Qian'ai stormed out of the inn, his mind a whirlpool of frustration. He scanned the streets with practiced sharpness until his gaze found Cheng Yi standing at the riverbank—lost in thought, his silhouette distant and detached. A mischievous grin tugged at Qian'ai's lips as he crept closer. In one fluid motion, he lunged forward, wrapping his arms around Cheng Yi's neck in a playful grip.
Startled, Cheng Yi stiffened, almost stumbling in surprise. Qian'ai's laughter rang out, echoing in the evening air like a sudden burst of light.
"Yo! Cheng Yi, lost in thought again?" Qian'ai teased.
Cheng Yi's smile was small, a touch awkward, before he glanced back at the river, his voice barely above a whisper. "I… have a lot on my mind."
Qian'ai's smile faded, his usual playfulness giving way to an unexpected seriousness. He loosened his grip and studied Cheng Yi's face with a quiet intensity. "Are you sure you're alright? Yun Yuhua mentioned something about trouble at home—I just had to check on you."
Cheng Yi met his gaze, and a heavy silence fell between them. Though his mind spun, the mention of Yun Yuhua stirred something deeper—a mix of gratitude and a quiet, unsettling ache that settled in his chest. "Yun Yuhua?" he managed to murmur.
"Yeah," Qian'ai replied with a gentle smirk, "she's got a sharp eye—she noticed you've been lonely… and maybe a little shy."
Cheng Yi's cheeks flushed, and a faint smile tugged at his lips. "She's very kind."
Qian'ai arched an eyebrow, a teasing smile playing on his face. "So, you like her, huh?"
Cheng Yi's face burned a deeper shade of crimson as he quickly looked away. "I—I just said she's kind."
Qian'ai chuckled softly and then added, "Our Baba always treated her like a princess. Taught her how to care for others. She got that from our mother—Ma was… different."
A brief silence settled between them as the earlier laughter faded like the last streaks of sunlight on the river. Qian'ai swallowed hard before continuing, "She shielded me once. I still don't know how she found that strength. Her body was so small, yet she stood between me and death as if she could stop it."
His voice grew distant, his gaze wandering far beyond the riverbank. "I still see her face—bruised, bloodied, but smiling as if everything would be okay. That smile haunts me more than the blood, more than the fear."
Cheng Yi remained quiet, the weight of the memory pressing into the space between them.
"She died protecting me," Qian'ai said, barely above a whisper. "And I… I just stood there. Too scared to move." A flicker of guilt tightened his jaw as he forced a small, crooked smile. "Sorry. That was heavy—I didn't mean to dump it all on you."
"Qian'ai?" Cheng Yi's voice cut gently through the silence, steady but firm.
Qian'ai blinked, shaken from his thoughts, his face twisting into a small, awkward chuckle. He sighed, the weight of the past still pressing on him. "She… a man appeared out of nowhere. When he saw me, he snapped—like he wasn't even human. His eyes were empty, like a monster's, and his movements were erratic, wild… I saw his face that night—twisted, like something out of a nightmare I can't shake." He paused, his eyes darkening. "There's a flicker in your eyes—almost as if you carry a hint of that darkness. But you… you're nothing like him. You're kind. Gentle. The darkness isn't yours to bear."
Cheng Yi smiled softly, unaware of the dark reflection linking him to the man who had tormented Qian'ai's family. "I'm glad I'm not like that evil man," he said with a quiet chuckle.
Qian'ai couldn't help but laugh, the tension easing from his chest. They remained there, talking quietly until the sky darkened and night settled in around them.
Later, the warm, comforting air inside the inn felt like a distant memory as Cheng Yi's eyes lingered on Yun Yuhua, who was assisting Ruqi at the back. A quiet storm brewed within him—a tender, yet unsettling counterpoint to the chaos of his day. When their gazes met, her small, welcoming smile gave him a moment's respite. Despite the tumult of his thoughts, her smile radiated a warmth that spoke louder than any words.
The evening carried on with a soft ease, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Cheng Yi allowed himself to relax in her company. But as the night deepened and he stepped outside to return home, a wave of unease replaced that fleeting peace. He had hoped to keep the turmoil of the day hidden from Madam Lui, but the sharp edge of her gaze and the rising tension between them weighed heavier with each step.
Meanwhile, Hao Jian lurked in the shadows. That night, he returned to the inn like a predator in waiting, his presence seeping into the darkness. The dim lantern light barely touched him—his movements slow and deliberate, like a creature stalking its prey. Yun Yuhua felt that cold, suffocating presence crawl up her spine before she even saw him. Her body tensed, and her gaze was drawn toward the entrance. There he stood—his lips curling into something not quite a smile, his vacant eyes drinking her in like a hunter eyeing its prey. The night itself seemed to recoil from him, heavy with unspoken terror—another nightmare on the horizon.
Back at the estate, the pressure in Cheng Yi's home had been mounting like a heavy storm cloud. Each breath felt constrained by his parents' relentless demands. That evening, after a heated exchange with Madam Lui—punctuated by slamming hands, harsh words, and a stinging slap—Cheng Yi walked away, his chest burning with shame and unresolved anger.
Hao Jian, meanwhile, spent his nights as a silent watcher in the market, lurking in the shadows like a predator on the hunt. He stalked Yun Yuhua with unsettling stillness, his gaze always cold, always hungry. She felt his presence before she even saw him—like a dark cloud suffocating the air. Each time she caught sight of him, the weight of his unspoken desire sent a shiver down her spine.
The tension grew unbearable. Yun Yuhua begged her brothers to close the inn's doors earlier, but their response only deepened her fear. "That man in the night… even if we close early, he'll still be there. And now, he won't just be watching—he'll be waiting. Waiting with eyes that want to take something from you."
Later that evening, the tension at home reached its breaking point. "Enough, Ma!" Cheng Yi's voice cracked, raw and trembling. "You're pushing me too far!"
Madam Lui's eyes narrowed, her tone icy. "You are to stay! You'll meet other suitors. My cousin will—"
"Ma!"
He slammed his hand onto the table, the sound echoing like thunder. "I haven't even done anything yet! I'm not ready for marriage!"
A swift, stinging slap cut through the clamor. Though he did not physically flinch, something inside him shattered.
"Don't say such things!" she hissed. "You mean to marry that girl? I will never allow her in this house!"
His fists clenched, but his voice fell low. "She's just a friend. And even if she weren't, it's not your decision."
For a brief moment, he saw shock flicker in his mother's eyes before her familiar wall of indifference returned. With a heavy heart, he turned and walked away, chest burning with anger and regret.
Outside, the cold night air struck him like a slap. His throat ached, and every step resonated with the echo of his mother's disapproving face. He hadn't wanted to hurt her, but he couldn't keep surrendering every piece of himself. He didn't cry then—yet the shame settled in his gut like a stone as he made his way to the inn, his only refuge from the storm of his life.
There, Yun Yuhua found him sitting alone in the yard, lost in thought, his eyes clouded with unspoken pain. She approached gently and placed a steady hand on his shoulder.
"Yun Yuhua," he murmured, his voice weary with emotion.
"Is everything okay?" she asked softly, deep concern in her tone. "You look like you're losing yourself."
He managed a weak, self-deprecating smile. "I don't know how much longer I can keep it together. My parents… they've lost themselves completely."
Without a word, she squeezed his hand. "No one is perfect, Cheng Yi. You don't have to hold it all inside."
Her touch eased the weight in his chest, and for the first time in weeks, he allowed himself to feel the raw emotion that had been building. "Thank you…" he whispered, nearly broken by the burden he carried.
Her quiet, unconditional support was a balm that night.
Later, Cheng Yi returned home to find Madam Lui still seated in her room, her face etched with tension. Hesitantly, he knocked and stepped inside.
"I'm sorry, Ma," he said softly, his voice heavy with remorse. "I didn't mean to take my frustration out on you. I've been losing my mind… and I didn't know how to handle it."
Her eyes widened in a mix of sorrow and disbelief as she looked at him. For the first time, she saw him—not just as her son, but as someone carrying a burden too heavy to bear alone. The dam of suppressed emotion broke, and she wept, her tears flowing unchecked.
Cheng Yi rushed to her side and held her tightly. "I never wanted to hurt you," he whispered, his voice cracking as he fought back his own tears. That embrace, fragile yet transformative, marked the first step toward healing the fractures in their strained relationship—even as the shadows of the past and present lingered.
Meanwhile, Hao Jian's darkness grew with every passing day. His mind, already twisted and unstable, began to unravel further as he watched Cheng Yi pull away. Every moment of indecision, every hesitant glance toward Yun Yuhua ignited in him a possessive, obsessive fury. His thoughts spiraled, fixating on Yun Yuhua. If Cheng Yi wouldn't have her, Hao Jian resolved that he would take her for himself—no matter the cost. The idea of her being with someone else, of losing control over her, gnawed at him like a deep, insidious hunger.
Night after night, his obsession grew darker, until he was consumed by the belief that Yun Yuhua—like any other object—should be his to possess. If Cheng Yi couldn't win her love, then Hao Jian would force it from her. Every failed attempt to approach her only fanned the flames of his dark desire, turning his obsession into a festering wound.
He had tried subtlety, but she resisted him at every turn. The realization that Yun Yuhua would never come willingly, not with Cheng Yi constantly by her side offering love and protection, twisted his insides further. Cheng Yi's devotion to Madam Lui had become the barrier he could not ignore.
A grim thought settled in his mind: Cheng Yi—his own blood—was the obstacle. And if Cheng Yi wouldn't relinquish her, then his solution was simple: Cheng Yi would need to be removed from the equation. No longer would he be a threat to Hao Jian's will.
But another problem loomed: his wife. Her loyalty had become a chain, a reminder of ties he no longer wanted. To her, he was but a shadow of the man he once was, and she would never understand the full force of his desires. She had to be dealt with, or her presence would continue to bind him.
With cold precision, Hao Jian set his plans into motion. His mind had no room for mercy—there would be no boundaries. Every decision, every action from that point onward, would push him further into the abyss.