Her body, long starved of tenderness, had finally found some peace. It had been enough — more than enough — and Zhou Tingzhao had always known how to make her feel truly cared for. That was why, for the first time in a long while, Sang Ru slept deeply that night.

She slept so deeply that even as consciousness crept back in, she couldn’t quite bring herself to open her eyes. A strange tension settled over her — the simultaneous pull of rest and restlessness, relaxation and unease, pressing against each other until her whole body felt taut.

Then a sudden, breathless sensation jolted her awake.

Probably just sleep paralysis, she thought. Her second thought was more practical: What time is it? Do I have school?

She reached beside her pillow for her phone. Nothing.

That wasn’t right. She had placed it there before falling asleep. She pushed herself up slightly to look around, but the room was too dim to make anything out clearly.

The curtains held just a thin sliver of light — the ambiguous kind that could belong to midnight or the very edge of dawn.

It’s probably still early. Sang Ru lay back down.

But the moment her eyes closed, they opened again.

Something was wrong.

This wasn’t the orientation of her room.

Before she could make sense of it, an arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her back into a warm embrace. She let out a startled cry and instinctively struggled — until a voice stopped her.

“It’s me.”

Low, familiar, rough with sleep.

Sang Ru’s heart lurched. She stilled, then carefully reached for the switch beside the bed.

Click. The bedside lamp flooded the room with soft light. She winced, squeezing her eyes shut until they adjusted.

When she turned, it was Zhou Tingzhao — also blinking against the light, also just waking up.

Their eyes met.

Something inside Sang Ru’s chest went off like a spark catching kindling.

They stared at each other in silence, yet somehow the quiet felt full — brimming with everything that didn’t need to be said. Their gazes tangled together and held, and in that stillness, it was as if years of unsaid things passed between them all at once.

Then, wordlessly, naturally, they came together in a long, unhurried kiss.

Like creatures who had gone without water for too long and had finally, desperately found it. Sang Ru felt it keenly — that ache of thirst she hadn’t even admitted she’d been carrying. And Zhou Tingzhao, she could feel it in him too. They had both been parched, drifting separately on some dry shore, and only now, pressed close in the dim lamplight, did they become each other’s water.

The kiss deepened. The world outside the window was still dark and quiet, and neither of them rushed.

When they finally pulled apart, breathless and warm, there was a tenderness between them that felt almost too fragile to name. Zhou Tingzhao pressed his forehead to hers, and Sang Ru closed her eyes, simply breathing him in.

They stayed tangled together, the sheets warm around them, their heartbeats gradually slowing.

At some point, Sang Ru realized the light outside had begun to shift.

Then Zhou Tingzhao did something unexpected. He stood, scooped her up, and carried her toward the window.

Sang Ru clutched at him instinctively. “What are you doing?”

With one hand he drew back the curtains, and she flinched away, hiding her face against his shoulder.

“Someone will see us!”

He laughed — genuinely, warmly — and smoothed a hand over her hair. “Baby. We’re on the twenty-third floor.”

Sang Ru hesitated, then slowly turned to look.

The sky outside had already begun its transformation. The deep navy of night was quietly dissolving into the first warm blushes of morning — amber and rose bleeding up from the horizon, softening everything they touched.

Zhou Tingzhao held her against his chest as they stood before the floor-to-ceiling glass, watching the city below still wrapped in shadow while the sky above it slowly, inevitably caught fire.

At the moment the sun cleared the clouds and spilled fully across the world, Sang Ru exhaled — long and slow — as if releasing something she had been holding for years.

Zhou Tingzhao pressed his lips to her temple, and they stood together in the new light.

Do you understand now? They have all returned.