Momo's Gradual Change - VOL. 1

C180. Memories of the Past.

Chapter 180: Memories of the Past

Shu Fan? Shu Fan?!

A piercing sound filled Song Yimo's mind as the name jolted her memory.

It was the year she returned. A boy emerged into the world in a shocking, unforgettable way—etched into the minds of millions of netizens.

At nine o'clock in the evening, prime internet time, a video unexpectedly appeared and began to autoplay on countless screens.

A clean-faced boy, looking impossibly young, stood in the frame, holding a military knife. In a spacious room behind him, a man and a woman were bound to chairs, unable to move, their mouths taped shut, eyes wide with terror.

Facing the camera, the boy smiled with a kind of innocent mischief. He pointed to the woman and said, “This is the woman who gave birth to me. I haven’t seen her in years. Isn’t she ugly?”

The woman, however, was not ugly. On the contrary, she was beautiful—though, in that moment, her tear-streaked face and shaking head could tug at anyone’s heart.

Yet the boy was unmoved. He turned the camera to the man beside her. “And here’s her lover. They were fooling around together even before my father passed. Does he look familiar to anyone? Yep, he’s that government official who pops up on local TV now and then, always preaching about ethics and morality. But behind closed doors? He's rotten to the core.”

The camera shifted once more, revealing a small altar. Two photos sat side by side, offerings before them, with three burning sticks of incense curling soft tendrils of smoke into the air.

“This is my father,” the boy said softly. “He was a soldier. He went on a mission and never came back. Of course, the state provided compensation, which naturally went to her,” he pointed, “that woman. Next to him is my little sister.”

The boy held his sister's photo close to the camera, his face smiling, yet the expression was unbearably sorrowful.

The photo showed a thin little girl, smiling brightly, though her eyes looked weary. Or perhaps, she was smiling for the one holding the camera.

“My sister’s name was Shu Xin. She never knew peace a single day in her life. She was born with a congenital heart condition, never tasted mother’s milk, abandoned when she was just five months old. She died at five... She was only in this world for five years, and no one remembers her but me.”

Gently placing her photo back, the boy twirled the knife skillfully, then, with a sudden flick, sent it flying. It struck the man’s forehead with chilling precision, and he slumped forward without a sound.

The woman closed her eyes tightly, her body quaking, a low, hoarse sound rising from her throat.

The boy continued smiling. “Xia Lin, I've always wanted to ask you. I’m so smart; I learn anything in an instant. Why couldn’t you just raise me properly? Whatever you wanted, I could have earned for you. Why couldn’t you be a decent mother and raise me and my sister? Why?!”

The woman collapsed, her face wet with uncontrollable tears. Shu Fan watched her with cold eyes.

Just as Xia Lin thought he might soften, the boy plunged the knife into her chest without hesitation, whispering in an icy tone, “Since you have no heart, what’s the point of living?”

In the video’s final seconds, the boy waved a casual farewell to the camera, then the screen returned to normal, leaving no trace of the recording.

Shu Fan didn’t live long after that. After committing the crime, he ended his life in a beautiful lake.

According to news reports later, when his body was found, he was tightly clutching the photos of his father and sister.

The incident shook the nation for days.

People naturally feared this boy, who seemed almost like a terrorist, but once he was gone, fear gave way to sympathy. Resentment for the government's indifference and dissatisfaction with people’s own circumstances spread, and the authorities tried every method to suppress the story, but it refused to fade away.

Song Yimo remembered it all so clearly because of the boy’s questions to his mother.

Once, she had wanted to scream the same questions at her own mother, Song Yi:

Why couldn’t you raise me properly?

Why couldn’t you just be a good mother?

Everything you wanted, I could have earned for you!

She had suppressed those feelings for years, until the hatred dulled. But this boy... he had taken things to an unimaginable extreme.

And now, Shu Fan was only seven or eight years old, his sister barely one. If her guess was correct, they had been abandoned just a few months ago.

Song Yimo thought, if—if she extended her hand to help Shuxin now, maybe the boy wouldn’t reach that tragic end.

His sister had been both his burden and his last anchor to normalcy.

For a fleeting moment, she lost herself in thought as Zhe Ji continued speaking. “Shu Fan's no ordinary kid. He’s united those orphans into a tight-knit group. And when he fights, it’s like he has no regard for his own life. He even managed to seize some territory, and I’ve heard he set some strict rules for his group. They all look up to him.”

Song Yimo took a sip of water, composing herself, and looked up at Zheji’s expectant face. “Zhe Ji Dage, you seem to know Shu Fan quite well.”

Zhe Ji sighed, rubbing his face. “His father was once my comrade-in-arms.”

But that was all he could reveal—he had his code, and even after leaving the military, he was bound to it.

Thankfully, Song Yimo wasn’t intent on digging deeper. Everyone has their own burdens to bear.

Many people have good hearts, but few would go so far as to spend a fortune on someone else’s behalf. Zhe Ji wanted to help Shu Fan as much as he could, but he was a blunt man, offering only unvarnished truths.

“Shu Fan and his sister have endured enough hardship. If their mother hadn’t taken off with the government compensation, we might have been able to scrape together enough for Shuxin’s surgery. But now…” He paused, eyes dimming. “Shu Fan’s incredibly smart, quick to learn anything. Shu Cheng once said his son has an eidetic memory, but none of us believed him. One time when he was on leave, he brought Shu Fan along. The boy was barely three, but after we showed him how to assemble a gun just once, he remembered every step. If he’d had the strength, he could’ve put it together himself.”

When it came to intelligence, Song Yimo raised both hands in agreement. Killing so swiftly and without hesitation at only fourteen or fifteen, hacking his way into the screens of countless netizens with that bloody message—he was truly brilliant. If only he'd chosen a better path.

"Zheji Dage, you know we’re leaving tomorrow."

Zhe Ji nodded, not blinking, though his broad and sturdy frame seemed to tense slightly with nerves.

“After this break, I’ll be heading to S City for college. If Shu Fan agrees, I’ll take him and his sister with me. S City has advanced medical care; heart surgery is serious, and it’s best to rely on a reputable hospital.”

She paused, then added, “He’s still young. I’ll cover his schooling.”

Zhe Ji’s eyes immediately reddened, his voice shaky as he shot to his feet, exclaiming, “He’ll agree, he will. I’ll go find him right now.”

No one thought his reaction excessive. In fact, the others in the room all looked on with expressions that could only be described as gentle. Zuo Chun and Wu Ting thought back to how close they had come to losing their own lives. Miao Zhiruo, meanwhile, couldn’t help but feel a mixture of exasperation and pride at having a friend like Song Yimo. And as for Zhou Qing...

Those who have seen too much bloodshed always have a soft spot for the pure-hearted, and he was no exception.