Everyone knew Jiang Suliu, the esteemed scion of the Jiang family, had countless friends. It was normal for people to seek his favor, but he was never known to lower himself to serve anyone, especially not like a devoted attendant.

So his unusual dedication toward Yue Yin made the truth easy to guess.

One of the boys, feigning astonishment, blurted out excitedly, “Suliu, you like Yue Yin, don’t you?”

Rather than getting upset at having his feelings exposed, Jiang Suliu remained composed, even making it seem natural.

He lowered his gaze, a gentle smile on his lips. “I admire her deeply.”

“What?” No one understood.

To them, Jiang Suliu was a recognized prodigy, a gilded youth with all the advantages, while Yue Yin was practically invisible—unloved by her family and academically average, aside from her striking looks.

How could someone like him revere her?

Everyone chalked it up to romantic delusion.

Lowering his gaze, Jiang Suliu’s warm smile concealed his dark, consuming desire.

To call it “like” was trivial; “admiration” didn’t quite capture it. What he felt was closer to a reverent obsession, a fanatical devotion beyond common logic.

In his heart, he was a fervent disciple blindly pursuing a god.

Even if Yue Yin were to kill his dearest friend, he would help bury the body without a word, if she sought to destroy the world, he’d quietly lay the groundwork for her plan.

Outwardly, he was the model nobleman. But inwardly, he had long fallen, his mind irrevocably tainted from the moment he dreamed of the ocean.

Being good or evil was irrelevant. Only his god’s will mattered.

For he believed his faith was truth.

And at that moment, Jiang Suliu was deeply grateful that Yue Yin showed little interest in humanity—nor any intent to destroy the world.