Intimate Trial Chapter 12

Chapter 12

Late at night, the city’s light pollution stained the sky a deep, dull purplish-red, with only a few of the brightest stars struggling to emit a faint glow.

Ye Chang’s bedroom was located in the penthouse apartment, offering an expansive view, but the heavy blackout curtains were drawn, leaving only a wall lamp to cast a warm, soft halo. She was wearing a silk nightgown, leaning against the headboard, not yet asleep.

In her hand was a silver-framed photo, its edges smooth and warm from years of handling. Inside the frame was an old photograph, its colors still vibrant. The subject of the photo was a young woman, whose features bore a six or seven-tenths resemblance to Ye Chang, but whose temperament was entirely different. Her smile was warm and bright, her eyes clear and gentle, as if capable of dispelling all shadows.

That was her older sister, Su Mian.

Ye Chang’s fingertips brushed ever so lightly over Su Mian’s cheek in the photo, the movement cautious, as if afraid of disturbing the long-held stillness. Her eyes held a vulnerability and profound sorrow that she would never display in public during the day. All the coldness, decisiveness, and armor of control from the day were shed now, leaving only endless longing and exhaustion.

The light from the wall lamp cast faint shadows on her lowered eyelashes, and also reflected her own blurred image on the glass of the photo frame. Two similar yet distinct faces silently confronted each other in the quiet night, separated by time and death.

“Sister…” Ye Chang’s voice was barely audible, carrying a trace of imperceptible hoarseness, as if afraid of startling something. “I miss you so much. Can you wait for me a little longer?”

Her thumb rested on the corner of Su Mian’s smiling lips, as if she could still feel the warmth that once was. The fragments of long-sealed memories surged uncontrollably.

In her ears were the hysterical sounds of her parents arguing, the jarring shatter of objects being thrown, and the vile words about profit, betrayal, and mutual hatred that were unbearable to hear. The air was thick with the suffocating smell of smoke, alcohol, and despair. Little Ye Chang curled up in the corner of the living room sofa, trying with all her might to shrink into a ball, her hands clamped tightly over her ears. Yet, the sounds still penetrated everywhere, like cold needles, making her tremble all over.

A searing pain shot through her back. It was from the edge of an ashtray, swung out by accident during the escalating argument, that had grazed her spine. She dared not cry out, but tears streamed silently, mixing with cold sweat and soaking her thin pajamas.

Just as she felt the entire world was about to split open amidst the sharp noise and pain, a pair of warm hands, firm yet gentle, cupped her cold, sweaty little face.

Then, those hands covered her ears.

The palms were soft, carrying a comforting warmth and the faint, clean scent of soap that belonged to her sister. Instantly, the terrible sounds of arguing and shattering were largely blocked out, becoming muffled and distant.

Little Ye Chang trembled and looked up. Through her tear-filled eyes, she saw her sister Su Mian’s face, equally pale but desperately trying to remain calm. Su Mian’s eyes were also red, filled with heartache and a resilience beyond her years. She gently pressed little Ye Chang’s head against her own shoulder, which was still slight but remarkably firm, using her young body to shield her from a part of the cold reality.

“Changchang, don’t be afraid,” Su Mian’s voice sounded close to Ye Chang’s ear, slightly hoarse from being deliberately lowered, yet it was like the strongest barrier, firmly blocking out the storm outside. “Sister is here.”

This sentence, penetrating the slight soundproofing of the palms, was clearly imprinted on little Ye Chang’s heart. She tightly gripped her sister’s clothes, burying her face deep into that harbor of soap scent and warm body heat, finally allowing herself to let out suppressed, animal-like whimpers.

Su Mian held her like that, her palms steadily covering her ears, building a small, temporary safe island with her body. Until the parents’ argument subsided from sheer exhaustion, until the night completely swallowed the chaotic living room.

The cold arguments and the pain in her back had faded and blurred in her memory. But the warmth of her sister’s palm, the gentle firmness when she covered her ears, and that phrase, “Sister is here,” remained like an unextinguished ember, providing a faint but crucial light and warmth through countless difficult, lonely, and even near-breaking dark nights that followed.

She was her anchor, her shield, her first and last refuge.

The scene violently spun, shattered, and reassembled.

Before her was the cold, sterile, suffocating corridor of a hospital. The smell of disinfectant was strong and pungent, mixed with a faint scent of rust and despair. Piercing alarms, frantic footsteps, the urgent shouts of medical staff… everything seemed covered by a distorted film, noisy and distant.

Ye Chang herself seemed to have shrunk, reverting to the girl in her early twenties, who had just begun to make a name for herself in the business world but was still green and terrified. She wore a suit stained with dust and unknown grime, her hair messy, rushing like mad through door after door, her heart pounding so hard it felt ready to burst from her chest.

Then, she saw it.

At the end of the corridor by the window, that familiar, slight figure.

It was Su Mian. She wore a loose patient gown, her back to the door, facing the gray sky outside the window. Her figure was precarious, so thin that a gust of wind seemed capable of scattering her. Just a back view, yet it condensed all the exhaustion, pain, and… a certain chilling finality of the world.

“Sister—!!!” Ye Chang screamed, a heart-wrenching sound, throwing herself forward with all her strength.

Just as her fingertips were about to touch Su Mian’s gown.

That figure leaned forward.

Time seemed to stretch infinitely, frozen. Ye Chang watched helplessly as her sister’s figure detached from the windowsill, like a withered leaf that had lost all support, slowly yet irreversibly, drifting downward. The hem of the patient gown traced a pale, tragic arc in the air.

“No—!!!!”

The scream of despair caught in her throat, turning into a silent, lung-tearing suffocation.

Immediately following was a dull, soul-shaking impact sound. It came from downstairs, penetrating layer after layer of obstruction, crashing heavily onto her eardrums, her heart.

The world instantly lost all color and sound, leaving only boundless, all-consuming white noise.

She stumbled to the window, looking down recklessly—

On the ground below, a blinding red quickly spread out from the center of that still, broken figure, soaking the gray concrete. That patch of red was so vivid, so hideous, like a flower blooming in hell.

Her sister’s body… was drenched in blood. The once warm and bright smile, the hands that once gently covered her ears, the harbor that had given her all her strength and warmth… were now reduced to a cold, lifeless shell, lying in that pool of glaring crimson.

“Ah… ahh…” Ye Chang let out an inarticulate wail, like a wounded animal, her hands gripping the cold windowsill so tightly that her nails broke and bled, yet she didn’t notice. A massive wave of grief and dizziness swept over her. Her vision swam, and her stomach churned.

Why? Why did this happen?

This thought, like a poisoned vine, wrapped around her heart, constricting her until she could barely breathe. Every breath of air carried the smell of blood and disinfectant, scorching her throat.

I clearly tried so hard… tried so hard to break free from that suffocating home, tried so hard to quickly deal with that wretched couple…

I took those dirty contracts, used those cold-blooded methods, locked my conscience and weakness in the deepest drawer… Wasn’t I doing enough? Wasn’t I fast enough?

Why did I see my sister again in this scene? In this cold, despairing hospital, in the last moment of her life, I couldn’t even grasp the hem of her gown, couldn’t hear her speak another word. Only that decisive, falling back, and the glaring, seemingly indelible crimson on the ground.

Why couldn’t I be faster?

Self-reproach was like countless blunt knives, repeatedly slicing her nerves. Every “if only” was a raw, bleeding wound.

Why… Sister, why wouldn’t you wait for me a little longer?

This question was the most devastating. It carried the grievance and helplessness of a child, yet was crushed by the immense, irreversible loss.

“I’m sorry… Sister… I’m sorry…” Broken sobs escaped her tightly clenched teeth, mixing with salty tears, rolling into the cold darkness. “I was too slow… I was useless… Wait for me… Please, wait for me, okay?”

She tightly clutched the front of her nightgown, as if doing so could hold onto something, could lessen the excruciating pain of her heart being carved out alive. But her palm held only emptiness and coldness.

She didn’t know how much time passed. Her tears dried up, leaving only a parched stinging and a metallic taste in her throat. The trembling gradually subsided, but the bone-deep coldness and emptiness settled in for the long haul.

She slowly released her clenched hands, her fingertips icy. Her eyes, from the depths of extreme pain and vulnerability, slowly settled, condensed, and finally turned into two pools of bottomless, unmoving ice.

Outside the window, the sky was still pitch black, but the deepest darkness often heralded the most biting cold before dawn, and also nurtured the sharpest light at daybreak.