The private room of Yun He Pavilion was quiet in a way only the top restaurant in the Capital could afford to be.
Floor-to-ceiling lattice windows filtered in soft daylight. The faint scent of sandalwood lingered in the air. Outside, the city's power players dined loudly—but here, silence itself was a luxury.
Li Meilin sat alone thinking about how to reach him at the round mahogany table.
The dishes before her were exquisite, each plated like a work of art.
A small porcelain bowl held double-boiled fish maw soup, clear and golden, steam rising gently—nourishing, calming to the heart.
Beside it was crispy Peking duck, the skin lacquered to a perfect amber sheen, sliced thin and arranged with cucumber shreds and scallions.
A plate of braised abalone with oyster sauce glistened under the light, the meat tender and rich, soaking up layers of flavor.
There was steamed grouper with ginger and soy, the fish snow-white and delicate, topped with sizzling hot oil poured moments before serving.
A lighter dish followed—lotus root stuffed with glutinous rice, sweet and fragrant, finished with osmanthus syrup.
Meilin ate slowly, gracefully, as if she had all the time in the world.
Just as she lifted her teacup—aged pu'er, dark and mellow—
A sudden noise cut through the calm.
Shouting.
A chair scraping harshly against the floor.
Then panic.
Meilin's gaze lifted slightly toward the door.
Outside the private room, footsteps rushed past. A man's voice barked sharply, controlled but urgent.
"Move back—give him air!"
The door slid open a crack.
Meilin stood.
When she stepped out, the corridor was in chaos.
An elderly man had collapsed onto the carpet, his face pale, lips tinged blue. His breathing was shallow, uneven. A trembling butler knelt beside him, hands shaking.
Standing over them was a tall man in a crisp uniform—broad-shouldered, posture straight even in crisis.
Commander Yan.
His expression was sharp, eyes assessing, voice steady as steel.
"It's a heart attack," he said. "Someone call emergency services—now."
Meilin moved without hesitation.
"Don't lift him," she said calmly.
Commander Yeon turned, startled.
She was young. Elegant. Completely out of place in a life-and-death moment.
But her eyes—
They were frighteningly composed.
She knelt beside the old man, fingers already checking his pulse, then pressed lightly at a point near his wrist and chest.
"Acute coronary spasm," she said. "He's still conscious inside. There's a window."
From her bag, she took out a small jade bottle.
She tipped a heart-calming pill into her palm—dark red, faintly aromatic—and gently placed it into the old man's mouth, guiding him to swallow with a sip of warm tea someone handed over instinctively.
........
Seconds passed.
Then—
The old man's breathing steadied.
Color slowly returned to his face.
A collective gasp rippled through the corridor.
The butler's eyes reddened. "Sir… Sir?"
Meilin rose smoothly to her feet.
She turned to the butler and spoke evenly, as if giving routine instructions.
"Take him to the hospital immediately," she said. "Do not delay. The worst has passed, but he still needs treatment."
She paused, then added quietly, "He'll be fine."
The butler bowed deeply, over and over. "Thank you, miss. Thank you!"
Medical staff arrived moments later.
She turned back toward her private room, her heels tapping softly against the marble floor.
....
Meilin left Yun He Pavilion without looking back.
The commander yan had just brought the car around when two familiar voices cut through the air.
"Meilin?"
She stopped.
Huang Yuxuan stood near the entrance, dressed delicately in white, clinging to Zhang Kaichen's arm as if afraid she might be blown away by a gust of wind. They looked like a carefully rehearsed pair—soft smiles, practiced intimacy.
Meilin's gaze flicked over them once. Flat. Distant.
Kaichen cleared his throat, forcing a smile. "I heard you're… also going to Capital University?"
Yuxuan added quickly, eyes bright. "What a coincidence. Kaichen and I will be there too. ."
Meilin didn't answer immediately.
She adjusted the strap of her bag, her expression unreadable.
"Mm," she said at last. "Good luck."
That was all.
No sarcasm. No anger. Not even disdain.
Just… indifference.
She stepped past them, heels clicking against the stone steps, and got into the car.
The engine started.
Huang Yuxuan's smile stiffened.
Kaichen stared at the disappearing car, an uncomfortable emptiness settling in his chest.
The old colony near Capital University hadn't changed.
Cracked walls. Faded laundry hanging from iron balconies. The smell of damp concrete and cheap food in the air.
Meilin walked slowly, eyes scanning every passing figure.
Then—
She saw him.
Xie Zihan.
He was walking ahead, backpack slung over one shoulder, his posture slightly tense. Beside him was a girl—plain, nervous, holding a stack of books too tightly.
She stumbled.
Instinctively, the girl reached for him.
"Be careful," she said softly, trying to steady him.
Zihan frowned.
He didn't stop.
He gently but firmly pulled his arm away and continued walking, his steps fast, impatient—like he was used to being alone.
The girl lagged behind, awkward and unsure.
Meilin stopped.
Her chest tightened—not sharply, but with a dull, unexpected ache.
So who is she..
Alive. Walking. Untouched by the hell that once bound them together.
And unaware of her.
She watched him disappear around the corner.
....
The paper bag was still warm in Meilin's hands.
Steam seeped through the thin wrapping, carrying the familiar scent of pork dumplings and gingered chicken soup. She hadn't planned it—her feet had simply stopped in front of the stall. Maybe it was habit from another life. Maybe it was instinct.
By the time she realized where she was, she was already following him.
The old colony lay far from Capital University—cracked roads, tangled electric wires, buildings leaning like tired old men. Xie Zihan walked ahead, his steps steady, his shoulders slightly hunched as if the world pressed down on him.
A girl trailed him closely, trying to match his pace.
"Brother Han, wait—slow down."
He didn't.
Meilin's chest tightened. She slowed, watching from a distance, the warmth in her hands slowly sinking into her palms.
They stopped in front of a low, damp rented house.
One small kitchen.Two cramped rooms.A narrow hall with a single wooden chair.
When the door opened, Meilin hesitated—then stepped inside.
The girl looked up first.
"Brother Han? Brother Feng? Dinner's ready."
Her voice was soft, practiced.
Two boys emerged.
One was Zihan.
The other—taller, brighter-eyed—looked instantly curious.
When Zihan saw Meilin standing there, time seemed to freeze.
His expression barely changed, but something flickered deep in his eyes.
"…Why are you here?" he asked, cold on the surface.
Meilin's grip on the bag tightened.
Her voice came out low. "Why didn't you say anything before leaving the hospital?"
Silence fell.
Xu Feng's gaze darted between them. Interest sparked immediately.
"Ohhh," he said lightly, stepping forward. "So you're the one."
Zihan shot him a warning look.
Xu Feng grinned. "Relax. I was just guessing. took him hosital, Han, if you didn't rush out, you'd have missed your morning shift. Convenience store docked wages again?"
Xu feng introduced himself , then told she is Su min , then mei lin introduced herself
.Meilin turned to Zihan. "You worked after that?"
"It wasn't necessary to explain," he replied.
That hurt more than she expected.
She swallowed it down.
"I brought dumplings," she said, lifting the bag slightly. "Let's eat together."
Su Min's smile appeared instantly.
"Of course," she said sweetly, already moving. "I'll set the table."
She laid out four bowls.
Rice.Chicken—clearly meant for three.
Meilin noticed.
She said nothing.
As they sat, Meilin barely touched her food. Instead, she quietly filled Zihan's bowl first.
He froze.
Chopsticks hovering.
Should he eat… or refuse?
The room held its breath.
Finally—hunger won.
He ate.
Meilin exhaled without realizing she had been holding it.
She reached for the soup, pouring some into his bowl. "It'll help your body recover."
Xu Feng watched, smiling openly now.
Han didn't let anyone get this close. Not even Su Min.
Su Min's fingers tightened.
She stood suddenly, lifting a full bowl of hot soup.
"For you," she said to Meilin, smiling brightly.
As she handed it over—
The soup spilled.
"Ah—!"
Meilin's hand reddened instantly.
Zihan moved before he thought.
Tissues were pressed into her palm.
"…Wipe it," he said.
Xu Feng's smile vanished.
"It's okay," Meilin said softly. "Just a small blister. I'll put ointment later."
Su Min bit her lip.
Su Min's eyes followed Meilin.
Not openly. Not rudely.
But every time Meilin spoke to Xie Zihan, every time her chopsticks moved toward his bowl, Su Min's fingers tightened around her own.
Meilin noticed.
She noticed the way Su Min's smile arrived half a second too late.The way her gaze sharpened whenever Zihan answered Meilin.The way she repositioned herself—always closer to him.
But Meilin said nothing.
She had seen worse in her past life. This kind of jealousy was still… human.
During a lull in conversation, Meilin turned to Xu Feng.
"Is Su Min your sister?" she asked lightly, as if it were idle curiosity.
Xu Feng paused, then shook his head.
"No. But she's family."
Su Min stiffened slightly.
Xu Feng leaned back against the wall, his usual grin fading. "We grew up in the same orphanage. When we were twelve… there was a fire."
The room quieted.
"Only the three of us escaped," he continued. "After that, we stayed together. Wherever Han goes, Su Min follows. Wherever I go, they come too."
Meilin's fingers slowly curled around her cup.
Fire.
Her gaze flicked to Zihan—just for a moment.
So that's where the burn scars came from.
"I see," she said softly, nodding. "That kind of bond… doesn't break easily."
Lunch ended quietly.
When Meilin stood to leave, she realized—
Zihan was gone.
Her eyes dimmed, just a little.
Outside, the old colony road stretched long and uneven—an hour's walk back toward the university.
Footsteps sounded beside her.
She turned.
Zihan held out a small tube.
"…Burn ointment," he said. "The pharmacy's far."
Meilin's eyes widened—then softened.
A genuine smile bloomed on her face, bright and unguarded.
He remembered how uneasy he'd felt watching the soup spill on her hand.
Now, seeing her look at him like this—
Something warm filled his chest.
She extended her hand toward him.
"…Help me."