Zheng Yun stared at her in disbelief, his hands instinctively reaching out to grab her arms, but she had already slipped away from him like a nimble fish.

Standing a short distance away, her gaze settled on his stunned face. “Let’s offer this to each other as a farewell tribute to what we shared. Zheng Yun, from this day forward, the sky is vast and the waters are long — you and I have no more ties. You must find someone who truly suits you, someone who will walk the rest of this road by your side.”

“Zheng Yun, I don’t have that kind of fortune. So — goodbye.”

As Ling’ai spoke, her face was already streaked with tears. “Don’t ask me why. Just let me leave with my dignity intact.”

He opened his mouth to speak; she shook her head and cut him off: “Whether you believe it or not, I want you to know — I love you. I will always love you.”

With those words, Ling’ai suddenly turned and ran inside. By the time Zheng Yun came to his senses, she had already passed through the front gate.

“Ling’ai.” Zheng Yun strode up the steps in large strides and reached out to push the door open — but it wouldn’t budge.

He slapped the door urgently, the iron gate clanging loudly under his hands. “Ling’ai, what in the world happened? Tell me clearly. No matter what it is, I’ll face it with you. Please listen to me — open the door.”

No matter how Zheng Yun beat at the door, not a single sound came from within.

On the other side of the gate, Ling’ai’s body was pressed against the door panel, slowly sliding down until she was crouching on the ground, biting the back of her hand as she let her tears flow freely.

In her world, only Zheng Yun’s voice remained — only this one knock after another on the door. Each strike felt like a hammer pounding at the walls of her heart, the pain so acute it nearly stole her breath, so agonizing she wished she could simply cease to exist.

She loved him. But she had to leave him. For Hui Cun — and for him.

“Who’s there? What’s all that banging about in the middle of the night?”

“Seriously, what a racket.”

The complaints of neighbors drifted in from outside, the sound of pounding on the door especially sharp and alarming in the stillness of the night.

“Ling’ai, I know you’re in there.” Zheng Yun stopped beating on the door and instead pressed close to it, his voice urgent: “Whatever has happened, I’m willing to shoulder it with you. You’re not as strong as you think — don’t carry everything alone. If it’s something to do with your father, I can go find the Young Marshal. He’ll find a way. Open the door. Let’s talk this through properly.”

“Ling’ai, do you hear me?” Zheng Yun called out urgently. “If you don’t open this door, I won’t leave. I will stay here until you answer me.”

“Ling’ai.” His voice gradually took on a choked quality. “Don’t leave me. Please?”

Ling’ai forced herself to swallow the pain welling up inside her, rose to her feet, and ran toward the moon gate.

She knew — she could not keep listening to his voice. Because if she heard one more word, she might abandon all reason and change her mind.

If she weakened now, if she turned back even once, it would cost Hui Cun his life. She could not bear to watch her own father go to his death for her sake.

It was a choice where every path led into an abyss, and yet she had to give an answer.

Zheng Yun had stopped beating on the door, but she knew he was still there. In this biting cold, he truly might stand there the entire night.

Ling’ai wiped away her tears and knocked on Qing Pu’s door.

“Miss Aiko.” Qing Pu opened the door and bowed to her.

“Mr. Qing Pu, I need to ask a favor of you.”

Qing Pu regarded her quietly. “Miss Aiko, please don’t use the word ‘favor.’ In this life, Qing Pu exists only to serve Miss Aiko. Whatever Miss Aiko commands, Qing Pu will carry out without hesitation, even at the cost of his life.”

Qing Pu had been left behind by Hui Cun for her. He had wide connections and was supremely efficient. With him at her side, Ling’ai had nothing to worry about.

Hui Cun had left all that was best in the world for her, while he himself walked willingly toward death.

Zheng Yun had given everything he had to love her, and still she had let him go.

~

Zheng Yun noticed that there was no longer any sound of breathing from the other side of the door — Ling’ai must have left.

He sat dazed on the front steps, the cold wind brushing past his cheeks without his feeling it in the slightest.

In that moment, what was colder than the wind was his heart. What was darker than the night was the road ahead — a road without any light.

He had known something was wrong with her, yet he had never imagined she would propose a breakup. And she wouldn’t tell him the reason, because that reason was very likely one he could not accept.

Ling’ai — who was always so vibrant and optimistic, whose outlook was better than anyone’s — what could have made her give up their relationship with such resolute finality?

Zheng Yun did not want to think about it, because his mind was in utter chaos — over and over again, it replayed the image of Ling’ai’s tear-streaked face as she said those words: “Let’s break up.”

He buried his face in his arms and squeezed his eyes shut.

Why did everything feel like a dream? And he was trapped within a boundless nightmare.

“Zheng Yun. Zheng Yun.”

A familiar voice reached his ears. After a long moment, Zheng Yun finally raised his head from his knees. His eyes were entirely red, his gaze hazy and unfocused.

“Are you out of your mind, sitting here in this freezing cold?” Bai Jin stepped forward and pulled him to his feet. Only then did he notice how alarmingly cold Zheng Yun’s body was — no telling how long he had been sitting there. If he kept this up, he’d turn into a block of ice.

“Do you want to freeze to death?” Bai Jin scolded. “Tomorrow’s headlines: ‘New Chief of the Military Police Bureau Found Dead on the Streets in the Dead of Night — Murder, Suicide, or the Work of a Wandering Ghost?’ You’d be famous overnight. Actually, not famous — infamous.”

When Zheng Yun said nothing, Bai Jin glanced back at the front gate. “Even if you wait all night, it won’t matter. She’s not coming out.”

“Did she ask you to come?” The voice that came out of Zheng Yun was hoarse and rough.

It couldn’t be a coincidence that Bai Jin had appeared here — this must have been Ling’ai’s arrangement.

“Never mind who asked me to come. I just didn’t want to watch you freeze to death. Let’s go — we’re getting drinks.” Bai Jin draped an arm over his shoulders. “Isn’t that what they say? ‘One drink to wash away a thousand sorrows.’ That’s what people with broken hearts do.”

“As if you’ve ever had your heart broken.”

Bai Jin pursed his lips. “I am a master of love.”

“More like a leftover in love.”

“I’m not going to argue with you. Let’s go.”

With a combination of pulling and shoving, Bai Jin finally managed to drag Zheng Yun into the car. As the vehicle started moving, Zheng Yun turned to look at that dark front gate, and a thin mist gradually gathered in his eyes. The glow of the streetlamps blurred before him into an indistinct haze.

He knew — this might be the last time he ever came to stand before her door.

He had sent her home here countless times before. But from now on, he would never have that chance again.

“Bai Jin.” Zheng Yun turned his head, his gaze instantly becoming resolute. “Ling’ai must have run into some serious trouble — the kind even I can’t resolve.”

“So what do we do?”

“Find Seventh Brother.”

“Alright.” Bai Jin was Zheng Yun’s closest friend and knew everything about Zheng Yun and Ling’ai. He had thought that Zheng Yun — a man as stiff as a wooden plank, who so rarely let himself fall for someone — paired with Ling’ai, who was so sincere and warm, would be a perfect match. He had believed they would be the happiest of couples. He never imagined something like this could happen.

The car sped all the way to the front gate of the Shi Mansion. The gatekeeper opened the car door and, upon hearing they were from the Military Police Bureau, led them straight to Shao Lan Court.

Shi Ting had given standing orders: anyone from the Military Police Bureau who came to see him was to be admitted without announcement.

At that hour, Shi Ting and Yan Qing had just finished washing up and were preparing to rest when they heard Jianguo barking outside.

Jianguo’s bark wasn’t a warning that strangers had arrived — it was a signal that familiar visitors had come.

The two exchanged a glance.

“Could it be someone from the Military Police Bureau?” Even as Yan Qing said it, Shi Ting had already opened the door.

He saw Zheng Yun and Bai Jin coming together, and his first instinct was that a major case had broken.

Lately, the incidence of homicides had dropped considerably compared to before. The country was at peace, and social order had grown correspondingly stable.

“Seventh Brother.” Bai Jin stepped inside with one foot and jerked a thumb back at Zheng Yun behind him. “Zheng Shushi can’t go on living.”

Shi Ting: “…”

Yan Qing went to fetch a kettle and poured water for the two of them. “You weren’t at a homicide scene just now, were you?”

“Sister-in-law, this is worse than a homicide scene.” Bai Jin picked up his glass and gulped it down in big swallows. “This fellow had his heart broken.”

“Heartbroken?” Yan Qing’s eyes went wide. “Did you and Ling’ai have a fight?”

“It wasn’t a fight. Ling’ai proposed a breakup and locked him out the front gate. If I hadn’t gotten there in time, you’d have found a frozen corpse on the autopsy table tomorrow morning.”

“Zheng Yun, what exactly happened?” Yan Qing grew anxious. “Why would Ling’ai propose a breakup? Did you do something to make her angry? Or have you been too busy lately, with no time to spend with her?”

Zheng Yun shook his head listlessly. “I don’t know. She didn’t say.”

“She didn’t give a reason? That’s not like her at all. She’s always been outspoken — she says what she thinks, and she doesn’t hide things.”

Zheng Yun said, “The other day, Mr. Hui Cun suddenly came to find me and asked when I intended to marry Ling’ai. I felt something was off at the time, but I didn’t look into it. These past few days when I saw Ling’ai, she was behaving a little strangely, but we still spent time together as happily and easily as usual. Today, she came to my house for dinner, and when I walked her home, she told me it was over. I asked for her reasons, but she wouldn’t say.”

“What happened to your hand?” Yan Qing’s sharp eyes caught sight of his left hand, where a ring of dried tooth marks was visible, crusted with blood.

She turned and went to fetch a small first-aid kit. “Sit down. Let me take care of that.”

“Sister-in-law, there’s no need.” Zheng Yun stared at the wound, murmuring almost to himself, “If I treat it, will it stop leaving a scar? Then she’ll have no way to find me.”

“What nonsense are you talking? In this deep winter, leaving a wound exposed like this risks infection — even frostbite. You want to lose that hand?” Yan Qing’s tone was stern.

Bai Jin promptly dragged Zheng Yun over. “In front of Seventh Brother, do you dare disobey Sister-in-law?”

Zheng Yun had no choice but to sit down and let Yan Qing tend to his wound.

At that moment, Shi Ting — who had not spoken until now — suddenly said: “Her leaving you is very likely connected to her father, Hui Cun.”