A scream, sharp and absolute, tore through the silence, instantly catapulting the young man out of a deep, much-needed rest.
"Ah!"
The noise was so piercing that Zhou Yi, still half-trapped in the pleasant fog of sleep, lost his balance entirely, tumbling off the edge of his bed with a spectacular, bone-jarring thud onto the floor.
He lay there for a stunned moment, rubbing the back of his head. Any pleasant dream was instantly scorched away by irritation. Zhou Yi, a young man who prized his rare holiday sleep, immediately rolled up the sleeves of his pajamas, his gaze narrowing. Whoever the culprit was, they were about to receive a masterclass in holiday discipline.
But the shriek came again—a ragged, choked sound, followed by frantic sobbing.
"Ah!"
He was already on his feet, adrenaline replacing annoyance. Zhou Yi strode to the adjoining door—the one plastered with childish teddy bear stickers—and hammered on the wood.
"Charisse Ferguson! If you don't open this door right now and give me a legitimate reason for shattering my eardrums, I swear, I'll personally appeal to the heavens about the serious mistake of disturbing my sleep!" he barked, his voice loud and demanding.
"Don't come in! Go away!" a girl's desperate, tear-soaked voice whimpered back.
That plea, heavy with genuine terror, immediately snapped the fragile thread of Zhou Yi's composure. The anger evaporated, replaced by a cold, sharp dread.
"What in the blazes is happening, Charisse? Open the door, now! I'm your brother, I need to know what's wrong!"
"No, no, go away! I don't want you to look at me!" The crying inside the room ratcheted up, quickly becoming muffled, suggesting she had frantically buried herself under a pillow or a blanket.
The anxiety gripping Zhou Yi intensified. His mother was long gone, already clocking in at work. It was just him, the sixteen-year-old older brother, and his distressed younger sister, Charisse. He had to see her. He had to know.
In his panic, Zhou Yi abandoned all thought of civilized behavior or protecting property. He wrapped both hands around the firmly locked brass doorknob, braced his feet, and pulled. With a loud splintering sound, the tight lock gave way, tearing the door open and slamming it against the wall.
The girl's room was a typical shrine of youth—a battlefield of scattered dolls and plush toys. But their owner, usually so meticulously neat, was now huddled on the bed like a tiny, cornered animal, aggressively cocooned deep beneath her covers.
"Darling, what happened? Charisse, tell me quickly," Zhou Yi urged, his voice softening with concern as he approached the bed.
He reached down and yanked the heavy blanket back abruptly, ready to hug his sister, only to freeze.
"By the heavens... what in the actual universe is going on?!" he gasped, the words barely escaping his throat.
The little sister he knew, the one from his memories just moments ago, had undergone a terrifying metamorphosis. Her familiar brown hair was now a shocking, rich wine-red. Her clear blue eyes had shifted into an unnerving, glowing emerald green. Furthermore, strange, symmetrical patterns—marks that were clearly biological, not painted or drawn—had appeared tracing the lines beneath her eyes.
But even that wasn't the most shocking detail. Charisse's ears were no longer rounded and human; they were delicately pointed, like those of a mythical elf.
An elf? The sardonic part of Zhou Yi's mind tried to crack a joke about fairytales, but the deeper, more logical part screamed the truth. This was no fairy tale. Something monumental, something catastrophic, had just occurred.
A short time later, the television droned in the background of their lavish living room, its volume lowered to a tense murmur.
"...We must believe that Mutants, this rogue species lurking among us, pose an existential threat to all of humanity," a military spokesperson declared passionately, his face plastered across the screen. "Their unique, unpredictable superpowers not only disrupt the natural order but also present a massive, uncontrolled risk to our public security and social stability. We implore every citizen of this nation to remain vigilant against the Mutants around them."
Zhou Yi, who had always viewed such rhetoric with detached intellectual scorn, now found the man's face repulsive. A threat? He tightened his grip on Charisse, who still trembled in his arms. He looked past her red and pointy ears, past her panicked demeanor, and met the eyes of his mother, Zhou Lan, with a gaze of absolute resolve.
"The situation is simple," he stated, his voice firm and unwavering. "Even if Charisse has undergone this change—even if she is what they call a Mutant—she is still our sister, our daughter, and the most important family member we have. For her safety, I think the time has come to sell up and move to New York."
Zhou Lan, a U.S.-born Chinese woman, was strikingly young and beautiful. Her youthful life had been one of contrasts: marrying a Chinese military officer and having Zhou Yi, only for the man to vanish during a mission, leaving her a single mother. Eight years later, when Zhou Yi was eight, she found love again with Anthony Ferguson, a Los Angeles banker. Less than a year after their marriage, Charisse was born.
Tragedy followed quickly; Mr. Ferguson perished in a plane crash. The financial silver lining, however, was substantial: Zhou Lan's successful high-fashion career, coupled with a generous inheritance and massive insurance payout. This wealth was later exponentially amplified by Zhou Yi's shrewd, early stock market advice. His family, thankfully, had the luxury of choice.
Zhou Lan, still stroking Charisse's unfamiliar red hair, didn't argue the financial logistics.
"I understand that moving is essential for her protection," she said, looking up at her son with a furrowed brow. "But why New York, Yi? We have countless options, safer, more remote places."
"I know what you're suggesting," Zhou Yi sighed, gently adjusting his sister. "If we go too far West, it might be secluded, but Charisse would be isolated her whole life. She needs to integrate. She needs to understand her abilities. Relatively speaking, I want her to find acceptance. That's why I want to take her to Professor Charles's Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters."
He had previously explained the concept of the school to his mother: a specialized academy for Mutant teenagers dedicated to cultivating their abilities and teaching them to blend seamlessly into human society. For their desperate situation, it was the only clear beacon of hope.
"Alright, Yi. If you believe this is the best path for you and for Charisse, I agree," Zhou Lan conceded, spreading her hands in a gesture of trust. She gently took Charisse from him. "Oh, my poor little darling, you must be so frightened. Don't worry. Mommy and Big Brother will shield you from everything. Come on, let's go rest. Everything will look brighter when the sun rises."
As Zhou Lan led Charisse into her own bedroom, Zhou Yi felt the immense weight of his mother's faith. Ever since Charisse's birth, he had filled the role of both older brother and surrogate father. Despite his youth, his maturity and meticulous thinking had made him the true stabilizing force in the family.
Zhou Yi waited until the door was firmly shut. He then turned to the chattering television and, in a flash of impatience, gripped the remote control. He didn't just turn it off; he clenched his hand, and the plastic casing instantly shattered into countless fragments onto the rug.
He ignored the mess, staring intently at the dark, reflective screen.
"Mutants... the X-Men... and the Brotherhood," he muttered to his own reflection. His eyes, usually cool and calculating, seemed to momentarily flare with a deep, unnatural light. "It seems interacting with the whole lot of you is no longer a choice."
In this life, things he had lost and fought to regain—his family, his peace—would never be allowed to be destroyed by the schemes of others.
Financial arrangements were executed with ruthless speed. Zhou Yi quickly liquidated several assets, moving funds with the efficiency of a veteran broker. Through a discreet agent, he secured two excellent apartments on the Upper East Side of New York, overlooking Central Park. Though the prices were astronomical, they were well within the means of a teenager who had shrewdly sold off most of his volatile IT stocks.
He retained only significant shares in giants like Stark Industries and Osborn Company, considering them a strategic hedge, before massively de-risking his portfolio.
With the finances settled, he focused on the itinerary. While he desperately wanted to rush Charisse to the Xavier School, he knew a Mutant with such visible, exposed physical traits was a magnet for unwanted attention. The idea of military experimentation, a concept often dismissed as paranoia, now felt terrifyingly real.
Air travel was immediately ruled out. Without a private plane, Charisse's identity would be fully exposed during the rigorous security checks.
After careful consideration, Zhou Yi settled on buying a luxury RV. It was slow, cumbersome, and expensive, but it offered two invaluable necessities: safety and absolute privacy. Those two points trumped speed entirely.
Once the hardest logistical problem was solved, the remaining issues quickly fell into place. Charisse's current state made saying goodbye to friends impossible, and frankly, Zhou Yi couldn't care less about her trivial social circle. Zhou Lan's flexible fashion career meant she had no deep ties she couldn't sever.
As for Zhou Yi himself, possessing the memories of a past life made him feel utterly disconnected from his current peers. He regarded the social network he had cultivated as entirely disposable.
The decision was final: they would depart at dawn. When the sun rose tomorrow, their former neighbors might scratch their heads, finding that the Ferguson-Zhou family had simply vanished. This was the only way to ensure the safety of the solar child resting in the next room.