The rain had eased by morning, but the air still carried the weight of last night's fear. Meilin barely slept. Every creak of the floorboards made her heart jump, every shadow felt like a threat.
But when she saw Xiaoya sleeping soundly between them, her tiny hands clutching the wooden bird, courage slowly filled the cracks in her chest.
Rui was already up, standing by the desk. Papers were spread across it — her father's journals, yellowed and fragile, saved from the fire by some strange twist of fate.
> "You found them," she whispered.
> "In the storage room," Rui said. "They were hidden behind the old piano. Your father must have wanted to protect them."
Meilin sat beside him. Her fingers brushed over the brittle pages, tracing the faint handwriting she hadn't seen since childhood. Every word was a memory — her father's laughter, his late nights in the study, the smell of ink and coffee.
But one phrase caught her eye, written three times in bold strokes:
"Project Phoenix."
Her pulse quickened. "This was the project they wanted."
Rui leaned closer. "Phoenix — rebirth through creation. It wasn't just a formula… it was regeneration."
Meilin looked at him, her voice trembling. "Regeneration?"
> "Think of it — medicine that heals at the cellular level," Rui explained. "Your father discovered something that could rewrite human recovery itself. But if it falls into the wrong hands…"
> "…they could control life itself," Meilin finished softly.
They exchanged a heavy glance. Then Rui turned another page, revealing a sketch — a ring-shaped seal carved with an emblem. Beneath it, her father's final note:
> "The code rests with the heart of ashes."
Meilin frowned. "The heart of ashes… what does that mean?"
Rui rubbed his temples. "Could be metaphorical. Or a location."
Just then, Xiaoya stirred awake, sitting up with sleepy eyes. "Mommy? Daddy? Why are you whispering?"
Meilin smiled softly, pulling her close. "We're just talking about Grandpa's old work."
Xiaoya's gaze drifted to the notebook, her finger pointing at the sketch. "I saw that before."
Both adults froze.
> "Where?" Rui asked gently.
> "In the garden," Xiaoya said. "It's on the big stone near the tree Daddy planted."
Meilin's breath caught. "The cherry tree…"
Without another word, they rushed outside, rain still dripping from the branches. The earth was damp, the petals scattered like tears.
Beneath the roots of the tree, partially hidden by moss, was a stone slab engraved with the same symbol from the notebook.
Rui knelt down, wiping the mud away. The carving shimmered faintly in the light — and in the center, a small compartment clicked open.
Inside was a thin, metal disk — glowing faintly blue.
> "The key," Rui murmured. "The missing piece of the formula."
Meilin's eyes filled with awe and fear. "My father hid it here… right under our feet."
Rui looked up at her, voice grave. "Now we know what they're after. And they'll stop at nothing to get it."
Meilin's grip tightened around the disk. "Then they'll have to go through me first."
From the distant road, the low hum of a black c
ar echoed through the morning mist.
Rui's hand found hers. "They've found us."