Ten years.
Summer Wen's coldness was like ice, but beneath it, fleeting moments of flustered hesitation revealed something Nian Su couldn't read.
Nian's fingers curled lightly. Her heart wasn't heavy with resentment or anger. It was fluttering—careful, bittersweet, almost guilty excitement. Ten years of silent longing, from adolescence to now, she had never imagined meeting Summer again—especially like this. Her fingertips brushed the scar on her wrist unconsciously. Her heartbeat skipped. She didn't dare overthink it. Surely, Summer's earlier fluster had nothing to do with her personally—it was just professional distance. After all, ten years ago, Summer had walked away so coldly. How could she have cared at all?
"Nian! Over here!"
A familiar voice pulled her back. Nian lifted her eyes. Zoe Xia leaned against a white sedan, dressed in a bright cropped jacket, hair tied in a high ponytail. Her expressive eyebrows were etched with concern, and she held an extra light jacket in her hands.
Nian approached. Zoe immediately stepped forward, draping the jacket over her shoulders, poking her arm with a teasing jab. Her voice was sharp, but her eyes betrayed worry.
"My dear, finally! After all that questioning, you weren't hurt, were you? I heard the prosecutor handling this smuggling case is infamous for being cold and strict. Did she give you a hard time?"
Nian shook her head and slid into the passenger seat. Her gaze drifted over the passing city streets.
"No… she didn't. It's just…"
Her words faltered.
Summer Wen's face haunted her—those dark amber eyes, so precise, yet tinged with something unspoken. The mole behind her left ear, hidden under loose hair. The memory of that rainy night ten years ago, when Summer silently shielded her from troublemakers. Every image overlapped in Nian's mind, sending a shiver up her fingertips. She didn't dare speak, didn't dare admit the decade of hidden longing. She didn't dare hope Summer had felt the same.
Zoe noticed the subtle tension and started the car. Her gaze flicked to Nian's clenched fingers. Concern deepened.
"What's wrong? Did that prosecutor give you trouble? Or is Victor Qin involved? That guy has always been tricky. I never trusted him when you signed on to his brand. And now, getting dragged into a smuggling case? Ugh…"
"It's not Victor. And she didn't make things difficult," Nian interrupted, turning to Zoe with a hint of bewilderment. "The prosecutor… is Summer Wen."
Summer Wen?
Zoe slammed on the brakes. The car jolted slightly. She turned to Nian, disbelief written across her face.
"You mean… the Summer Wen who disappeared without a word ten years ago?!"
Nian nodded, eyes glistening.
"Yes. I never expected to see her again—like this."
Silence fell. Zoe pressed her lips together before speaking through gritted teeth.
"That bastard! Vanished without a word, leaving you alone and upset… and now she's a prosecutor, interrogating you? Did she do anything? Mention the past?"
"She didn't. And I didn't ask," Nian said softly. Fingers traced the scar on her wrist, warmth she had imagined all these years. "She only asked about Victor and the smuggling leads. I told her everything honestly. But… I feel like she's hiding something. Her gaze… it's not how she looks at an ordinary witness. But I can't think too much. Ten years ago, she left so decisively… maybe she never cared for me at all."
Her voice carried a faint self-deprecation, a decade of unspoken affection wrapped in humility.
Zoe frowned, starting the car again, voice firm.
"Victor Qin is ambitious and dangerous. If he dares test a prosecutor, this is serious. And Summer… her sudden disappearance back then? Probably tied to this mess too. Nian, you have to be careful. Don't let them drag you in—you won't get out easily."
Nian stayed silent, staring out the window. Her doubts thickened. Summer's icy distance. Victor's threats. Ten-year-old misunderstandings. Hidden obsessions—all tangled like a knot she couldn't untangle. Her fingers brushed the edge of her phone.
Her mind flashed to the harbor photo from the interrogation room—Victor with an unknown man, cargo ship in the background. The markings seemed familiar. Without a sound, she retrieved her phone and quietly reconstructed the photo's key details in a backup. Fingers moved fast, then the phone slipped back into her pocket, eyes resolute.
Victor's mind was meticulous. Every precaution was survival. Perhaps, just perhaps, this could also help the one who couldn't admit her own heart.
Meanwhile, at the Municipal Prosecutor's Office…
Summer Wen stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, eyes locked on the white car carrying Nian, watching it fade into traffic. Her dark amber eyes churned with complex emotions: nervous longing, restrained hesitation, deep-seated self-doubt.
She had loved Nian for ten years—from that first spark of adolescence to this distant, longing gaze. She still felt unworthy.
And the anonymous text from Victor, mentioning her mother's past… the chains of history kept her from confessing.
Arden Lin burst in, nearly colliding with the desk, laptop in hand. Flustered, yet efficient.
"Prosecutor Wen, we've got leads. I accelerated the tracing of Victor Qin's funds. Faster than expected." He set the laptop down, fingers flying across the keyboard, pulling up spreadsheets.
"Look, that anonymous fund under Victor's name went to a shell company in Southeast Asia. That shell is tied to the Cohen family—the same family your mother collaborated with during her overseas research."
Summer stiffened. She moved to the desk, leaning over the screen, fingers clutching the edge until her knuckles whitened. The Cohen family. A stone on her chest. A key part of her mother's overseas ordeal, a wound she had avoided, the threat Victor wielded in his text. And the reason she hadn't dared approach Nian—afraid her past would drag the girl she loved into danger.
"I need more," she said, hoarse but controlled, eyes sharpening.
"Also, the surveillance of Miss Su's wrist injury ten years ago has been deleted. No trace remains. Likely intentional. And the footage outside the prosecutor's office—after she left, a black car followed her. Unknown plate, probably Victor's men. I've passed the details to our field agents."
"What?" Summer's face hardened. Murder in her eyes.
"Immediately tail that black car. Keep Nian safe—at all costs. Also, dig deeper into the Cohen family and Victor Qin's connection. Find every scrap about my mother's research. I need the full picture."
"Yes, Prosecutor Wen. On it!" Arden replied, turning to leave, but Summer called after him.
"Wait. Track Nian's recent schedule. Her dealings with Victor—every detail."
"Yes, Prosecutor Wen."
Alone again, Summer sat at her desk, fingers brushing the small photo attached to Nian's testimony. Her touch lingered over Nian's features. Tender, yet self-conscious. Unlike the icy prosecutor she projected, she felt unworthy of this radiant, adored girl.
Her mother's secret, Victor's schemes, the smuggling case—all chains she carried.
Tracking Nian, protecting her quietly—that was the only solace she allowed herself. To watch her, even from afar. To shield her. Ten years later, that was enough.
In Zoe's car, Nian glanced through the rearview mirror. A black sedan trailed them—close, but not aggressive. Her chest tightened. Victor Qin never let go.
Her palm brushed her phone; no messages. Yet a tiny, unworthy hope stirred—perhaps a reminder from Summer, even just duty-bound. She smirked bitterly, calling herself foolish. Summer Wen cared too little for a "mere witness."
"Zoe," she said, voice tight, "there's a car following us."
Zoe checked the mirror, face darkening.
"Damn. Victor's people. Don't worry, Nian. I'll shake them off!"
The car surged forward, weaving through traffic. The black sedan followed relentlessly.
Unseen, another car watched everything. A figure dialed a number.
"Prosecutor Wen. Miss Su is being tailed. Ms. Xia is handling it. Should we intervene?"
Summer's voice came cold, piercing, unwavering. But her fingers trembled slightly on the phone, knuckles white.
"No. Monitor closely. Don't reveal your identity. If she's in danger, act immediately—whatever it takes. Protect her."
She added softly, almost involuntarily:
"Report any movement immediately."
Phone down. Fingers clutching it tightly. Eyes burning with sharp resolve.
One thought alone consumed her:
Nian cannot be harmed. Not under any circumstances.
Victor Qin—if he dares touch her, he will pay dearly.
She stood by the window, watching the car disappear. The mole behind her ear caught the light—hidden, tender, restrained. She couldn't let Nian see her devotion, her decade-long love. Watching from afar, protecting her quietly, was already a luxury she barely allowed herself.