The soft golden glow of the mall's ceiling lights shimmered down on polished floors as bustling footsteps echoed around. Bai Zhiqi trailed slightly behind Lin Ke'er, who was practically bouncing from store to store, her arms already looped with shopping bags.
"I can't believe you don't own anything remotely casual," Lin Ke'er said, glancing back at Bai Zhiqi with a teasing pout. "You always wear these stiff button-ups and black slacks. You're too pretty to look so... corporate."
Bai Zhiqi smiled faintly but said nothing. She didn't care much for fashion. Five years in prison had taught her to survive in monotone shades and silence. But Lin Ke'er's persistence had been difficult to say no to.
She let her friend tug her into a boutique lined with soft sweaters and coats, the music low and modern. While Ke'er flipped through hangers animatedly, Bai Zhiqi stood by the window, letting her gaze wander through the open gallery across the mall.
And then she froze.
A familiar figure in white heels and a cream trench coat entered her line of sight. The woman's hair, styled perfectly in waves, cascaded down her shoulders. She held a designer clutch, her posture confident, graceful—even rehearsed.
Bai Lanyue.
Her younger adoptive sister.
The very one who had smiled sweetly as she sealed Bai Zhiqi's fate five years ago. The one who had cried crocodile tears before the socialites and pointed a manicured finger at her. The one who had walked free.
Bai Zhiqi's body locked. Her lungs felt like they had caved in for a moment. That same icy suffocation from the past gripped her. Her pulse roared in her ears. She dropped the sweater she was holding, quickly backing away from the window as she turned her face to the side.
Her heart thundered. She slipped behind a pillar inside the boutique just as Bai Lanyue paused outside a luxury store across from them. Thankfully, the angle made it difficult to spot her.
From behind the safety of the pillar, Bai Zhiqi peeked out. Bai Lanyue was smiling, talking to a man beside her. The same way she always had—smile like honey, eyes like innocence. But Bai Zhiqi knew better.
She pressed her back against the pillar, inhaling quietly. Not now. She wasn't ready to face her. Not here, not like this—with nothing but a borrowed name and a half-rebuilt life.
"Bai Zhi!" Lin Ke'er called, suddenly appearing from between the racks. Bai Zhiqi jerked slightly, startled, but Ke'er didn't seem to notice. "Try this coat on. It'll go so well with your skin tone!"
Bai Zhiqi quickly composed herself. "Sure," she murmured, her voice neutral.
She didn't dare glance back out the window. If Bai Lanyue turned around and caught sight of her—if she recognized her—it could shatter the fragile shield she had built. Bai Zhiqi wasn't afraid of confrontation, but exposure now would derail everything she had planned. She needed time, control... not chaos.
In the changing room, her fingers trembled slightly as she buttoned the coat Lin Ke'er had picked. Her reflection stared back at her—calm, composed, but with storm clouds swirling in her eyes.
Five years had passed.
But she hadn't forgotten.
And now, seeing Lanyue again, so free and untouched by guilt—it only reminded her that nothing had been resolved. The world still believed Bai Zhiqi was the criminal. The liar. The outcast.
Not for long.
She stepped out in the coat, and Lin Ke'er clapped her hands. "Now that's what I call stunning! You actually look like someone who takes lunch breaks and flirts in cafés."
Bai Zhiqi chuckled softly, masking the dull ache in her chest. "Is that a compliment?"
"A glowing one!" Ke'er beamed. "Let's grab coffee before we leave."
Bai Zhiqi gave one last fleeting glance toward the window. Bai Lanyue was gone.
Good.
She would not remain hidden forever—but their reunion would be on *her* terms. When she had the power to look Lanyue in the eye and say: "I remember."