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Sisters of Mercy Primary School • Chapel
The vast, square chapel was empty—no white lilies, no roses, not even the Roman pavilion remained. There was almost nothing left.
Only at the very center stood the simple wooden bench where, during his one and only prayer of gratitude to the Holy Mother, Bai Shikun had once sat.
It was just a plain wooden bench. But as Long’er slowly walked over and sat down, it instantly took on the aura of a throne—its sacred presence so palpable that one would unconsciously hold their breath, their heart skipping a beat.
At least, that’s how Wang Rong felt, kneeling before Long’er as a prisoner.
Wang Rong did not know how long she had been kneeling. Perhaps time truly no longer held meaning for her. At last, she murmured, “How could this be… Wasn’t I… wasn’t I already…?”
“Already killed me? Please! You’re just a restless spirit—where did you get the confidence you could kill a god?” Long’er laughed, exasperated.
“I told you, splitting forms is just a minor trick for me. The ‘me’ you killed, the heart you ate, all came from my avatar.”
Long’er leaned back, idly twirling a lock of hair with slender fingers, crossing her legs. As her robe parted, Wang Rong noticed, to her surprise, that she was wearing pink flip-flops with plastic magenta roses, her toenails painted with sparkly crimson polish. The look was garish, but because they were the delicate feet of a young girl, somehow strangely cute.
Long’er continued lazily, “I knew you were up to no good, so I played along and gave you this chance—to see what storm you could stir up.
Of course, it did cost me some spiritual power. You were able to cross the Atlantic and find Xing Jun and Fang Ming only because you ate my avatar’s heart. Otherwise, with just a few months of fortune, you’d never even have made it to the old site of the Sisters’ school in the slums!”
She glanced from her hair to Wang Rong, a hint of disdain in her smile.
“You thought you became a flesh-and-blood woman to seduce Fang Ming, but that takes great power! In reality, you only entered his dream—and that dream was created by me, then I let you in…”
As she spoke, Long’er swung her foot, nearly shaking off her flip-flop.
Seeing this “Holy Mother” like this, Wang Rong almost wanted to laugh, but the words themselves made her want to cry even more. More than anything, she wanted to escape, but she was under Long’er’s spell—she couldn’t even move a finger.
“What’s so funny? Can’t a delinquent girl be a goddess? I can’t help these uncouth habits in front of Shikun either, but all he does is frown—he can’t do a thing about it!” Long’er saw right through her, giggling.
“I’m a goddess from the slums, not like you—so disgusted by your own origins.” Long’er shot a scornful look at the kneeling woman.
“So, that night I saw Bai Shikun—it was just his dream, wasn’t it?” Despairing, Wang Rong spoke weakly.
“Yes! Shikun never believed in gods. Why would he go to the chapel at night for no reason? You didn’t see through it at the time—so silly!”
Long’er sighed dramatically, slipping off her flip-flop and waving it in Wang Rong’s face, grinning mischievously. “I just didn’t expect him to throw his slipper at you—and with such accuracy! Looks like my habits are rubbing off on him! Haha!”
Wang Rong was numb to the mockery, but suddenly remembered something. “The eye… that giant red eye… was that you? Was it?”
“What eye? I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Long’er replied, puzzled.
“Oh, speaking of Shikun, here’s a letter. It’s from your mother.”
Long’er stood up and pulled a folded letter from her sleeve, spreading it on the floor before Wang Rong so she could see it clearly.
“Your mother said she had an affair with Shikun when she was young, which is how you were born. So, you’re his biological daughter—no wonder you turned out deformed.” Long’er paced away calmly, hands clasped behind her back.
Hearing this, Wang Rong’s eyes nearly split open as she stared at the letter. She recognized her mother’s handwriting and the truth stunned her so deeply that, even under the spell, she shook violently.
A shrill scream echoed through the empty hall.
On the verge of collapse, Wang Rong broke the spell and lunged at Long’er. Unfazed, Long’er reached out, her form rapidly expanding.
With one hand, Long’er grabbed Wang Rong in her palm—now a giant, her head nearly brushing the ceiling.
“You knew! You always knew! Why? Why did you let me marry him? I served you all my life! Why did you betray me?” Wang Rong struggled and screamed in Long’er’s grasp.
“Blessings and misfortunes come by one’s own actions. If he weren’t your father, would it be right for you to hook up with him? This is your mother’s karma—and yours. Otherwise, you wouldn’t have made that wish to me. This wasn’t my decision—it was yours,” Long’er replied calmly.
“But what did I ever do to you? I’ve worshipped you since I was little—why did you betray me?” Wang Rong sobbed, relentless.
“Wang Rong, you forget: back then, you not only wished to me—you swore, if I fulfilled your wish, you’d offer me your soul. That’s not a wish, that’s a contract.”
Long’er’s eyes were calm as water as she looked down at her, her voice gentle but clear.
“Nonsense! What soul! When did I ever make such a contract!” Wang Rong shrieked, pounding Long’er’s massive hand with her fists.
“Look at your right palm,” Long’er said evenly.
Wang Rong started. Suddenly, she really did feel something in her right hand. Calming down, she slowly opened her palm. It was a withered reddish flower, the color of dried blood.
Wang Rong’s pupils contracted instantly. Countless fragments of distant memories flashed through her mind.
“Making a wish to the Holy Mother” was not a tradition invented by Wang Rong, nor unique to her. It was a custom, passed down for over a hundred years among students at the Sisters of Mercy Primary School.
Many students would pray and make wishes before the statue in the playground’s corner, sometimes leaving a small flower or candy as an offering.
Children’s wishes were mostly pure and simple—hoping for good exam results, or for admission to a good school. Some prayed for family members’ health. If money was involved, it was usually just for more allowance or to keep their New Year’s money.
Most kids prayed during recess or before morning assembly. But Wang Rong was different. She always felt so.
One blazing summer evening, the sunset especially golden, a second-grade girl in an ill-fitting, oversized uniform and shabby shoes hid in a corner after school. Only when all the students were gone and the playground was quiet did she sneak to the statue.
Most children at the school came from working-class families nearby, but Wang Rong was among the poorest. She was often bullied.
Just like today—she’d been teased for her shoes being full of holes, and was gloomy all day until this moment.
Her pale little face looked up at the statue bathed in golden light, her big black eyes filled with resolve.
“Hello, Holy Mother. I’m Wang Rong. I waited until everyone left so you could hear me clearly.”
Wang Rong was proud of her cleverness. She always thought that with everyone babbling prayers all at once, the Holy Mother couldn’t possibly listen. She wanted to be the only one seen and heard.
She knelt, hands together with a tiny white flower, gazing up at the statue’s gentle smile, and prayed sincerely.
“Holy Mother, please let me grow up to marry a very, very rich husband, so I can buy whatever I want, live the best life, and never be looked down on!”
After wishing, second-grade Wang Rong pulled a safety pin from her skirt pocket. Gritting her teeth, she pricked her finger, and a drop of blood welled up.
“Holy Mother, if you really grant my wish, I will—offer you my soul!” the little girl declared, squeezing a drop of blood onto the flower in her other hand.
No one had taught her this way of offering; she’d made it up herself. Watching her classmates’ childish prayers, she felt she had to be special, more serious, more valuable, to get the goddess’s attention. Wang Rong loved to stand out.
To her delight, it worked—she was immediately answered.
A miracle happened: the red blood spread instantly over the white petals, turning the flower red.
“Holy Mother has shown her power! Thank you!”
Overjoyed, Wang Rong wrapped the little red flower in a handkerchief and tucked it in her bag, bowing several times to the statue before happily running home.
She treasured the red flower in a small tin box under her pillow. But when she moved in third grade, the box was lost.
Though she continued praying at the statue after school until she graduated, the vow she’d made that golden summer night gradually faded from memory.
“You remember now,” Long’er said.
Wang Rong bowed her head in silence. Long’er didn’t press her, even loosening her grip. The two sat in quiet for a long while.
“I… I was just a child then…” At last Wang Rong broke the silence.
Long’er smiled.
“Yes, you were a child then, so you were honest. That was the truest version of you. But the point is—today, you’re still the same as back then. You still think your soul is less important than money and power, right?”
Wang Rong stopped struggling, stopped arguing. Her body and mind, exhausted by defeat, left her only able to bow and murmur, “Then… what do you want from me? I’m already dead—what more do you want…?”
Long’er smiled faintly, still in giant form, now sitting cross-legged, holding Wang Rong’s hand on her knee, one elbow on the other knee, chin resting on her hand. “I really can’t do much. If I were truly a devil, I might eat your soul. But do you know? Your soul stinks, it’s toxic—even a devil couldn’t eat it.”
Long’er looked genuinely troubled. “Since you no longer have a free soul, you can’t reincarnate like other spirits. But if I just leave you, your nature means you’ll only cause more harm. So…”
Wang Rong’s eyes were empty, her mind abandoning thought. Even Long’er’s voice seemed to fade. She still couldn’t believe any of this was real—only that it was a long, strange nightmare.
“I’ll first take back the spiritual power I lent you, then seal you again. That’s all.” She sighed, sitting upright. In her hand, Wang Rong shrank smaller and smaller. Then Long’er opened her small, cherry lips.
To Wang Rong, it was a bloody, gaping maw.
The terror and despair were so overwhelming, Wang Rong couldn’t make a sound.
Silently, she fell into the abyss.
Long’er swallowed Wang Rong in one gulp. Soon after, golden light radiated from her, and she spat Wang Rong back out. With a splat, the once proud woman—both in life and death—now lay limp on the floor like a heap of mud.
Wang Rong lay spread-eagle on the black-and-white tiles, soaked to the skin.
With the spiritual power she’d borrowed from Long’er gone, her beautiful appearance vanished, leaving her wrinkled, decrepit—an old woman of eighty.
Her eyes were unfocused. But lying there, head tilted back, she happened to see the huge mural facing the chapel doors.
A winged youth, proudly smiling, soared toward the sun, with rolling sea beneath.
Huh? When did this mural appear?
When I killed the Holy Mother, why didn’t I notice it?
…
Wang Rong drifted in her thoughts, unaware that Long’er, now back to normal size, was quietly approaching…
End of Episode 8
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“The Sequel of Wang Rong: A Journey of Revenge in an Upside-Down Dream”102Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡRQaDObZgRE
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