I started formulating a plan in my mind.

Based on my clinical observations of Jiang Muqing’s yandere symptoms, I settled on a root-cause treatment approach.

I was confident this single course would cure her completely.

Here’s the overall plan.

Jiang Muqing felt no one cared about her? I’d get more people to show concern, diverting her attention from me.

Then I could gradually cool things down until we returned to a normal classmate relationship.

There were two specific methods.

First, the gentle approach.

Help her make friends she could actually talk to.

Discover her hobbies, then find like-minded people around those interests.

Slowly, she’d break her dependence on me.

Second, the aggressive approach.

Recreate that high-rise rooftop rescue scene—but with someone else as the hero.

Make her realize people save others out of heroism, not romantic interest.

The gentle method was doable now—I could introduce friends or hobbies.

The aggressive one? Tricky.

Creating a fake-danger scenario without real risk was hard.

Plus, I had no one to help stage it yet.

…

On the swaying bus ride home, I outlined Jiang Muqing’s treatment strategy.

After finalizing it, I suddenly worried I’d been too harsh with her that morning.

A growing unease crept into my chest.

What if she snapped again and drew cursed circles for Xiaoxue all over my walls?

No problem—Mom was home. She’d stop Jiang Muqing.

But what if Jiang Muqing attacked Mom with a cleaver?

Not a big deal. Mom was a homebody, but stronger than Jiang Muqing.

In a fair fight, Jiang Muqing couldn’t win.

What if she ambushed Mom?

…

I couldn’t bear to think further. I needed to get home fast.

After the bus stopped, I sprinted all the way to my apartment complex.

Everything looked normal.

The old security guard yawned at the gate, sipping tea while reading his evening paper.

No police cars or chaos at the entrance—good sign.

I waved at the guard and dashed to my building’s entrance.

Dusk had fallen. Lights glowed in every window except one on the fifth floor.

Mine.

Weird. Mom was always home by now and would’ve turned on the lights.

My unease turned to full panic.

I raced up five flights without pausing, then knocked on the door.

It swung open.

The door was open?!

Even if Jiang Muqing was fine, a wide-open door meant trouble—maybe a burglary.

Heart pounding, I pushed inside.

Pitch black. Thick smoke stung my nose, like something burning.

I fumbled for the living room light switch. Click, click—nothing.

Power outage? Impossible. I’d recharged the electricity card days ago.

“Mom?” I yelled toward her room.

Silence.

“Jiang Muqing?” I shouted toward Dad’s study.

No reply.

What the hell?!

“Mom, where are you?!”

Like a lost lamb, I stumbled blindly through the empty rooms.

I burst into Mom’s bedroom—no blood, no mess. Everything tidy.

Her computer was off, and she wasn’t there.

“Fan… you’re so late coming home—”

A cold, eerie voice sounded behind me.

I turned stiffly.

A small, shadowy figure stood crookedly in the doorway.

Wild hair. Torn clothes. Glinting metal in her hand.

“What’s wrong with you?” I stepped back, unnerved by her appearance in the dark.

“I wanted to surprise you, Fan.”

The shadowy figure grinned oddly.

“Where’s Mom?” I asked fearfully.

“In the kitchen… in the pot…”

She whispered, chuckling darkly.

“The pot?!”

Jiang Muqing?! What had she done?!

I lunged at her, ready to fight—

Then all the lights blazed on.

Blinding light flooded the room, revealing the “monster.”

A petite girl in a neat white blouse.

My little bear apron hung loosely around her slim waist.

Cabbage leaves stuck in her hair. Soot stained her pale face. Oil splatters covered her clothes.

She held a gleaming kitchen knife—but otherwise seemed harmless.

“What happened here?”

“Auntie, you flipped the circuit breaker too early! I hadn’t even said happy birthday to Fan yet!”

Jiang Muqing pouted, calling out to the hallway.

“I already heard Fan’s terrified screams. He might’ve cried in front of you. Time to stop, haha…”

Mom’s pitying laughter echoed from outside.

Instinctively, I snatched the knife from Jiang Muqing’s hand.

Then it hit me—I’d been pranked by Mom and Jiang Muqing.

…

They really went all out.

“Happy 16th birthday!”

Jiang Muqing placed a paper golden crown on my head.

Today was my birthday? The date clicked—I’d been so busy with exams and Jiang Muqing, I’d forgotten.

She led my dazed self to the dining table.

Our table overflowed with colorful, vibrant dishes.

A huge buttercream cake sat center stage, six thin candles lit for my sixteenth year.

This was overkill. Normally, Mom and I just ate out or had a nice home meal—no cake.

I hated the cloying sweetness of cream.

“You made all this?” I stared at the feast, stunned.

“Mm. I barely cook at home—we always order takeout. Auntie taught me most dishes today. It was… a bit tough.”

Exhaustion flickered across her soot-smudged face.

Mom emerged from the kitchen with the final dish.

The food looked decent—better than my year-long cooking efforts.

But since Mom taught her, I wasn’t fully trusting.

I cautiously sampled a bright-colored dish.

“Is it good?”

Jiang Muqing’s hopeful gaze nearly choked me.

As expected…

This taste—I wondered if we’d run out of salt entirely.

But she was so eager. I couldn’t say it was bad.

“Delicious,” I forced out stiffly.

“Really? I’m so happy!”

Her eyes lit up with a radiance I’d never seen—like a lamp suddenly blazing in a dark room.

“You must eat every bite. It’s packed with my feelings for you, Fan.”

Her innocent smile was impossible to refuse.

“Uh… there’s so much. I might not finish it all.”

I winced. Did she want me to die of dehydration?

“Xiao Fan, you can’t waste Auntie and Xiao Qing’s hard work,” Mom declared, eyeing the lavish spread with satisfaction.

“Right, Fan. You can’t waste my feelings and Auntie’s,” Jiang Muqing pouted cutely, echoing Mom.