THE MODERN WORLD, LU JINCHEN'S OFFICE.
Lu Jinchen was drowning again.
He drank too much, smoked too much, and buried himself in work just to keep breathing. Ten months had passed since Xia Yuqing disappeared, but to him it felt like ten long years.
His office was dim, illuminated only by the city lights spilling through the glass windows. Half-empty bottles lay scattered across the floor, ash piled high in the tray, and paperwork lay untouched on the far end of the desk.
He sat slumped in his leather chair, tie loosened, shirt wrinkled, his once sharply controlled appearance now reduced to a hollow shell of who he used to be.
In front of him stood a small frame—her photograph. His fingers brushed over the glass slowly, tenderly, as if afraid one harsh touch would erase her completely.
"Yuqing…" he whispered, voice cracking. "When will you come back?"
Silence answered him, heavier than any storm.
