On the anniversary of Zhou Chuan’s death, rain drifted in quietly — a soft, melancholy drizzle, with rolling, muffled thunder hidden within the clouds.

Zhou Jin arrived at Wucheng Cemetery and placed a bouquet of white chrysanthemums before Zhou Chuan’s headstone. She stood in silence for a moment, then gently tilted her umbrella to shield the grave from the wind and rain.

She wanted to speak with Zhou Chuan alone.

Jiang Hansheng held his umbrella and moved to a spot not far away, his gaze fixed quietly on Zhou Jin’s silhouette.

Zhou Jin said, “Brother, the weather is bad today — raining again. It would be nice if we could sit together in the sun this time next year.”

Her tone was unhurried, as though she were simply catching him up on everyday matters: “There’s been a new lead in that case — it was Zhan Wei who deserves the credit. He’s been doing well lately. He transferred to the provincial bureau and got married.”

“Last time I saw Zhan Wei, he was grumbling to me — said that when you were around, you were always one step ahead of him. Faster at training runs, faster at promotions, even faster at getting engaged. Now he’s finally managed to beat you at something. And before long, he’s going to be a father.”

Zhou Jin’s eyes grew faintly warm. She said softly, “You lost this one, didn’t you?”

A moment later, her brows lifted and she smiled again — a little playfully, a little coaxing: “But it’s alright. I’ll win it back for you.”

She paused, her gaze drifting to Jiang Hansheng — taking in his lean, refined face — and then said to Zhou Chuan, “I married him. Jiang Hansheng — do you remember? That boy who used to live next door to us…”

Meeting her eyes from across the distance, Jiang Hansheng was mildly surprised, but when he saw her eyes curved into a smile, he smiled softly in return.

“He treats me very well. Mom and Dad like him a lot.” After a long pause, Zhou Jin added quietly, “So do I.”

Zhou Jin said many things — all the things she could never speak aloud to anyone else, yet could so easily say to Zhou Chuan.

Before leaving, Jiang Hansheng came over and held his umbrella above Zhou Jin. He looked at her damp, short hair and said in a low voice, “You’re soaked through.”

“It’s fine,” Zhou Jin said. “I was just introducing you to my brother.”

Jiang Hansheng asked, “Was he satisfied?”

Zhou Jin couldn’t help but laugh. She nodded. “Satisfied.”

“Good.”

Zhou Jin raised her own umbrella and reached out to brush the water droplets from Jiang Hansheng’s shoulder. “Let’s go. I’ll get the car.”

After Zhou Jin left, Jiang Hansheng stood before the headstone for a long time without moving.

He faced the grave directly, looking at the black-and-white photograph of Zhou Chuan on the headstone. Then, with quiet solemnity, he said, “I will take good care of Zhou Jin.”

His long fingers tightened around the umbrella handle, and he bowed deeply toward Zhou Chuan.

As he bent forward, he seemed to catch a sudden glimpse of something — his spine froze abruptly. There, nestled among the clusters of white chrysanthemums, a cold, metallic glint of silver reflected back at him.

Jiang Hansheng reached down and pulled the object free — it was a pocket watch.

Engraved on its surface was the distinctive pine branch pattern unique to the police emblem.

In an instant, a wave of profound, overwhelming terror crashed over him. Jiang Hansheng opened the pocket watch — the hands had stopped. Beyond that, it was empty.

He closed his fingers around the watch and snapped his head up, sweeping a rapid glance across his surroundings. There were very few people in the cemetery. Only the desolate rain continued to fall.

Jiang Hansheng’s face had gone deathly pale, which made his pupils look all the darker — deep and shadowed.

In that very instant, his throat seized, and he called out in a low, sharp cry: “Zhou Jin!”

The umbrella hit the ground with a thud, spinning once before coming to rest. Jiang Hansheng was already running.

From a distance, he spotted Zhou Jin standing beside the car. Behind her, a man in a baseball cap was walking toward her.

Jiang Hansheng couldn’t see the man’s face. Terror stripped him of all rational judgment in that brief moment.

He shouted hoarsely: “Zhou Jin!”

Zhou Jin heard him and smiled, waving in his direction.

Jiang Hansheng sprinted toward her like a man possessed. Before the man could touch Zhou Jin, he tackled him to the ground — clean, decisive, without hesitation.

His hand shot downward and locked around the man’s throat with precise accuracy, squeezing with a force that was nearly lethal. The gentle, refined face twisted into something ferocious and terrifying — a savagery that radiated menace!

Zhou Jin shouted sharply: “Jiang Hansheng, what are you doing?! Let go!”

She rushed to grab hold of Jiang Hansheng’s arm. Even through his shirt, she could feel it — like steel, the muscles beneath coiled so tightly they nearly trembled.

The man being choked thrashed his legs in frantic, desperate struggle. His baseball cap had been knocked askew, revealing a familiar face.

It was Yan Bin.

Jiang Hansheng snapped back to his senses. Both hands released at once.

Fresh air flooded back into Yan Bin’s airway, and the tearing pain made him convulse slightly. For one fleeting moment, he had genuinely believed his windpipe was about to be crushed.

“Third Brother!”

Zhou Jin, in a panic, shoved Jiang Hansheng aside and helped Yan Bin up from the ground.

Yan Bin clutched his throat, coughing so violently he could barely breathe, his face flushed dark red. When he finally managed to speak, his voice came out like a broken bellows: “Jiang Hansheng, I — what the hell is wrong with you?! Are you out of your mind?!”

This was absolutely not the Jiang Hansheng Zhou Jin knew. Even that night in the back alley of the Phoenix Fire bar, when she had seen Jiang Hansheng use force, she had merely thought there was a sharper edge buried somewhere in his nature.

But right now, the cold, savage ferocity in Jiang Hansheng’s eyes had not yet fully receded — as though he had become an entirely different person.

“…”

Jiang Hansheng’s hand was trembling slightly. He gripped his right wrist with his left hand to steady himself, and said, “I’m sorry. I thought —”

He lifted his head and met Zhou Jin’s gaze — unfamiliar now, and guarded. His heart plummeted.

Jiang Hansheng said nothing.

It took Yan Bin a long while to finally pull himself out of the waves of dizziness. After what had just happened, he could now see clearly that Jiang Hansheng was not someone to be trifled with.

That day, if not for Zhou Jin’s sake, Jiang Hansheng might not have let him off so easily.

Yan Bin leaned against the side of the car, his clothes soaked through with rain and mud. Jiang Hansheng stood in the rain too — disheveled and equally drenched.

Yan Bin said, “…I actually came to apologize.”

That day, he had been far too drunk — even more loose-lipped than usual.

He wanted things to go well for Zhou Jin. He couldn’t accept that things between her and Jiang Cheng had ended so ambiguously, and it pained him even more to see her beginning something just as ambiguous with Jiang Hansheng.

But then, that day, Zhou Jin had turned to him in frustration and said: “If you want to say something for my sake, you can say it to me — Jiang Hansheng has nothing to do with this. Don’t you dare come here and treat him like dirt!”

Those words had knocked him completely sober.

Even the closest of friends needed boundaries. He had no right to second-guess her choices — not when Zhou Jin had been willing to introduce Jiang Hansheng to him in the first place.

After sobering up, Yan Bin had dragged his feet for a long while before finally deciding to send Zhou Jin a message and apologize to her.

Zhou Jin’s reply: The person who deserves the apology isn’t me.

He understood what she meant. He had done a great deal of mental preparation — telling himself it was only because he didn’t want to lose Zhou Jin as a friend that he was apologizing, and that he hadn’t actually done anything wrong — before he finally swallowed his pride and came to face Jiang Hansheng.

He had even been thinking, on his way over, how to phrase the apology so it wouldn’t sound too humiliating. Well. That was no longer a concern.

Yan Bin said, “We’re even.”

Yan Bin paid his respects to Zhou Chuan and didn’t linger long.

He had originally intended to invite Zhou Jin and Jiang Hansheng to share a meal, but he could sense the tension between them, and quickly abandoned the idea.

Besides, his throat still hurt terribly — Yan Bin couldn’t summon even the faintest enthusiasm for the company of the person who had just assaulted him.

He made up an excuse about having business at the shop and left in a hurry.

Inside the car, Jiang Hansheng sat in the passenger seat, having outwardly returned to his usual composure. The mud and filth soaked into half his clothes made him intensely uncomfortable — but beyond that discomfort was something worse: the prolonged, suffocating silence.

Zhou Jin’s hands were tight on the steering wheel. She showed no sign of starting the car.

Finally, she said: “Jiang Hansheng. I need an explanation.”