The following morning felt too quiet. The storm had passed, but the air still carried the heavy scent of rain and smoke. Meilin sat by the window, her fingers tracing the rim of a teacup she'd forgotten to drink from. Her reflection looked pale, almost ghostly, in the glass.
Sleep had been impossible. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Li Chen's shadow in the garden — and heard his voice, smooth and cold, whispering about a debt she didn't remember owing.
A knock startled her. She stood quickly, expecting perhaps a neighbor or delivery. But when she opened the door, her heart stopped.
Li Chen stood there.
He looked the same — tall, self-assured, the faintest smirk playing on his lips. His dark coat was still damp, his hair slicked back, giving him the dangerous elegance she had once been helpless against.
"Miss me?" he asked softly.
"Leave," she said, gripping the door frame. "You shouldn't be here."
He tilted his head. "That's not how you used to greet me."
Her pulse raced. "That was another life."
"Exactly," he murmured, stepping closer. "And that's what this is about — another life."
Before she could react, he pulled something from his coat pocket: an old envelope, yellowed with age, edges burnt.
"You wrote this," he said. "Seven years ago."
Meilin took it hesitantly, her hands trembling as she unfolded the fragile paper. It was a letter — her handwriting unmistakable. Her breath caught as she read the words.
If anything happens to me, I owe you my life. I will return it in the next.
She remembered now. That night — the accident, the chaos, the desperation. Li Chen had saved her once, pulling her from a burning car when she thought death had come for her. She had promised him anything, her gratitude written in a moment of panic and guilt.
But gratitude turned to obsession. He wanted her to repay it with love. And when she refused, he vanished — until now.
Meilin's voice shook. "That debt was repaid long ago."
He smiled faintly. "You think a life can be repaid so easily? I gave you yours. Now I want what's mine."
"What do you mean?"
"Come with me," he said, eyes dark and unreadable. "One month. That's all. Then we'll call it even."
Her stomach twisted. "You're insane. I have a family now."
His gaze flicked toward the staircase behind her. "A family you once threw away."
Her hand trembled with anger. "Don't talk about them."
He leaned closer, his breath warm against her ear. "I'm not here to ruin you, Meilin. I'm here to remind you — you can't run from promises made to the dead."
The sound of footsteps interrupted them.
"Who's there?" Jiang Rui's calm voice drifted from the hall.
Li Chen stepped back, smirking. "Looks like we'll have to finish this another time."
Before Meilin could stop him, he was already gone, disappearing into the mist outside.
Jiang Rui appeared at the doorway, holding Xiaoya's hand. "Who were you talking to?"
Meilin forced a steady breath. "No one. Just… someone who had the wrong house."
Jiang Rui studied her face — her pale skin, her trembling hands — but said nothing. He only looked at her for a long, heavy moment before turning away.
As he led Xiaoya toward the kitchen, Meilin's legs gave way. She sank to the floor, clutching the letter against her chest.
Her voice came out as a whisper only the rain could hear. "What have I done?"
Outside, hidden among the cherry trees, Li Chen watched through the curtain of drizzle, the faintest smile on his lips.
> "You alwa
ys keep your promises, Meilin," he murmured. "Even if it kills you."