Memories (V)

I picked up the lukewarm tea beside me and took a sip, my gaze drifting toward the snowflakes still swirling outside the window, though my thoughts had wandered far away.

Taking them in, at first, it might have been a whim... no, perhaps it didn't even qualify as a "whim." It was more like a cold judgment made on that specific cold night, in that specific situation, based on the logic that "they would likely die if left alone," combined with the slight stir caused by those two pairs of heterochromatic eyes—a decision that could hardly be called well-considered.

They were trouble, variables, uncertain factors that could shatter my current peaceful life.

But...

Watching Yi Jiang steal a cautious glance at me before quickly lowering her head to continue eating, her earlobes seemingly flushed red; watching Yi Xuan finish a bun and lick her lips, still wanting more, her red eyes shining as she reached for the next one...

A tiny, almost forgotten or deliberately ignored corner deep in my heart seemed to have been gently touched by something.

(Perhaps, the two of them coming to this home will bring me... a different kind of life.)

This "different" wouldn't necessarily be all good. It could mean noise, trivialities, trouble that needed handling, and responsibilities that had to be shouldered. But it could also mean... just like this moment, where the room held not just the faint bitterness of tea and the scent of dust, but also the warm aroma of food, the subtle and real sounds of chewing, and the presence of two vivid, fragile lives.

I was just too kind after all, unable to watch these two little girls die in the snow, regardless of whether they were Yi Jiang and Yi Xuan or not.

I set down my teacup, the corners of my mouth curling up into a very slight arc without me realizing it.

Looking at the two little ones still eating at the dining table, a practical problem presented itself. I couldn't just let them stay at home like this, like two stray cats taken in temporarily. At their age, they deserved a normal life, and I had to try to provide that.

(They are children, after all; they need to go to school.)

Once the thought was set, I didn't hesitate. I pulled my phone from my pocket, the screen glowing with a cold white light in the dim room. My fingers slid quickly through my contacts, bypassing a string of ordinary or secret names, finally stopping on a contact with no name saved, only a simple rabbit symbol. This was one of the Twelve Black Beasts of the Yun Family's guard—Mao Rabbit Faust.

There was almost no ringing; the call was answered almost immediately, before even two rings had passed. There was no "Hello?" or "Greetings?" on the other end, only a silent, focused breathing that indicated the person on the other side was already in a state of total readiness.

I skipped all pleasantries and spoke directly into the receiver, my tone calm and clear as I gave orders: "Check if the two new girls I have here have any household registration records. Their features are distinct: a pair of sisters, white hair, heterochromatic eyes—gold and red—around ten years old. If they don't, or if the records are problematic..." I paused, my gaze sweeping over the two small figures on the sofa, "then just register them under our family's household. I'll decide on the names later. Also, arrange a suitable school for them as soon as possible. Elementary school, something reliable with a simple environment."

I stated the most critical information and requirements all at once. There was a two-second silence on the other end, as if she were synchronizing records and initiating a search. Then, a steady, clear female voice without a trace of unnecessary emotion came back, respectful but never fawning, every word sounding measured:

"Understood. I will verify the household registration information immediately and initiate the enrollment process. The household address will be registered to your current residence. The school screening criteria have been recorded: safety, low profile, and priority on teaching quality. I will report the preliminary plan to you by tomorrow morning at the latest. Is there anything else that requires priority, Young Master?"

"That's all for now. Thank you for your hard work, Mao Rabbit."

"I obey your will, Young Master." The voice on the other end didn't have a hint of hesitation. After finishing this signature closing, she hung up the phone cleanly. Only a short, busy signal remained in the receiver.

I took the phone away from my ear, looked at the screen as it returned to darkness, and couldn't help but click my tongue softly.

(Mao Rabbit... or rather, Faust, is still the same as ever.)

Efficient, precise, absolutely obedient, always entering a work state at the first moment, confirming instructions and providing feedback in the most concise way possible. There wasn't a single word of idle chatter, not even a statement like "I guarantee the mission will be completed"—she simply responded with the next step of action. It was as if she weren't a living person, but a precision instrument that output the optimal solution the moment an instruction was entered.

However, Wei Sheep once told me that Fufu is actually quite human when she's on vacation; it's a pity I've never seen that side of her.

Forget it. I shook my head and put the phone back in my pocket. What mattered now was resolving the legal status and schooling for the two little ones. In this regard, Faust's efficiency was the most trustworthy.

Their appearance, especially those striking features, meant they were destined to never be completely hidden among ordinary people. Since I had decided to keep them and give them a relatively normal life, the corresponding protection had to follow.

I needed someone reliable, someone strong enough, careful enough, and... preferably female, to make it easier to look after and protect the two girls closely.

Thinking of this, I turned and left the guest room, walking through the quiet corridor toward the room deep in the mansion that was always filled with the faint scent of old books and cigars—the study of my father, Yun Shen.

After a light knock, I pushed open the heavy solid wood door, and my father was indeed inside. He sat behind the large mahogany desk, wearing reading glasses, flipping through a thick document.

Hearing the door open, he looked up, his gaze behind the lenses sharp and steady, as if he could instantly discern my intent. Seeing it was me, the corners of his mouth seemed to twitch imperceptibly, and he casually took off his glasses.

(Here he comes again, the boy who never visits without a reason.) I could almost read that sentence from his subtle expression. Indeed, ever since I began to have my own sense of self, I never came to see my father without a reason. When I took the initiative to come to the study to find him, it was rarely for simple father-son small talk.

"Father." I walked to the desk, not beating around the bush, and cut straight to the point. My gaze met his scrutiny calmly.

"Since we have decided to adopt those two... white-haired furballs," I used a slightly casual term to refer to Yi Jiang and Yi Xuan, though my tone was very serious, "then their safety cannot rely solely on this house's security system. They need more personal, more flexible, and more professional protection, especially when they are at school or out and about."