The next day, I woke up to find the space beside me empty, and my heart clenched instantly.

I stumbled down the stairs.

At the top of the staircase, hearing familiar voices, I slowed to a stop.

“Bro, that group’s finally shown up again.

“The shipment we caught last time—it belonged to them.”

Officer Fu sat on the sofa, his clothes rumpled, looking thoroughly worn out from travel. Zhou Haiyan sat across from him, his expression grave.

The moment they heard my footsteps, they both fell silent.

Officer Fu smoothly changed the subject.

“Hey, little sister’s up? The college entrance exam really takes it out of you—you should rest a few more days.

“By the way, where’s Auntie? Out buying groceries?”

Then something occurred to him, and his brow furrowed, a flash of anger crossing his face.

“Those people in the alley are just vicious with their mouths, spreading rumors without any limits, telling me Auntie—” As if realizing how ominous that word sounded, he didn’t finish the sentence.

The living room fell silent.

Officer Fu looked at me, then at the man across from him, confused. “Why aren’t either of you saying anything?”

“It’s true.” Zhou Haiyan’s voice was calm.

Officer Fu froze for a few seconds, his expression gradually stiffening, disbelief creeping into his voice.

“No—hold on, are you two joking with me right now? She was completely fine, I was only gone a few days.

“I don’t believe it, no way. Does Auntie not want to see me? Then fine, I’ll just leave—I’ve got thick skin, I’ll come back once she’s not mad at me anymore, is that okay?”

As he spoke, his nose started to sting, his vision blurring in an instant. He reached back for the jacket behind him and tried to put it on, but his hands were shaking, and he couldn’t get the zipper up no matter how many times he tried.

“She asked me to tell you she’s sorry. She didn’t mean to take it out on you,” Zhou Haiyan said.

“Stop! I don’t believe a single word!” His voice came out bitter, cracked.

Officer Fu refused to accept the truth, choosing instead to run from it—jacket still unzipped, he turned and bolted out the door.

I understood exactly how he felt.

At the end of the day, our situations were the same. He had no parents of his own; for me, it was as good as having none either.

Over the years, he’d seen every bit of kindness Mom Zhou had shown him. He never said it out loud, but in his heart, he’d treated her like his own mother all along.

But that’s how life is—whatever you fear most is exactly what comes to find you, and whatever you hope for most is exactly what slips away.

Just like the fragments of their conversation I’d overheard earlier—even though I hadn’t understood what they were talking about, there was an inexplicable, unsettled feeling of dread that had come with it.

That vague sense of unease was confirmed over the following days, as Zhou Haiyan started leaving early and coming home late, again and again.

He grew busy—so busy the tattoo shop stopped opening entirely.

Those dark eyes of his grew deeper and colder with each passing day; catching his gaze by chance could send a genuine chill through you.

It was as if he’d become an entirely different person after Mom left. As the vine that had once bound him firmly in place was torn away, the fierce, untamed nature that had always lain hidden beneath his gentle exterior began surfacing more and more, claws and fangs slowly emerging, the wildness in him no longer something that could be held back.

The distance between us seemed to keep growing.

He’d said he wouldn’t leave.

But it seemed he was about to break that promise.