That night, Rong Qian lay in bed, tossing and turning, the more she thought about it, the more something felt wrong!

Shen Fengran actually harbored those kinds of feelings toward his half-brother — wasn’t that just… absolutely revolting? It was fortunate he hadn’t succeeded, otherwise it would have — never mind! Best not to even think about it.

Rong Qian suddenly felt a chill run down her spine.

First Thomas, now Shen Fengran — could it really be that being handsome was somehow Shen Yi’s fault? Why did everyone have to come after him?

Could it be that the reason Shen Yi ultimately met with disaster was because he’d been pushed to his breaking point by these people — that he’d rather die than submit, and so he jumped into the sea?

Thinking about it this way, Rong Qian felt that Shen Yi was rather like a woman of unyielding virtue.

Still, this reminder made something clear to Rong Qian: not only did she need to find out who had caused Shen Yi’s downfall, she also had to uncover why that person had gone after him with such ruthlessness.

Whether it was driven by personal desire or some other vested interest — both were critically important, and she absolutely had to get to the bottom of it.

Rong Qian couldn’t sleep. Neither could Shen Yi.

After returning to his room, he sat down at the desk. Shen Yi analyzed every timeline — including all the figures involved, the consequences that had already occurred, and what might unfold in the future.

Finally, Shen Yi’s gaze fell on the photograph Rong Qian had given him, resting on the desk.

He picked it up and studied it — the framed painting of red spider lilies hanging in the corridor.

According to Rong Qian, he had asked her to photograph it for him with her camera. But that had yet to happen; Shen Yi had no idea why he would make such a request of her.

Precisely because he didn’t know, he felt even more compelled to figure it out — why had he made that arrangement?

He thought for a long time. When a faint ache began to form in his temples, Shen Yi finally stopped, left his room, and went downstairs to the living room to get some air.

The night was deep and still. Shen Yi leaned back against the sofa, alone, lost in thought.

Then a camera flash went off.

Shen Yi turned his head — and found Rong Qian standing on the staircase, sneaking a photo of him with her phone, having forgotten to turn the flash off.

Caught in the act, Rong Qian simply accepted it. She walked over and sat down beside him, boldly flipped the camera to selfie mode, threw up a peace sign, and snapped a photo of the two of them together.

Shen Yi knew she was taking a selfie and made no move to stop her. Rather than looking at the camera, he looked at her — his lips curving into a gentle, indulgent smile. That expression, warm and tender and full of affection, was captured by the lens.

Rong Qian looked at the photo. Very satisfying!

“What made you suddenly want to take a photo?” Shen Yi leaned toward her and glanced at the picture. It had come out rather well — the technology of the future really was something.

Rong Qian set it as her lock screen wallpaper, then turned to him and said, “Couldn’t sleep, so I came down to find something to eat. I didn’t expect to find you just sitting here — the composition was too perfect. Since my phone still had battery, I figured I’d take a — wait!”

She stopped mid-sentence. Her head snapped up to look at him. Their faces were very close. Rong Qian stared straight into his eyes and said, “How did you know what I was holding? This should be the first time I’ve ever taken my phone out in front of you, shouldn’t it?”

It had only just hit her — this was far too strange. Not only did he know it was a phone, but he even knew it could take photos.

Why?

“Oh dear, you caught me.” Shen Yi pretended he’d let something slip, shaking his head with feigned remorse — though the amusement in his eyes was plain to see.

Rong Qian’s expression turned to one of horror. She leapt off the sofa and scrambled to the far corner of it, shrinking back against the armrest. “Shen Yi, don’t — don’t frighten me, I have a timid heart!”

“A’Qian, you just said you were hungry — shall I go make you something?”

“Don’t change the subject!”

Rong Qian had never been so thoroughly rattled in her entire life. She pointed a trembling finger at Shen Yi and ordered him to sit down. “You — you are not going anywhere until you explain yourself clearly!”

“All right, A’Qian, don’t be scared. I won’t tease you anymore.”

Shen Yi went over and took her hand, drawing her out from the corner of the sofa. Seeing that she had genuinely been frightened, he felt a pang of guilt.

But as for how he came to know about a phone — a piece of modern technology from the future — that story began with something that happened to him the previous year.

“Last year?” Rong Qian’s expression grew more peculiar. Why were they going back that far?

Shen Yi nodded. “Last year, I fell gravely ill. I was bedridden, unconscious for several days. Xu Mo told me afterward that I had looked as though I were already dead — he’d nearly been frightened out of his wits.”

“That serious?” Rong Qian couldn’t help but furrow her brow, all trace of her earlier fright forgotten.

Shen Yi spoke with the cadence of someone reaching far back into memory. “I remember — I had a dream. I dreamed that I had gone somewhere. A city, highly developed, prosperous. It was China — several decades in the future.”

Rong Qian stared at him, wide-eyed. She didn’t interrupt, just listened quietly as he continued.

“In that dream, I saw you, too. You were walking out of a police station. At the entrance, you met a man. His name — I remember clearly — was Xu Yang.”

“You even know Xu Yang!”

Rong Qian was genuinely startled. Hearing that name fall from his lips felt strangely, inexplicably uncanny.

She searched her memory. When had she met Xu Yang at the police station?

Around a while back, she thought.

After that meeting with Xu Yang, she had left for Shaanxi — and that was the same day she learned that the skeletal remains buried underground for thirty years belonged to Xu Mo.

Thinking it through, Rong Qian arrived at a conclusion. She looked at him steadily and said, “That wasn’t a dream.”

“At first I thought it was. But now I know it wasn’t — I truly was there, beside you.” The gaze Shen Yi fixed on her was soft, impossible to look away from.

Rong Qian turned it over carefully in her mind, then looked up and asked, “So does that mean you already knew all along that those remains were Xu Mo’s? Since you were there with me, you must have learned everything I did.”

But Shen Yi shook his head. “Even though I wanted to stay near you at all times, my body was beyond my control. I kept being pulled away to other places, to see other people. As for who those people were — I can’t recall.”

“So before I arrived here, you thought the whole thing was a dream and didn’t give it much thought?”

“Yes. But now — everything has come into sharp focus. Many things have become clear.”

As Shen Yi spoke, his mind was clearly focused elsewhere, his expression contemplative, weighted by something unspoken.

Rong Qian asked, “You truly can’t remember anyone else you might have seen?”

Shen Yi closed his eyes and strained to recall — where else had he gone? There seemed to be a grand, opulent mansion. An elegantly furnished study in classical style. Someone writing with a brush. What were they writing? And who was the person holding that brush? He racked his mind, but could grasp nothing…

Then, without warning, the image in his memory shifted.

Shen Yi stilled.

He saw it — the person whose face he had never been able to see, the one who had been writing in silence, suddenly became visible as if a camera were slowly panning upward… and then he saw clearly.

An elderly man with silver-streaked temples. A scar running through his left eye socket. Blind in one eye.

It was — Shen Fengran.

Shen Yi’s eyes flew open.

He had barely drawn breath to speak when, before a single word could leave his lips — he coughed up blood.

“Shen Yi!”

As darkness swallowed him whole, Shen Yi heard Rong Qian’s panicked cry. And then — nothing.