The Tycoon's Mysterious Darling Wife
Chapter 113. That is Hell 1 (The Third Watch of the Night)

Chapter 113: 113. That is Hell 1 (The Third Watch of the Night)

Shen Qinglan touched her heart; it was still beating, which meant she was still alive.

It was still dark outside, and the other three in the dormitory were asleep, their breaths even and steady. Everything told her she was far, far away from "that place" and that she would never return there in her lifetime.

She lay quietly in bed, unable to sleep, and eventually decided to get up.

Her movements were light, not disturbing the three sleeping around her. Once dressed, she opened the balcony door, looked outside to find her spot, and jumped down.

It was the third floor. A fall like this could kill or cripple an ordinary person, but Shen Qinglan wrapped her arms around a pipe and slid down effortlessly, landing lightly on her feet.

She had thought about using the main entrance, but at this hour, the dormitory doors were still locked; there was no way out.

She went to the playground and started running laps on the track, the images from her dreams haunting her.

Shen Qinglan and the group of children had drifted at sea for a very long time before they were brought to an uninhabited island.

To call it uninhabited wasn’t entirely accurate—it was inhabited, and not by just a few people.

They were taken to a room, a room that was much larger and brighter than the small, dark one where they had been before.

Only then did Shen Qinglan have a chance to see clearly: they weren’t alone in the room; there were many other children there, with yellow, white, and black skin, eyes of all colors... children from all sorts of ethnicities and countries.

The kids here were young, the oldest around seven or eight, and the youngest about the same age as Shen Qinglan.

Their expressions were all the same: panic, fear, helplessness.

Shen Qinglan sat in a corner by herself, hugging her knees with her hands and tears in her eyes. She missed her daddy and mommy, her grandparents, and her brother. She wanted to go home.

Why hadn’t her daddy come to save her after all this time? Did they not want her anymore?

Large teardrops fell to the ground as Shen Qinglan cried heartbreakingly, yet silently.

She was wearing an old cotton jacket, given to her by a woman. After such a long and tumultuous time, the jacket was dirty and its original appearance was unrecognizable.

"Why are you crying?" A childish voice, tender and sticky, sounded from above her.

Shen Qinglan looked up to see a girl about seven or eight years old, standing there looking down at her.

Shen Qinglan didn’t speak, and the girl squatted down, "Why are you crying?"

"I want to go home." Hearing the familiar phrase, Shen Qinglan finally spoke.

The girl reached out, patting Shen Qinglan’s head, "Once you come here, you can’t go back. Don’t cry anymore, if those people see you, they will beat you. Just yesterday, I saw a child get beaten so badly for crying that they were covered in blood."

Shen Qinglan’s face went pale, her big eyes filled with terror as she remembered the little girl lying on the ground, covered in blood.

She wiped her tears, not daring to cry anymore. Later, Shen Qinglan learned that the girl’s name was Qin Mu.

Shen Qinglan shook her head, trying to dispel the images from her mind, but they only became clearer.

They had been sold to an International Assassin Organization and were subjected to various forms of training every day. There were people watching over them, ready to beat them viciously anytime they cried or their strength gave way.

They were just a bunch of kids, a few years old, but those people didn’t even blink, showing no mercy in their blows.

Shen Qinglan had witnessed with her own eyes as they beat a child to death, whose body was then casually thrown into the ocean to feed the fish.

Shen Qinglan had been beaten too. Being young and burdened with heavy training, there were times when she could not hold on, and when she was beaten, Qin Mu would lunge forward to shield her in his embrace.

Qin Mu, two years older than Shen Qinglan, was actually only seven years old but always encouraged her when she could not hold on and protected her when she was being beaten.

Gradually, Shen Qinglan became very dependent on this "sister" named Qin Mu.

Shen Qinglan cried on her first day there and never shed a tear again, even when battered and bruised by the beatings.

At first, she still hoped that her father would save her, but as days passed, that hope slowly turned to despair.

At the age of seven, they were abandoned in a primitive jungle. The people in charge of them said that only three people who survived the jungle would be allowed to live.

On their bodies, they had nothing but a dagger.

Seven-year-old Shen Qinglan had grown taller and was wearing all black. Her pretty face was tense, and her hair had been cut short to her ears.

She followed closely behind Qin Mu, who kept her protected at his back, "Xiaoqi, you must stick close to me. I will definitely get us out of here. We will survive and live well."

After coming here, Shen Qinglan was known only by the code name Seven, with no real name, no surname, no nationality.

"Don’t worry, Sister Mumu, I’m very capable now and won’t hold you back." The seven-year-old Shen Qinglan, whose face already bore some resemblance to her current self, said this with a smile that lacked any expression.

Mumu smiled faintly, "Yes, my Xiaoqi is very capable."

Along the way, they faced many attacks, from wild beasts in the jungle and also from their companions. Mumu continued to protect Shen Qinglan until on the seventh day, Shen Qinglan’s hands remained clean, untainted by anyone’s blood.

In contrast, Qin Mu’s black clothing had stiffened and hardened from dried blood, and his body bore numerous wounds.

Shen Qinglan toyed with a rabbit she had just caught, intending to roast it for dinner.

Qin Mu was bandaging his wounds on the side, holding some herbs in his hand that Shen Qinglan had picked for him. He chewed the herbs into a paste in his mouth and then applied it to the wounds.

"Sister Mumu, next time don’t just focus on me; I can handle it," Shen Qinglan spoke. Perhaps because they were from the same country, Qin Mu had always been protective of her.

Qin Mu laughed it off, "These are just minor wounds, it’s okay. Xiaoqi, we people are destined to be unclean. I know that protecting you like this might not be good for you. But looking at your clear eyes, I always want them to stay that way, untainted. I don’t want to see you become like the others here, a cold, killing machine."

Nine-year-old Mumu spoke as if she were an old person who had experienced countless hardships.

Shen Qinglan said nothing, just quietly roasting the rabbit, while Qin Mu no longer spoke, using the time to rest with his eyes closed.