The house was silent after Liwei's departure, but Meilin's mind roared louder than any storm.
His words wouldn't leave her — "Ask him why your house really burned."
She couldn't sleep. Couldn't think. Every time she looked at Rui, the doubt deepened.
By dawn, she rose from the bed and went to the old study. Rui had forbidden anyone to enter, claiming it held "unfinished business." But today, she didn't care about rules or promises.
The key was still under the flower vase — where he always hid it.
The door creaked open. Dust hung thick in the air, and the faint scent of old paper filled the room. The desk was covered in files, some open, some sealed with red tape. Her hand trembled as she reached for the one marked Incident Report — House Fire, Year 20XX.
Inside were police records, witness statements, and photographs she had never seen before. The final page bore Rui's handwriting — messy, frantic.
> "Cover Liwei's name. Redirect the blame. She must never know."
Her heart clenched. Her vision blurred.
He had done it. He had buried the truth — for her.
She stumbled back, gripping the edge of the desk. "Why, Rui?" she whispered. "Why couldn't you just tell me?"
Footsteps approached behind her. She turned sharply — Rui stood in the doorway, his face pale, eyes filled with the quiet devastation of a man who already knew what she'd found.
"So it's true," Meilin said, her voice breaking.
He closed his eyes. "I was going to tell you."
"When?" she demanded. "After I found out on my own? After I hated you all over again?"
He took a step forward. "You don't understand—"
"Then make me understand!" she cried. "You let me live in a lie. You let an innocent man die with my curse still on his name!"
Rui's control cracked. "And if I hadn't, you'd be dead!"
Silence crashed between them.
He ran a hand through his hair, breathing hard. "Liwei was out of control. If I turned him in, he would've exposed everything — our father, our company. You would've been dragged down with us. I couldn't lose you."
"You already did," she said softly.
Tears burned her eyes as she turned toward the window. Outside, the morning light was breaking through the clouds, casting long shadows across the floor.
"I thought my first life ended in that fire," she said. "But maybe… it ended the moment I started loving a man who could lie so beautifully."
Rui's voice dropped to a whisper. "Everything I did was for you."
She looked back at him — tired, heartbroken, but no longer the same woman who begged for his love. "Then you didn't do it for love, Rui. You did it for control."
Her words hit harder than any flame. Rui's lips parted, but no sound came.
Meilin placed the report on the desk. "The truth always rises, just like ashes in the wind. You can't bury it forever."
She brushed past him, her steps steady even as her heart splintered with every beat.
When the door closed behind her, Rui sank to his knees, his trembling hand clutching the burnt photograph he had once hidden beneath the papers — a photo of them smiling beneath the cherry tree, before everything turned to ruin.
Outside, the wind picked up. A single sheet of paper fluttered loose from the file, landing near the window.
It bore one final line written in Rui's own hand:
> "If she ever
remembers the truth, let her hate me — as long as she lives."