Xinyi stepped through the front door, and immediately, the air turned heavy.
The warmth she felt at the convenience store faded the moment she set foot inside.
Nothing had changed.
The walls were the same. The cold silence was the same.
And so were they.
Her parents sat in the living room, neither acknowledging her return. The television was on, playing some dull news broadcast, but neither of them seemed to be watching.
Xinyi hesitated in the entryway. She half-expected them to say something. Maybe another scolding. Another cutting remark.
But they didn’t.
They didn’t even look at her.
She let out a slow breath, slipping off her shoes.
Somehow, the silence was worse.
She made her way toward the stairs, hoping to disappear into her room without a word—
“Xinyi,” her mother’s voice cut through the air.
She froze.
The tone was casual, too casual. She turned her head slightly. “Yes?”
Her mother didn’t look up from her magazine. “You’ve been going out a lot lately.”
Xinyi said nothing.
She could already tell where this was going.
“Meeting someone?” her mother continued, flipping a page as if the conversation was of no real importance. “Or are you sneaking around again?”
Xinyi’s fingers curled into her sleeves.
She should have expected this.
Of course, her mother wouldn’t let last night go so easily.
“I went to the convenience store,” she replied, keeping her voice even.
Her father scoffed. “That’s what you call it?”
Xinyi clenched her jaw. “I bought food.”
“Because we don’t feed you enough?”
She swallowed back the bitterness rising in her throat.
If she argued, it would only escalate. If she tried to explain, they wouldn’t listen.
So she said nothing.
Her mother gave a small, knowing hum. “You’re not very good at hiding things, Xinyi.”
Xinyi forced herself to move, step by step, up the stairs.
She didn’t want to hear any more.
She didn’t want to be here.
She reached her bedroom and shut the door, pressing her forehead against it for a moment before exhaling slowly.
She was so tired.
Not just physically—mentally. Emotionally.
She dropped her bag on the floor and collapsed onto her bed, staring up at the ceiling.
For a while, she just lay there, unmoving.
Then, her phone buzzed.
She hesitated before reaching for it, half-expecting another passive-aggressive message from her mother, but—
Zhao Chen
She blinked.
It wasn’t anything serious. Just a simple message.
Zhao Chen: You alive, princess?
She stared at it for a long moment, then exhaled through her nose, the corners of her lips twitching upward just slightly.
She typed a reply.
Deleted it.
Typed another.
Deleted that too.
After a few more seconds of hesitation, she finally sent—
Xinyi: Barely.
A reply came almost instantly.
Zhao Chen: Tragic. Guess I’ll have to send flowers to your funeral.
She huffed a quiet, almost amused breath.
It wasn’t much. It wasn’t deep or meaningful.
But it was something.
And for tonight, that was enough.
The next few days blurred together.
She kept her head down, went through the motions, and ignored the weight pressing on her chest. Her parents barely spoke to her. When they did, it was either dismissive or laced with criticism.
She didn’t text Zhao Chen again. And he didn’t send another message either.
Maybe she was overthinking it. Maybe he was just busy.
But for some reason, the silence bothered her.
And then—
Everything changed.
It started like any other day.
Xinyi had just gotten home from school when she heard raised voices coming from inside.
Her parents. Arguing.
Again.
She sighed, rubbing her temples before stepping inside. She was prepared to walk straight to her room and avoid it entirely—
But then—
A third voice.
One she hadn’t heard in years.
Her heart stilled.
She stepped into the living room—
And froze.
There, standing in the middle of the room, was Li Jun.
Her brother.
Her knees buckled. The world tilted.
She barely registered the way she dropped to the floor, barely processed the way his eyes widened as he turned toward her.
“Xinyi—”
She couldn’t breathe.
Couldn’t think.
He was here.
After all this time.
Her vision blurred, emotions crashing into her all at once—relief, anger, sadness, confusion.
He left her.
He left her alone in this house, in this nightmare.
And now he was just back?
Her lips parted, but no words came out.
Li Jun took a step toward her, his expression unreadable. Then, in a voice quieter, softer than she remembered, he said—
“I’m taking you with me.”