Twins of Yin and Yang

Hardly anyone could tell that Xiao Ran and I were twins. She was fair-skinned, tall, and willowy—top of her class, the kind of girl people praised without thinking. I was the opposite. Dark-skinned, chubby, a dropout collecting dust at home. Since we were little, our parents told everyone I was just a distant relative’s child from the countryside. But the truth is—Xiao Ran and I used to look exactly the same. That changed when we were two. A wandering Taoist passed by our house one day, asking for a bowl of water. Xiao Ran and I were outside, playing with pebbles in the sun. He caught sight of us and stopped in his tracks. “Twins?” he asked, eyebrows arching in surprise. My mother beamed. “Yes, they are.” He clapped his hands, delighted. “Not just any twins! These two are yin-yang twins—rare as a comet! Once in a hundred years!” Twins of opposing energies. When one flourishes, the other fades. That, he said, was the curse—and wonder—of yin-yang twins. And from that day on, life seemed determined to prove him right. If Xiao Ran got sick, I’d suddenly feel better than ever. If she gained weight, I’d inexplicably slim down. If her grades dipped, mine would soar—only for hers to climb again as mine plummeted. It was eerie. And for me, it was the start of a slow descent into darkness. Our parents were obsessed with appearances. Status. Being admired. They looked at other people’s brilliant, gifted children—then looked at their own two average daughters—and felt nothing but shame and jealousy. So, when we turned five, they made a choice. They decided to sacrifice one daughter, in order to mold the other into their perfect, golden girl. And I—Xiao Ying—was the one they chose to leave behind. To keep Xiao Ran’s skin fair and flawless, I was forced to stand outside under the scorching midday sun every single day. Lately, the pain on my face had gotten unbearable. That’s why I’d secretly used a bit of toner—to soothe the burning. I never expected her to catch me. Now, my vision swam with black spots, and my head spun from the heat. I was on the verge of collapsing when the front door creaked open behind me. “Hey, fat pig. Dinner.” It was Xiao Ran. Relief washed over me. I turned slowly and trudged back into the house. There was already a meal waiting for me at the table—a massive bowl, piled high like slop for livestock. They always forced me to eat obscene amounts of food. So that Xiao Ran could stay slim. They wanted to send her to a performing arts school. They dreamed of her making it into the entertainment industry—becoming a household name, a dazzling star. Tomorrow was the mock entrance exam. We heard some scouts from top schools might be there in person to pick out candidates. Everyone buzzed around her all day, coddling and prepping her like she was royalty. Meanwhile, I scrubbed dishes in the kitchen, cleaned up after them—transparent, unnoticed, like a ghost haunting the corners of my own home. That night, Xiao Ran’s expression darkened. She frowned and snapped at our mother. “It’s your fault! You insisted on buying me that stupid ice cream! Now I think I’m getting sick!” “I’ve got that exam tomorrow—if I mess it up because of a cold, I swear I’ll quit school!” Our mom, flustered, fussed over her and rushed off to find medicine. Just then, Dad walked in and blinked at the scene. “What’s going on?” he asked. “She’s running a slight fever,” Mom explained. “I’m worried it’ll affect her exam tomorrow.” Dad stood there, thinking for a moment. Then his eyes lit up, like he’d had a brilliant idea. “No need to panic! We’ve got the perfect remedy, don’t we?” And then—he turned to look at me. In that instant, the whole family’s eyes locked on me. I instinctively took a step back, my heart pounding like a war drum. “Mom! Let me go! Mom, please!” I screamed in terror, thrashing wildly. But my mother held me down with terrifying strength, her grip unrelenting. She pinned me to the bottom of the bathtub as icy cold water poured over my head. Turning to my father, she shouted, “Did the ice get here yet?” “This damn girl’s always had a strong constitution. Without ice, she won’t get sick!” They were trying to make me sick—so Xiao Ran could get better. I struggled, choking, tears blurring my vision. My mother offered a careless kind of comfort: “You’re the older sister. What’s wrong with helping your little sister?” “When she becomes a big star and starts making money, aren’t you the one who’ll enjoy the good life?” No. I knew full well how brutal the entertainment industry could be—how impossible its standards for looks and weight. If Xiao Ran really got in, my life would only become a thousand times worse. Then came the ice—poured straight onto me in heavy, merciless chunks. The shock knocked the breath out of me. My body went stiff, my lips turned pale. I shivered uncontrollably. They tied me up and left me like that, shivering in the freezing bathtub. I had no idea how long it lasted. At some point, I heard Xiao Ran’s voice outside the door. “Huh… I think my fever’s gone.” ... The next morning, they took her to the exam center. I couldn’t even get out of bed. The forced cold had sunk deep into my bones. I was burning and freezing all at once, my whole body heavy with illness. Somewhere in the haze of fever, I thought I heard a knock at the window. I lived in the basement, with only a half window at ground level. Sometimes the neighborhood kids played outside and peered in. I opened my eyes and turned my head. It was Beibei—the little girl from next door. She knocked on the glass and called softly, “Yingying-jie, are you okay?” I struggled upright and opened the window. “I’m sick today,” I whispered. “I can’t come out and play.” Her little face fell, and she turned to run off. I waited a while, expecting her to be gone for good. I was just about to shut the window when I heard the quick patter of footsteps. Beibei was back—this time with an armful of medicine bottles. “I found some medicine at home. Yingying-jie, see if any of these help?” My heart swelled. My eyes stung. In this whole neighborhood, no one ever paid me any attention because of how I looked. Only Beibei still treated me like a friend. “Thank you,” I said softly. She stayed to chat for a bit, then stood and glanced around nervously. “What is it?” I asked. She crouched down and whispered, “My mom said there are human traffickers in this area. She told me not to play outside too long.” “I think I have to go home now.” I gave her a tired smile. “Okay, go on then. Be careful.” After she left, the basement fell silent again. I turned and stared out through the little window, her words echoing in my mind. Human traffickers. They probably liked young, pretty girls most. It wasn’t until past nine that they came back—Mom, Dad, and Xiao Ran. They were laughing, chatting, glowing with harmony. Mom knocked on my door, and under the warm ceiling light, her face seemed a little softer than usual. “Here,” she said, holding out a large bag of KFC. “We got you something to eat.” I stared at her, a little stunned. She smiled at me, really smiled. “Your sister’s been shortlisted by several schools! She might actually become a star!” I took the bag, unsure what to say, staring down at my feet. It had been so long since she spoke to me this kindly. She must’ve sensed the awkwardness too. She reached out—paused for a beat when her hand was near my head—and then changed course, patting me lightly on the shoulder. “Yingying, your sister wouldn’t have come this far without you.” “You’ve worked really hard all these years.” Then she fussed over me for a bit—asked if I was feeling better, if I’d eaten enough. I just stared at her, expressionless. She didn’t linger. After a moment, she turned and went upstairs. Not long after, their happy laughter echoed down from above—one perfect little family. This… this was reality. I sat on my bed clutching the KFC bag, the only light in my room coming from a flickering desk lamp. … Later that night, I woke up needing the bathroom. The living room was dark, but Xiao Ran’s bedroom door was glowing faintly under the c***k—her light still on. I was about to keep walking… but something made me pause. And then I found myself drifting toward her door. Inside, I heard her voice, half-whining: “Mom! I heard you talking to Xiao Ying earlier! You like her more now, don’t you?” That voice—still as entitled and petulant as ever. Like? I thought of the bag of greasy fried chicken. That was what they called like? Mom’s voice, by contrast, was syrup-sweet. “Ranran, how could you think that?” “You’ll always be Mommy’s favorite.” “It’s just… while I was waiting for you outside today, I heard some of the other parents talking. They said the standards for actresses are brutal these days—perfect skin, poreless, sharp shoulders, tiny waists… If you really want to be a star, you’ll have to be even more beautiful.” Each word was like a blade slicing into me. “I just wanted to keep Xiao Ying stable for now. Think about it—if she suddenly breaks and runs away, what will happen to your future?” Xiao Ran went quiet. Then, nervously: “You’re right, Mom. We can’t let her leave!” “We have to make sure she stays!” Mom sounded pleased. “Exactly. That’s why I tried to comfort her.” “You didn’t see it—her disgusting pig face, how revolting she looked.” “And that greasy, matted hair—ugh. I couldn’t even bring myself to touch it.” Xiao Ran giggled. I was shaking. But somehow, I didn’t cry. I backed away, step by step, until I reached the door to the basement again. I lay down on my narrow bed, my mind clearer than it had ever been. And I made a decision. They don’t want me to leave? Then fine. Let Xiao Ran be the one to go.