Waking from the darkness.
Her blurred vision slowly came into focus, and the first thing she saw was the all-too-familiar ceiling.
Jiang Nuan sat up in the soft, sun-warmed blankets and stretched contentedly.
It felt like she'd had a long, horrible nightmare.
The dream had been a carnival of the bizarre—a pitch-black underground tunnel, a hideous monster reeking of something rotten, and... the smell of gunpowder.
She'd even dreamed that a man in a black combat uniform was carrying her over his shoulder at a dead sprint, firing a gun one-handed, his back and shoulders hard as an iron board, digging into her stomach until it ached.
He'd turned his head to glance back at her, she thought. What color were his eyes?
Jiang Nuan tried to remember. She couldn't.
"What a mess of nonsense."
She muttered the words under her breath and rubbed her temples.
She swung her legs over the side of the bed and set her bare feet on the wooden floor. The cool touch sharpened her senses.
The bedroom was decorated exactly the way she loved—cozy and warm. Morning light squeezed through the gap in the curtains, dragging soft golden streaks across the floorboards.
On the nightstand sat an enamel mug she and Bai Siyuan had picked up at a market stall in District A of Jingang City. It had a round, roly-poly little deer printed on its side.
She remembered the day they bought it. Bai Siyuan had said the deer's expression looked just like her when she spaced out, and she'd chased him around the whole house for ages.
In the vase beside the sofa was a bouquet of roses, their petals so vivid they looked like they'd just been snipped from a greenhouse, beads of water still clinging to the leaves.
Everything was familiar beyond familiar.
It had been so long since she'd crossed over into this world that Jiang Nuan had long since gotten used to life here.
From the early days scraping by with Bai Siyuan in the refugee district, to when he was taken back by the Bai family—and not long after, he'd brought her along too.
A lot had happened in between. The harassment from the Bai elders, the undercurrents of scheming and infighting in the main house, and the endless sleepless nights she'd spent by his side as he slowly gained a foothold.
Looking back, none of it had been easy. But the hardest part was over now.
Bai Siyuan had taken full control of the Bai family. And she—she could finally, in this turbulent world, rest easy as the little sister sheltered under his wing.
At least, that's what she believed.
Jiang Nuan pushed open the bedroom door, walked down the hallway, and made her way to the study with practiced ease.
The study door was half-closed. Light streamed in through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
Bai Siyuan sat behind the wide desk.
He wore a soft white shirt, its collar slightly open, revealing pale, sharply defined collarbones. Black hair hung loosely over his forehead, and his long lashes cast a faint shadow beneath his eyes.
At that moment, he was leaning over, a fountain pen in hand, writing intently in a black hardcover notebook.
He looked so focused, like he was reviewing some top-secret document that could decide the fate of the entire family.
So absorbed was he that he didn't notice Jiang Nuan's approach at first.
Jiang Nuan tilted her head, curiosity piqued.
She lightened her steps and moved two paces closer, until she was nearly at the edge of the desk.
"What are you writing?"
Bai Siyuan's pen paused.
He looked up and saw a bleary-eyed Jiang Nuan standing at the edge of the desk, her hair a bit of a mess.
"Up already?" Bai Siyuan's tone was gentle, as natural as any ordinary morning. "Why not sleep a little longer?"
As he spoke, he casually closed the notebook without a flicker of hesitation.
"What are you writing, big brother?" Jiang Nuan leaned in a little. "So absorbed you didn't even notice me come in."
"Just some work notes. Nothing interesting." Bai Siyuan smiled, his tone completely casual.
"...Stingy!" Jiang Nuan pouted.
Not letting me see, huh? Fine.
She'd find a time when he wasn't around. And then she'd look.
Bai Siyuan paid her little fit no mind. His gaze drifted downward and landed on her bare, pale feet.
His smile faded half a shade.
"Why aren't you wearing shoes?"
Before Jiang Nuan could answer, Bai Siyuan had already stood, walked around the desk, and come to stand in front of her.
The next second, he bent down and scooped her up in his arms.
Jiang Nuan started, instinctively wrapping her arms around his neck: "Brother! What are you doing?!"
"The floor's cold." Bai Siyuan's tone was mild, but his grip tightened, showing no sign of putting her down.
Jiang Nuan felt the fabric of his shirt collar brush against her arm, cool to the touch, and beneath it, the firm outline of his collarbone.
He carried her steadily—one hand supporting her back, the other hooked under her knees—and walked with an even, unhurried pace.
He set her down gently on the sofa in the corner of the study.
Then, from the low cabinet beside the sofa, he pulled out a pair of soft house slippers.
He crouched down in front of her.
One hand cradled her ankle, the other held up a slipper.
His fingers were long, with pronounced knuckles. Carefully, he guided her foot inside. When his fingertips brushed across the top of her foot, Jiang Nuan instinctively pulled back.
Bai Siyuan's fingers tightened just slightly, not letting her pull away.
"Don't move."
He looked up at her.
From this angle, his lashes looked especially long, the curve of his eyes extraordinarily beautiful.
Morning light poured in from the floor-to-ceiling windows behind him, gilding his shoulders and the tips of his hair in a thin layer of warmth.
And there he was, face tilted up to look at her, his gaze quiet and utterly focused.
Like nothing else in the world mattered but this.
Jiang Nuan pressed her lips together and looked away.
"...Fine."
Bai Siyuan lowered his gaze, slipping her left foot into its slipper with focused care, then her right. His movements were slow, meticulous, his fingertips occasionally grazing the skin of her ankle, sending faint tingles up her leg.
When he was done, he didn't stand up right away. He stayed in his crouched position, looking up at her.
From that angle, she could see the delicate shadow his lashes cast beneath his eyes.
"Remember to wear your shoes from now on," he said, his fingers still resting against the side of her ankle, not pulling away. "Otherwise, I'll worry."
Jiang Nuan nodded in promise. "Got it, big brother."
Only then did Bai Siyuan stand.
Jiang Nuan looked down at the slippers on her feet.
Her toes curled slightly.
Bai Siyuan had already returned to his seat behind the desk, picked up his pen, and seemed ready to resume the work he'd been interrupted from.
Jiang Nuan sat on the sofa, but her gaze drifted, almost involuntarily, to the tightly shut drawer.
She really was curious.
What had her brother been writing?
And what was there to hide in some work notes?
That afternoon, Bai Siyuan left for a meeting.
Jiang Nuan lay on the bed flipping through a novel, but she couldn't get into it. She got up, went to the table, and took a piece of red bean cake, biting into it as the dense, sweet flavor melted on her tongue.
Then she suddenly remembered the way Bai Siyuan had closed that notebook this morning.
If he wouldn't let her see, she was going to look. She had to!
Jiang Nuan bit her lower lip, kicked off her shoes, and padded barefoot to the study on quiet, careful steps.
The door wasn't locked.
She turned the handle gently. The door opened a crack, no sound at all.
The study was empty. Before he'd left, Bai Siyuan had pulled the sheer curtains shut over the floor-to-ceiling windows, and the afternoon light filtered through in soft, muted tones onto the desk.
Jiang Nuan sidled through the gap, her heart beating a little faster than usual.
She couldn't say why—it was her own home, after all, and she was only curious about what her brother had written—yet she felt a guilty, sneaking sensation, as if she were stealing something.
She walked to the desk, her gaze landing on that drawer.
Her fingers touched the handle.
She paused for a beat.
She tilted her head, listening toward the hallway. No sound at all.
Bai Siyuan had said the meeting would run until evening.
There was still time.
Jiang Nuan gently pulled the drawer open.
A black notebook lay pressed beneath several files.
She lifted it out, holding it in her hands.
It had some weight to it.
Before opening it, she instinctively glanced at the doorway again.
The hallway remained quiet.
Jiang Nuan turned to the first page.
Bai Siyuan's neat handwriting met her eyes.
[The first time I saw her was in the rubble piles east of the refugee zone. She was huddled in a corner, filthy, with only her eyes—bright, startlingly bright.]
Jiang Nuan froze.
Is this... about her?
She kept reading.
Every page that followed recorded mundane daily life, but every sentence concerned her.
[She's afraid of thunder. On stormy days she always curls up in a corner, wrapping herself tightly in a blanket. I can only sit beside her and wait until she falls asleep.]
[She loves sweets, but what sweet things could exist in the refugee zone?]
[I found half a piece of red bean cake. She was so happy her eyes curved into crescents. But she couldn't bear to eat it—only took a tiny bite each time. Eventually it went bad, and she was upset for days.]
[She's very clever. I picked up a book from the old world, and she could understand all of it. She read it aloud to me, saying the world used to be beautiful.]
...
The handwriting grew messier.
[Life in the Bai household is harder than I imagined, but to rescue her, I need to try even harder.]
[In the future... I will eliminate every person involved.]
Jiang Nuan's fingers trembled slightly.
She instinctively turned to the next page.
But the pages that followed were all blank.
Nothing at all.
As if there had been a long stretch of time when he wrote nothing.
Or perhaps he didn't know what to write. Or perhaps the things that happened in that period couldn't be carried by ink.
Blank page after blank page, and Jiang Nuan's heart sank a little more with each one.
Then, the handwriting became neat again.
Like a person emerging from some long, tangled chaos, sitting up straight once more, steadying the pen again.
Her page-turning slowed, and her eyes began to sting.
The further she got, the neater the handwriting became—clearly written with growing care.
The final few pages were written with extraordinary gentleness:
[I suddenly realize I already have too much. She is here. Healthy. Safe. Smiling at me.]
Jiang Nuan's nose stung with warmth.
She turned to the last page.
[Only one question remains.]
[She should belong to me alone.]
Jiang Nuan stared at those words for a long time.
From the depths of her heart rose a sore, warm fullness, like something lodged in her chest that wouldn't dissolve.
Brother... so this is how he's always thought of her.
But somehow, beneath the gratitude, a faint unease was stirred by that sentence.
She closed the notebook, put it back in the drawer, and shut it gently.
Standing by the desk, she was silent for a long while.
Outside the window came the chirping of birds. The warm afternoon sun fell softly on her shoulders.
Everything was fine.
Everything was safe.
She turned to leave quietly.
Then her gaze swept across the desk's surface.
Right beside the fountain pen and ink bottle, near the edge of the desk, there was an extremely faint mark.
Jiang Nuan halted.
She leaned in closer, examining it.
It was a vertical-pupil pattern—like the outline of an eye—golden.
It stood there, abrupt, as if... it had just appeared.
Jiang Nuan stared at the pattern, and her heart skipped a beat.
This symbol—she felt she'd seen it somewhere before.
...It felt familiar.
The vertical pupil was still on the desk.
Golden.
Cold.
Silently watching her.
As if it were saying:
[Wake up.]
