Morning sunlight spilled through the curtains, painting the room in pale gold. But Meilin felt none of its warmth. Her mind was a storm — restless, uneasy, and heavy with dread.
The message from last night still burned in her memory: You're already burning.
She checked her phone again, hoping it had been some twisted dream, but the message thread was gone. Erased completely, as if it had never existed.
Jiang Rui entered quietly, his hair still damp from the shower. "You didn't sleep, did you?"
Meilin shook her head. "Couldn't."
He frowned, noticing the dark circles under her eyes. "Was it the nightmares again?"
"Something like that," she whispered.
He reached for her hand, concern softening his face. "You know you can tell me anything, right?"
Her heart ached. There were still things between them — secrets, unspoken wounds. But she forced a small smile. "I know."
Still, she didn't mention the message. Not yet. Not until she understood what it meant.
After breakfast, she dropped Yanyan off at school and drove to the outskirts of the city — to the old police archives. She had told Rui she was visiting a friend, but in truth, she was chasing ghosts.
The officer at the counter looked up. "Yes, ma'am?"
"I'm looking for files from a fire case… five years ago," she said carefully. "Name: Li Chen."
The man typed into his computer, brows furrowing. "That case was sealed. Restricted access."
Meilin's heart skipped. "Can I see who authorized it?"
He hesitated, then lowered his voice. "It was reopened last month — by someone under the name Jiang Rui."
Her stomach turned cold. "Are you sure?"
He nodded. "You can confirm with the city records, but yes. That's the name listed."
Meilin thanked him numbly and walked out, her thoughts spinning. Rui reopened the case? Why hadn't he told her?
She drove aimlessly for a while, the streets blurring past. Doubt gnawed at her. Could it be that Rui knew Li Chen was back? Or worse — was protecting him?
Her phone buzzed again. Another message.
> "Digging through ashes again, Meilin? You'll only find ghosts."
Her hands trembled. She pulled over, scanning the road. No one. Just the empty hum of traffic.
She typed back quickly:
> "Who are you?"
Three dots appeared. Then—
> "The one who never left."
Her pulse raced. The phone slipped from her hand as her reflection flashed in the rearview mirror — and for a split second, she saw Rui's face behind her.
She turned sharply, but the back seat was empty.
Back home, Rui was waiting for her in the garden, phone in hand. His expression was calm — too calm. "You were gone long," he said.
"I had things to check," she replied.
He studied her for a moment. "You've been different lately."
Meilin forced a faint smile. "Maybe I'm just remembering things I tried to forget."
He stepped closer, brushing a strand of hair from her face. "Then maybe you should stop remembering, and start trusting again."
His words sounded gentle, but they carried a strange weight — like a warning.
When he walked away, her knees nearly gave out. Her heart screamed a truth she didn't want to face:
If Rui had reopened that case… then maybe the past she'd buried wasn't as dead as she thought.
And perhaps, just per
haps — she was sleeping beside the very man who held the key to her nightmares.