For a heartbeat, the office was nothing but rain and the sound of two people remembering how to breathe.
Mo Liuxian's hand dropped from her chin, but his eyes didn't. They moved over her face like a man trying to convince himself that a miracle could exist—and that it might destroy him.
"You died," he said finally, voice low, rough.
"I did," Bai Xueyi answered. "Once."
Lightning cracked outside. She didn't flinch this time.
He stepped closer. "How?"
"How did I die or how did I come back?"
"Both."
Her mouth twitched in something that might have been a smile, if there'd been any warmth left in it.
"You wouldn't understand either answer."
"Try me," he said again.
She studied him—the shadows under his eyes, the soot on his collar, the way his hand trembled once before he hid it behind his back. This wasn't the man who had once walked past her burning body without a backward glance.
This was someone caught between guilt and truth.
"You signed the approval," she said quietly. "For the materials that killed me."
He froze.
"That's a lie."
"Then tell me why your signature is on Aurora's purchase order."
His reply came like steel scraping concrete. "Because someone forged it."
He pulled a drawer open and threw a folder onto the desk. Inside, identical signatures—but the angles were off by millimeters. "I had handwriting analysis done this morning. Whoever did it knew my patterns but not my pressure points."
She frowned, flipping through the pages. "Han Ze."
"You know him?"
"He called himself Echo," she said. "The night I died, I heard someone shout that name through the fire."
The last of the color drained from his face. "He was my head of security. My… friend."
"He's the one trying to kill us both now."
For a long moment neither spoke. The rain eased, leaving only the hum of ruined light fixtures.
Then the intercom buzzed. His assistant's voice came thin and urgent:
"President Mo! Police are here—someone tipped them off. They say there's evidence of espionage and attempted arson. They're asking for a woman named Lin Xue."
Xueyi's eyes widened.
Liuxian looked straight at her. "He framed you."
"Again," she said, almost laughing. "History loves to repeat its crimes."
He crossed to the hidden cabinet behind the bookshelf and pulled out a narrow security card. "There's a maintenance elevator two doors down. Take it to the basement garage. My car will be waiting."
"You're helping me?"
"I want the truth more than I want your arrest," he said. "Go."
She hesitated, searching his face for betrayal. Found only exhaustion.
"If you're lying—"
"You'll kill me?" he said, a wry curve at the edge of his mouth. "Get in line."
She slipped the card into her pocket and vanished through the side hall.
Minutes later, Mo Liuxian faced three officers and Han Ze standing among them, clean and composed, every trace of guilt hidden behind a crisp uniform.
"Sir," one officer said, "your own surveillance identifies this woman as Lin Xue, a suspect in data theft."
Han Ze smiled faintly. "She's dangerous. I warned you she was manipulating access to Aurora's records."
"You warned me about a lot of things," Liuxian said evenly. "Most of them convenient for you."
Han Ze's gaze hardened. "Don't let sympathy cloud your judgment. The dead don't come back, President Mo."
"Sometimes they do," Liuxian said. "And they remember everything."
In the underground garage, Bai Xueyi swiped the card and slipped into the waiting car. The moment she started the engine, the dashboard screen lit up with a message.
FROM: Unknown Sender
You should have stayed dead. Now he'll join you.
Her breath hitched. Through the rearview mirror she saw a black van approaching fast, headlights off.
"Han Ze," she whispered.
She floored the accelerator. Tires screamed against wet concrete as the chase began.
Above, Mo Liuxian's phone vibrated. One glance at the screen—and the color drained from his face.
A live feed showed the basement camera: her car speeding toward the exit while the van behind it armed an explosive charge.
"Xueyi…"
He didn't think. He ran.