The twilight enveloped Foggy Island like ink-stained seawater, slowly swallowing it whole.
Su Wan stood at the window of the old house on the second floor, watching as islanders made their way in small groups toward the ancestral hall at the island's center. They carried lanterns, their footsteps hurried, and their conversations muted, as if afraid to disturb something. The sea breeze brought fragments of words—"moved up," "the old chief's meaning," "it's been twenty years, it's time to make amends"…
These disjointed phrases pieced together in her mind, yet a crucial piece was always missing.
She turned around and pulled her sister's diary out of her backpack. Under the dim yellow light of the lamp, the torn pages stood out starkly. She traced the jagged edges with her fingers—had her sister torn them herself, or had someone else done it after her death? If it was her sister, why tear it? If it was someone else, who could enter this room after the incident?
What troubled her most was the wound mentioned in the diary.
"The cut is too neat; it doesn't look like an accident."
Su Wan closed the diary, and Lu Yu's hand flashed through her mind—long and clean, the hands of a doctor. The faint white scar on the webbing of his right hand was still clearly visible in the twilight. Five years could heal a wound, but the shape of a scar would not change: a straight line following the texture of the skin, undeniably… too neat.
Like the mark of a surgical knife.
A doctor, creating a neat wound on his own hand with a surgical knife, then lying to those who care about him.
But why?
The last sliver of daylight vanished outside. The number of lanterns in the direction of the ancestral hall increased, gathering into a flickering halo of light. The bells had not tolled again, but the unspoken summons felt even more unsettling.
Su Wan made a decision.
She changed into dark clothing, tucked the diary back into her backpack, and quietly descended the stairs. The old house creaked as she opened and closed the door, blending into the night, avoiding the main road, and following a familiar alley toward the ancestral hall.
The night on Foggy Island was unlike that of coastal cities. There were no streetlights, only the scattered glow from a few households. The cobblestone path glowed a bluish-white in the moonlight, and the stone houses on either side loomed like silent giants, their windows eyes watching every nocturnal traveler.
The closer she got to the ancestral hall, the heavier the air felt.
Situated on a hillside at the center of the island, the ancestral hall was the oldest building there. Its walls were constructed of blue stones, black tiles jutting out like eaves, and two heavy wooden doors stood open, revealing flickering candlelight and shadowy figures inside. But there was no sound—at least none could be heard from outside. So many islanders were gathered inside, yet it felt eerily quiet, as if empty.
Su Wan slipped to the side of the hall. There stood an ancient banyan tree, its gnarled branches stretching out. When she was a child, she and her sister often climbed it to sneak a peek at the festival preparations. The tree was still there, its robust branches extending just enough to reach the back wall of the ancestral hall.
Taking a deep breath, she began to climb.
Her movements were clumsier than she had imagined. Five years in the city had nearly made her forget how to climb a tree, and her fingers stung against the rough bark. But gritting her teeth, she persevered, finally reaching a branch that extended toward the wall.
The gap from the branch to the wall was a little over a meter. She adjusted her position, preparing to jump over—
"If I were you, I wouldn't go in now."
The voice came from below the tree, calm, gentle, and familiar enough to make Su Wan freeze.
She looked down. Lu Yu stood under the banyan tree, looking up at her. The moonlight illuminated his face, outlining his features clearly. His eyes, while still bright in the darkness, lacked the warmth of day, replaced instead by a heaviness she couldn't comprehend.
"Come down." He said, "That branch hasn't held weight in five years; it might not be strong."
Su Wan hesitated for a few seconds. The branch creaked quietly beneath her. Eventually, she cautiously retreated to the trunk, sliding down carefully until she landed unsteadily on the ground.
Lu Yu reached out to steady her. The moment his fingers brushed against her arm, she recoiled instinctively.
"You're following me?"
"I saw you leave from the second floor of the clinic." Lu Yu withdrew his hand and slipped it into the pocket of his white coat. "Given the direction and time, I figured you were headed to the ancestral hall."
"So you came to stop me?"
"I came to tell you that now is not the time." Lu Yu looked toward the hall, the candlelight flickering in his eyes. "The old chief is inside hosting the preparatory ceremony. Any outsider who intrudes will be immediately driven away—and you'll never be allowed near the hall again."
"I'm not an outsider." Su Wan shot back. "I was born here."
Lu Yu turned to look at her, his expression complex in the moonlight. "Little Wan, there are some things… you've been away too long. Certain rules on the island hold more importance than blood ties."
"Like the rule of concealing the truth?" Su Wan stepped forward, meeting his gaze directly. "Lu Yu, where were you the night my sister died?"
Silence. Only the distant sound of waves breaking.
After a long pause, Lu Yu replied softly, "I told you, I was at the clinic."
"All night? No one saw you?"
"It was raining that night, and the island lost power." Lu Yu's tone was steady, calmly recounting someone else's story. "The clinic's backup generator could only support the surgical light. I was organizing medical records, and there were no patients."
A flawless explanation. Unassailable.
But Su Wan recalled the words from her sister's diary—"He's lying."
"Your hand." She pressed, "How did you get that wound?"
Lu Yu's hand shifted in his pocket. He didn't pull it out; instead, he said, "Surgical accident. Many doctors have similar injuries."
"An accident from five years ago?"
"...Yes."
"When exactly?"
Lu Yu's throat moved slightly. That minute gesture did not escape Su Wan's notice—he was nervous.
"I can't remember." He said, "There are surgeries every day; accidents happen."
"But my sister's diary states that on the day you were injured, she saw your wound and thought, 'too neat, it doesn't look like an accident.'" Su Wan articulated each word carefully. "She also wrote that you were lying."
Lu Yu's complexion paled in the moonlight. He opened his mouth as if to say something, but suddenly, a low chanting sound emerged from the direction of the ancestral hall.
It was an ancient dialect, the tone strange, like a spell or an elegy. Su Wan couldn't decipher the words but could sense the solemnity—along with an ominous foreboding.
"The ceremony has started." Lu Yu grasped her wrist. "We need to leave."
"Why?"
"Because—" Lu Yu's words trailed off.
His gaze shifted beyond her shoulder, peering into the darkness behind her. Su Wan turned, spotting a small door at the side of the ancestral hall that had opened, and a stooped figure stepped out, carrying a lantern.
It was the old chief. Although she hadn't seen him for five years, Su Wan recognized that frame—small and hunched, yet carrying an undeniable authority.
The lantern's flickering light swayed toward them.
In an instant, Lu Yu grabbed Su Wan and pulled her behind the thick trunk of the banyan tree. His arm encircled her while his other hand covered her mouth with alarming speed. Su Wan struggled for a moment, but Lu Yu's grip was unexpectedly strong, rendering her immobile.
The footsteps grew closer.
The lantern's glow swept across the ground beneath the banyan tree, just a few steps from their hiding spot. Su Wan could hear her own heart racing and sensed the rise and fall of Lu Yu's chest—his heart was racing too.
The old chief's footsteps halted.
Peering through the gap between the trunk and Lu Yu's arm, Su Wan could only see the old chief's back. He stood facing the wall of the ancestral hall, raising the lantern high, as if illuminating something on the wall.
With the help of the lantern's light, Su Wan saw—shallow patterns carved into the wall. They looked like they had been scratched out by a sharp object. She squinted, trying to discern: was that… a date?
"It's been twenty years…"
The old chief's voice was hoarse and low, thick with dialect. He extended his hand, his bony fingers tracing the etched marks with a slow, almost reverent motion.
"What must be repaid must be repaid."
After uttering those words, he raised the lantern and turned, slowly retreating back to the side door of the hall. The wooden door creaked shut, cutting off the last glimmer of light.
Lu Yu released her.
Su Wan stepped back a couple of paces, her breath quickening. "What was carved on the wall?"
"Nothing." Lu Yu's tone regained its calmness, but Su Wan detected a tension in it. "Just some old graffiti."
"A date." Su Wan insisted, locking her gaze on him. "I saw it clearly. It was a date from twenty years ago—I didn't catch the exact day, but it was definitely twenty years ago. The old chief says, 'What must be repaid must be repaid.' Repay what? What does it relate to?"
Lu Yu did not answer. He turned away, facing the ancestral hall. "I'll take you back."
"Lu Yu—"
"Su Wan." He interrupted her, his voice carrying an emotion that resembled pleading for the first time. "Some truths are safer to remain unknown than to know. Your sister has already… I don't want you…"
He didn't finish, but Su Wan understood.
He was afraid. This normally gentle and composed man was afraid.
Afraid that she would uncover the truth? Or afraid of the truth itself?
The sea breeze suddenly picked up, rustling the banyan leaves. The chanting from the hall ceased, replaced by a rhythmic thumping sound—like a wooden mallet striking hollow wood, dull and measured, sending unease rippling through her heart.
"That's the festival drum." Lu Yu murmured. "The ceremony has entered the second stage. We have to go."
This time, Su Wan said nothing in opposition. She followed Lu Yu back along the path they had come. The moonlight stretched their shadows long, intertwining before separating once more.
As they neared the old house, Lu Yu abruptly halted.
"Little Wan." He used the old term of endearment, his voice soft. "If… I mean, if some truths would harm more people, would you still continue to investigate?"
Su Wan looked at him. In the moonlight, his eyes were as deep as the sea.
"My sister is dead." She replied firmly. "If there's a truth behind her death, then that truth deserves to be revealed. As for the harm—concealment has already harmed me for five years. I'm not afraid of further pain."
Lu Yu nodded, as if he had anticipated her answer. He reached out as if to touch her face, but stopped midway.
"Be careful of Lin Hao." He warned.
Su Wan froze. "What?"
"Lin Hao is back." Lu Yu retracted his hand. "He arrived on the island this afternoon. He contacted the old chief, saying he wants to invest in developing Foggy Island."
Lin Hao. Her sister's ex-boyfriend. He had suddenly left the island after the incident, vanishing for five years, only to return now asking to invest?
"Why is he back?" Su Wan pressed.
Lu Yu shook his head. "I don't know. But I remember he and Su Qing separated… rather unpleasantly five years ago." He paused. "Also, Aunt Zhang told me when she went to the clinic for medicine this afternoon, Lin Hao's first inquiry was about you."
The night deepened. The ancestral hall still glowed with candlelight in the distance, the drumbeats penetrating the silent night with thuds that echoed in everyone's heart.
Lu Yu departed. Su Wan stood at the doorway of the old house, watching him vanish around the corner before she turned back to push the door.
It wasn't locked.
She clearly remembered locking the door when she left.
Holding her breath, Su Wan pushed the door open gently. The room was pitch black and silent. She felt her way to the wall, searching for the light switch—
The lights flickered on.
The living room looked just as it had when she left. But there was a faint scent in the air—not dust or mildew, but a strange men's fragrance with a marine note.
She rushed upstairs, darting into her room.
The backpack was still on the bed, but the zipper was open.
Su Wan rushed over, rummaging through the bag—thankfully, the diary was still there. She breathed a sigh of relief but then sensed something was off: the location of the diary had changed. She habitually placed it at the innermost part of the backpack, but now it was sitting on top.
Someone had gone through her bag.
Someone had entered this room, flipped through her sister's diary, and then returned it as it was.
A faint sound of footsteps drifted up from downstairs.
Su Wan froze, her heart racing. Someone was still in the house.
She crept over to the door, peering through the crack—at the foot of the stairs, a man's silhouette was slowly making its way down. He was wearing a dark coat, tall and broad-shouldered, taking care to soften his footsteps.
The man paused in the living room, glancing back up toward the staircase.
Moonlight streamed in through the window, illuminating his profile.
It was a face Su Wan recognized, both familiar and foreign—a man who had matured significantly since five years ago, his features sharper, more defined, with fine lines at the corners of his eyes. But she remembered those eyes—the ones that once looked at her sister with deep affection, later filled with anger and pain.
Lin Hao.
He offered a faint, meaningful smile toward the stairs, then turned and silently slipped out the door.
The drumbeats continued to echo. Thud. Thud. Thud.
Like a heartbeat, like a countdown.