More than a year had passed since Lin Kai's birth, and the Lin household had settled into a rhythm—soft, steady, and mostly peaceful. Just a few days ago, they had celebrated Lin Kai's first birthday with a modest festivity.
The courtyard had been decorated with pastel lanterns, and the children had worn matching silk outfits, their laughter echoing through the garden like wind chimes.
Lin Mei had smiled often that day, her eyes bright as she watched her daughters chase each other around the table and Lin Kai giggle in her lap. Zhang Liu had stood nearby, smiling too—but his smile didn't reach his eyes.
Still no progress, he thought, watching Lin Mei from across the room. Even after sharing the same space, even after sleeping under the same roof… she's drifting further.
They greeted each other more now—polite nods, quiet exchanges, the occasional "good night." But Zhang Liu's intuition whispered truths he didn't want to hear. Lin Mei's tone had grown cooler, her gaze more distant. She was slipping away, not with anger, but with indifference.
Lin Yu's birthday was approaching in August, and there was still time before the next celebration. For now, life moved in its usual rhythm.
Lin Mei worked from home, her schedule precise and efficient. Twice a week, she received reports from her two trusted subordinates—Han Zhe and Jing Lie. The couple, both in their late thirties, had become indispensable to her.
They had once been on the brink—fired from their previous jobs, struggling to make ends meet, their home heavy with financial strain. Lin Mei had found them then, not by accident, but by design.
She had read their profiles, seen their potential, and offered them a lifeline—a security role with a generous salary.
They had accepted with gratitude, and over time, their loyalty deepened. Lin Mei had promoted them, entrusted them with oversight of the branch, and quietly tasked them with monitoring Zhang Liu's performance as well.
Han Zhe stood in her study now, a tablet in hand, his voice calm. "Madam, Zhang Liu's productivity has dropped again. He's been dazed lately. Should I deduct his salary?"
Lin Mei leaned back in her chair, fingers tapping the armrest. Her gaze drifted to the window, where the garden shimmered under the afternoon sun.
He's distracted, she thought. But not malicious. Just… lost.
"No need," she said finally. "Let it be."
Han Zhe nodded. "Understood."
Jing Lie entered the room, smiling. "Shall we greet the children before heading out?"
Lin Mei nodded. "They'll be happy to see you."
The couple walked into the playroom, where Lin Ming and Lin Ling were building towers with wooden blocks, and Lin Yu was drawing on a sketchpad. Lin Kai sat nearby, surrounded by plush toys, his eyes following every movement.
"Uncle Han! Aunt Jing!" the girls cried, rushing forward.
The room filled with laughter as the couple played with the children, their voices warm, their presence familiar. Lin Mei watched from the doorway, her arms folded, a faint smile on her lips.
They're good for the children, she thought. They bring a different kind of warmth.
Zhang Liu, meanwhile, remained unaware. He didn't know about the reports, the quiet surveillance, the visits. He assumed it was just his wife's company—her domain, her rules. A little carelessness, he thought, was forgivable.
Lin Ming and Lin Ling, now four years old, were preparing for kindergarten. Their excitement was palpable.
"We'll meet new friends!" Lin Ming exclaimed.
"I want a pink bag," Lin Ling added.
Lin Mei had already begun preparations—uniforms folded neatly in drawers, new tiffin boxes stacked on the shelf, tiny shoes lined up by the door.
Lin Yu watched all this with wide eyes. "Can I go too?"
Lin Mei knelt beside her, brushing a strand of hair from her daughter's cheek. "Soon, sweetheart. Next year. For now, you can play with your brother."
Lin Yu's lips pouted, her mood dipping. But then she turned to Lin Kai, who was chewing on a soft toy, and her face lit up.
"I'll teach him everything!" she declared.
Lin Mei chuckled. "I'm sure you will."
Lin Kai listened quietly, his mind far more advanced than his age. His soul, still carrying the remnants of adult consciousness, absorbed everything—words, gestures, emotions. He watched his sisters, his mother, even his father, and learned.
The tension between Lin Mei and Zhang Liu had once confused him. Now, he simply accepted it. Like the girls, he had adjusted. The bond with their mother was stronger, deeper, more constant. Zhang Liu was often at work, and when home, he was… present, but not central.
The girls slept with their father occasionally, but their comfort lay with Lin Mei. Her presence was their anchor.
Lin Mei's mood always dipped when Zhang Liu was near. Even in sleep, her body tensed slightly when he entered the room. But during the day, she was joyful—her laughter genuine, her energy light. She cherished every moment with her children, and with no pressure from her family, she felt free.
That night, after dinner, the household settled into its usual routine.
Zhang Liu returned from work, his steps slow, his face tired. The children greeted him with hugs, Lin Mei with a nod. They ate together, the maids serving quietly, the room filled with soft clinks of porcelain and murmured conversation.
Later, the children were tucked into bed. Lin Mei lay beside Lin Kai, his tiny body curled against hers. Lin Yu nestled close, her hand resting on her mother's arm.
Zhang Liu lay on his mat, Lin Ming and Lin Ling beside him. He stirred restlessly, his sleep broken by dreams he couldn't remember. Sometimes he muttered, sometimes he turned sharply. The girls, sensing his unease, would wake and crawl toward Lin Mei's bed, seeking comfort.
Lin Mei never refused them. She would open her arms, whisper soft lullabies, and let them sleep beside her.
Lin Kai watched all this, his eyes half-closed. This is our rhythm, he thought. This is how our days end.
And so the night passed—quiet, layered, and full of unspoken truths.