Zhou Mi ran out sobbing. Before the door slammed shut, she heard Chen Ayi calling her name once, then the sound was cut off.

Tears flowed uncontrollably across her face like blood from her heart, making her skin feel painful and tight. She could only keep wiping her eyes with both hands, otherwise, she couldn’t see the road.

The descending elevator felt like a dry, silver water tank, suffocating.

Zhou Mi had almost forgotten how light and carefree she had been just an hour ago when she came up, like a fish in water, almost wanting to break into a solo dance.

Running out of the lobby, the cool night breeze filled her chest, finally easing the burning temperature on her face.

The wind blew away some of her tears. Zhou Mi took a deep breath and wiped the moisture from her chin with her palm.

She continued walking with intermittent sobs, but didn’t know where to go, wandering. The buildings of Huajun loomed like crystal sword formations, making it difficult to move forward.

Tree shadows swayed, and not far away, the central fountain shimmered with colorful lights, accompanied by music.

A family seemed to be enjoying the cool evening air, strolling about—men, women, young and old—including a little boy riding a black balance bike, shouting “Wow!” with great joy.

Zhou Mi could hardly imagine how frightening she must look right now, so she chose to take a detour.

The noise gradually faded.

She turned onto a small path she had never been on before. Ground lamps like luminous, clean white mushrooms illuminated the surrounding vegetation.

Zhou Mi looked around a few times, made sure no one was nearby, then her vision blurred again as the downpour resumed.

She plopped down on the edge of the landscaped area, finally allowing herself to cover her entire face and sob out all her devastation.

Suddenly, something cool touched her ankle, a bristly sensation brushing against her calf.

Zhou Mi froze, hearing a slightly urgent scolding, “Nakoruru, come back!”

Zhou Mi abruptly lifted her face.

The other person also saw her face clearly in the lamplight and called her name with equal surprise: “Zhou Mi?”

—

Zhou Mi nervously lowered her eyes, hastily wiping her tear-stained face.

Jijie took a small packet of tissues from his pocket, pulled out two sheets, and bent down to hand them to her.

Zhou Mi accepted them, gradually dabbing at the tears in the corners of her eyes, with a nasal tone: “It’s nothing.”

She glanced at the floppy-eared beagle by his feet, pressed her lips together, and made small talk: “Didn’t Lulu come down?”

The dog was sticking out its tongue, looking so carefree that she envied it.

Jijie replied: “Her hind leg was bitten by a tick. She’s recovering at home.”

Zhou Mi made a sound of acknowledgment, her mind in a mess, completely unable to find a topic to fill the silence, not knowing what to do to rescue the awkward situation.

The air was quiet for a moment.

Jijie didn’t ask anything, only looked down at her and said: “Want to walk the dog with me for a while?”

Zhou Mi looked back at him with reddened eyes and nodded.

She stood up, clutching the tissue, her body language revealing her confusion. Jijie held out his hand: “Give me the tissue. I’ll throw it away for you.”

Zhou Mi handed it over.

Seeing no trash can nearby, Jijie kept the slightly damp tissue in his hand and instead gave Zhou Mi the entire pack he had earlier.

Zhou Mi held it in her hand, her throat still choked, but her tone forcefully resilient: “I’m not crying anymore.”

Jijie’s lips curved almost imperceptibly. Instead of hurrying away, he shortened the leash, bringing Nakoruru to the front, between the two of them: “Today you can pet Nakoruru.”

Zhou Mi was stunned: “Ah… is that okay?”

Jijie: “Mm-hmm.”

He lowered his head and commanded the dog: “Nakoruru, sit.”

The big-eared beagle immediately sat up straight.

Jijie then turned his head to remind Zhou Mi, “Go ahead and pet her.”

Zhou Mi said, “Is it okay?”

Jijie said, “Yes, Nakoruru has a gentler temperament than Lulu.”

Zhou Mi crouched down, slowly extending her hand toward the dog’s head. Nakoruru seemed to sense it and actively moved forward to nuzzle her palm. The soft fur had an amazing healing power.

Zhou Mi smiled, sniffled a couple of times, and looked up at Jijie with incredible delight. After he slightly raised his chin to indicate she should continue, she confidently placed her entire hand on the dog, stroking with a bit of pressure.

—

At Jijie’s sincere invitation, Zhou Mi became the new holder of the leash.

Jijie walked quietly beside her, only answering when she occasionally asked questions.

Zhou Mi focused her attention on Nakoruru, who was sniffing around close to the ground, her emotions completely shifted: “She’s so obedient, she doesn’t pull on the leash and run around.”

Jijie said, “Yes, Lulu sometimes runs wildly and pulls the leash, but Nakoruru doesn’t.”

They passed by the fountain again. The family from earlier was nowhere to be seen.

The brilliant water suddenly sprayed high, filling the air with a misty glow that spread in all directions.

Zhou Mi opened her left hand, feeling the cool mist.

Jijie glanced at her eyes, which shimmered in the fountain’s light, and mimicked her gesture.

Influenced by the atmosphere, Zhou Mi’s thoughts had completely cooled down, or rather frozen—neither happy nor angry, unable to seep out sorrow.

Belatedly, she expressed her gratitude and apology to Jijie: “Thank you. I never expected to run into you like this. Today I’ve been so…”

She couldn’t find the appropriate adjective.

Jijie smiled, picking up where she left off: “I didn’t expect to run into you either.”

He looked toward the tall building in front of them: “How long have you been out here alone? Do you want to go back?”

Like an extremely powerful heart-piercing curse, Zhou Mi suddenly felt such pain that her mouth slightly puckered.

Jijie panicked at her rapidly changing expression and hurriedly said, “I’m just asking. It’s fine if you want to stay out longer. I’m not in a hurry.”

Zhou Mi quickly wiped the corner of her eye, controlling the sudden surge of bitterness, afraid of losing composure again in front of a client.

She returned the leash handle to him: “Why don’t you go home first? I’ll go back after clearing my mind a bit more.”

Jijie took the leash: “Did you bring your phone? Will your family be looking for you?”

Zhou Mi suddenly realized and took out her phone from the side pocket of her skirt. She had silenced it while in the elevator.

Sure enough, there were more than ten missed calls—some from Zhang Lian, some from her mother. Her nose constricted again with emotion as she dialed the most recent one.

“My mom called me,” she waved her phone, explaining to Jijie: “I’ll let her know I’m okay.”

Jijie nodded.

—

After saying goodbye to Jijie, Zhou Mi walked to the side and called her mother back.

The call connected quickly. She had expected her mother to scold her immediately and had prepared by shrinking her neck, but surprisingly, her mother was incredibly calm.

Even when she called her full name: “Where are you, Zhou Mi?”

Zhou Mi told the truth: “Still in the neighborhood here.”

Her mother didn’t make any sound for a while.

Zhou Mi’s heart ached subtly as she called very softly: “Mom…”

Her mother’s tone was so soothing that it made her want to cry: “Zhang Lian told me everything over the phone. Take a taxi and come home first.”

Zhou Mi didn’t know how Zhang Lian had described the bad ending of this lie and farce to her mother.

But her mother sounded like a completely different person from last night—disappointed, depressed, disheartened.

Zhou Mi couldn’t ignore her mother’s emotional shift and felt her heart breaking.

The castle in the air had finally shattered.

Everything was tilting toward the worst, most terrible direction, yet she could only handle it by escaping, standing alone under the night sky, watching helplessly, listening silently, no longer able to gloss over or pretend.

She took a painful intake of breath and walked back to Jijie: “You should go home with Nakoruru first. I’ll take a taxi back soon.”

As soon as she finished speaking, she froze in place, eyes widening, terrified by the major slip of the tongue she had carelessly made.

However, Jijie didn’t show any sign of surprise, just raised his arm to point at a location: “Would you mind waiting for me at that intersection? Ten minutes at most.”

Zhou Mi looked where he pointed, not understanding his meaning.

Jijie’s eyes were clear and clean: “I’ll take Nakoruru home first, then get my car to drive you.”

Zhou Mi’s eyes flickered with confusion and subtle uncertainty, but she couldn’t help asking: “You didn’t notice… anything unusual?”

Jijie smiled gently: “I know.”

Zhou Mi stared at him with shock and suspicion.

Jijie’s expression remained gentle, his tone calm: “You live with your boss, right?”

Zhou Mi’s throat tightened, her heart pounding like thunder.

Jijie didn’t linger on this topic, returning to his previous point: “Wait for me, okay? It’s getting late. I’ll drive you.”

Zhou Mi stared at him without blinking, her right hand unconsciously gripping her phone tightly, saying nothing more.

—

When Zhang Lian received the call from Zhou Mi’s mother saying she was safe, he turned the steering wheel and drove back to the complex.

After turning off the engine in the garage, he didn’t hurry to get out and go upstairs, but sat in the dark environment, took out his phone, and looked at the recent calls.

Zhou Mi’s name in his contact list remained unchanged.

She hadn’t answered any of his calls, and of course wouldn’t return any of them.

Zhang Lian exited the call history, turned off his phone, and got out of the car.

Returning home, Chen Ayi anxiously came to greet him, inquiring about Zhou Mi’s situation.

Zhang Lian said, “She went home.”

Then he went straight to the bathroom.

Chen Ayi felt relieved, standing outside, saying: “Mr. Zhang, I’ll heat dinner first. Two dishes can be eaten cold or heated, each with its flavor. How would you like…”

Zhang Lian focused on washing his hands. He scrubbed for a long time, at first still listening, but later he just stared at the dense foam, oblivious to any surrounding sounds.

Seeing that he wasn’t responding, Chen Ayi could only leave and turn toward the kitchen.

A moment later, Zhang Lian’s brow smoothed as he rinsed his hands clean. His gaze then swept past a vase containing a cluster of small white-petaled, yellow-centered daisies.

Zhang Lian returned to the kitchen, drank half a glass of water, and then sat down at the dining table to eat.

Chen Ayi was still shaken by the couple’s intense argument tonight, but didn’t feel it was her place to speak directly. She stood to the side, speaking indirectly: “Mr. Zhang, I’ve put the fresh flowers you brought home today in a vase with preservative. I’ve also put the desserts in the refrigerator. If you need them tomorrow, I can arrange them again for you, guaranteed to look exactly like when you bought them today.”

Zhang Lian looked at her once but didn’t respond.

Back in the bedroom, everything remained in its original state. The girl’s belongings all stayed where they belonged—the fluffy white sheep at the bedside, the pink magic circle charging pad on the cabinet, the rabbit-headed miniature humidifier, and the AirPods by the pillow that had once received his mockery for their “Early Retirement” transparent case.

Nothing had moved.

Yet everything had changed drastically.

Zhang Lian turned around and picked up the red ring box from the table with one hand.

He opened it, finally truly examining the platinum ring inside carefully. He hooked it out with his thumb and index finger—a very simple style, with small diamonds shining discreetly.

He turned it between his fingers, looking at it for a few more moments, then suddenly noticed a small engraving on the inner circle in a somewhat artistic handwritten font.

Zhang Lian brought it closer, carefully discerning the English words.

His eyes tightened slightly.

It was a self-created phrase, born from the girl’s consistently vivid and poetic imagination: “Mi ‘sPoet.”

Zhang Lian’s gaze lingered on it for a long time. Finally, his chest rose and fell in a long, deep breath as he slipped the ring back into its holder and closed the ring box.