What Shen Yi and Shen Fongran had said to each other that night, Mu Chaoxue did not know.

What he did know was that Shen Yi had indeed been shot and fallen into the sea.

Mu Chaoxue also knew that Shen Fongran had never truly had the power to sink the ship. That had been nothing but a lie, fabricated to lure Shen Yi out.

In other words — whether or not Shen Yi showed up that night, Shen Fongran would have had no further ability to threaten him afterward.

And yet no one told Shen Yi this. So Shen Yi had no choice but to keep the appointment — and in the end, he died at Shen Fongran’s hands.

Reading this page, Rong Qian understood exactly what she had to do: if she could stop him from boarding that ship, then he would live.

As for Shen Fongran, Rong Qian now had the answer to that as well. His earlier claim that Shen Yi had survived — that he’d gone into hiding under a new identity and lived a life of prosperity — had in fact been a description of himself.

The one who had truly disappeared under a false name was Shen Fongran. He had changed his name to Huo Xijun.

The first time Rong Qian saw that name, she paused. Wasn’t Huo Xijun the Chinese name for Thomas? How could Shen Fongran share the same name?

Reading further, she understood: Thomas had been dead for years.

The Thomas of the present was Shen Fongran.

All these years, Shen Fongran had been operating under Thomas’s reputation, using it to do as he pleased. He had hidden himself well, not letting a single breath of truth escape.

And the person who had sent people to attack Rong Qian again and again during this period was also Shen Fongran. His only goal had been to stop her from crossing over to find Shen Yi.

The irony was that no one could have anticipated: his attempts to stop her had instead driven her to cross through time, again and again.

None of that mattered to Rong Qian now. There was only one thing she wanted to do: go and save Shen Yi.

So without another word, she gathered the photograph and turned to leave — but just as she was about to go, the light above her suddenly went out.

She glanced out the window and saw that it wasn’t just her building without power. The entire residential complex had gone dark.

The world around her plunged into blackness. Rong Qian was just reaching for her phone to use as a flashlight when something made her senses sharpen abruptly — she snapped her head up.

But it was already too late. A heavy blow landed on the back of her skull, and Rong Qian crumpled to the ground.

Before losing consciousness, Rong Qian glimpsed the photograph still in her hand — intact, unburned, not crumbled to ash…

When Rong Qian came to, she found herself in a very familiar room. The décor had a distinctly princess-like quality — wasn’t this the room Shen Yi had prepared for her?

Had she crossed over again?

But something was wrong. That photograph hadn’t turned to ash.

And though this was the room she had stayed in before, it seemed to carry the weight of some years having passed.

Rong Qian sat up from the bed, and the back of her head — where she’d been struck — ached sharply. She reached up to touch it and winced, sucking in breath through her teeth.

At that moment, the door opened.

Rong Qian looked up and saw an old man walk in. It was none other than Shen Fongran.

One glance at his upright, vigorous posture, and she knew that the wheelchair and disability were a fabrication. The only real thing about this Shen Fongran was his blind left eye.

Behind him trailed a row of bodyguards.

After Shen Fongran sat down, he spoke to her with the casual ease of someone greeting an old acquaintance, and asked in an offhand tone, “Miss Rong, do you know where you are?”

Rong Qian said nothing. Her gaze was sharp and unwavering, fixed on him.

Shen Fongran took no particular notice and continued on regardless. “This is Shen Yi’s home. You once lived here with him for a time, isn’t that right?”

“Shen Fongran — your performance was quite convincing.” Rong Qian made no effort to soften the barb, referencing the act he’d put on at the care home.

Shen Fongran let out a short laugh. “You flatter me, Miss Rong.”

“So then?” Rong Qian slid off the bed. “Have you gotten what you came for?”

She had barely taken a step toward Shen Fongran before two bodyguards moved to block her path.

Shen Fongran’s smile turned cold and sinister. He reached into his pocket and produced a photograph. The moment Rong Qian saw it, her pupils contracted sharply. She lunged forward to snatch it away, but two bodyguards seized her and held her fast.

One of them pressed an electric baton against her waist. To strip her of her ability to resist, he triggered it — and in an instant, Rong Qian felt as if her entire body had gone numb. The strength left her all at once, and she slumped, limp. Her fierce struggle from moments ago had been completely silenced.

Even so, Rong Qian gritted her teeth and kept fighting with everything she had. Even if she had to crawl, she would drag herself to where Shen Fongran stood and rip that photograph from his hands.

Shen Fongran watched her futile resistance with something like appreciation. Seeing how desperately she wanted the photograph, he reached into another pocket and produced a lighter.

“What are you doing?” Rong Qian’s face drained of color.

Shen Fongran gave her a look. “What do you think?”

Then he turned the lighter on the photograph, and touched a flame to one corner. He watched the fire begin to climb.

“No — no — stop!” Panic seized Rong Qian. But the two bodyguards had her pinned to the floor, and no matter how she struggled, she could not stand.

She could only watch as the photograph burned past the halfway mark. Rong Qian was breaking apart. She cried out for him to stop; she even swallowed her pride and begged.

But Shen Fongran remained utterly unmoved. As the flames grew, he broke into wild, frenzied laughter. “Ha! Shen Yi, you thought you could fight me? You thought you could come back to life? I’ll tell you — keep dreaming!”

“Don’t — don’t, give the photograph back to me, give it back!” Rong Qian had shattered entirely. She sobbed until she couldn’t breathe, screaming herself raw — but the photograph burned on before her eyes until there was nothing left.

In that moment, something inside Rong Qian broke too.

“Shen Yi…”

“Shen Yi…”

Rong Qian wept as though her heart had been torn from her chest. She bit her lip until it bled. Helpless, she called his name over and over, consumed by a pain so overwhelming she had lost all will to go on.

“Miss Rong, what are you crying for? It was only a photograph.” Shen Fongran smiled with smug satisfaction. The more shattered Rong Qian was, the more delight it brought him.

Whether or not Rong Qian was listening, Shen Fongran kept talking. “Do you know what Shen Yi said to me before he died?”

Rong Qian had her head bowed, pinned to the floor by two bodyguards. She gave no response.

Shen Fongran laughed triumphantly and said, “He told me he would definitely come back to life — ha! What a joke. I wonder, if he knew that photograph has now been burned to nothing, what expression would be on his face? It must be priceless — ha ha ha!”

Shen Fongran’s laughter echoed around her. Rong Qian lay there with tears streaming down her face, and slowly, quietly, her hands curled into fists. Her fingernails drove into her palms. She couldn’t feel it.

She was going to kill him. She would kill him.