They didn't leave together.
At least, not obviously.
Shen Wei walked out first, not looking back, his pace unhurried as if the conversation inside had meant nothing. Lin An waited. Ten seconds. Maybe fifteen. Just long enough to make it look like coincidence, like she had her own reasons to leave.
Then she followed.
The night air hit colder this time, sharper against her skin, but it helped. The noise from the party faded quickly behind her, replaced by the distant hum of the city, steady and indifferent. For a moment, she just stood there, her eyes scanning the street, adjusting, recalibrating.
He was already across the road.
Of course he was.
Not waiting. Not checking if she came out. Just standing there, one hand in his pocket, the other loosely at his side, like he had all the time in the world and none of it mattered.
Lin An crossed the street.
"You don't like being seen together," she said as she stopped a few steps away from him.
"I don't like patterns," he replied.
"That sounds inconvenient."
"It's useful."
She let that sit for a second before asking, "Where are we going?"
"Not far."
"That's not an answer."
"It's enough."
Lin An studied him for a moment longer, then exhaled softly. "You do that a lot."
"Do what?"
"Answer just enough."
"And you ask too much."
"Because you don't say anything."
"That's not true."
A brief pause.
"I just don't say what you want."
That almost made her smile.
Almost.
"Fair," she said.
They started walking.
Not side by side. Not quite apart either. There was a distance between them that didn't feel accidental, like neither of them had decided it, but neither was willing to close it. The street wasn't empty, but it wasn't crowded either. People passed by without looking, without noticing, without caring.
Normal.
Lin An kept her gaze forward.
"In your version," she said after a while, "who was holding the knife?"
"No one you would recognize."
"That's not possible."
"It is."
She turned her head slightly. "You're saying I don't know the person who kills you?"
"I'm saying the person in the video isn't the point."
"Then what is?"
Shen Wei didn't answer immediately.
They reached a corner, the streetlights shifting as they passed under them, shadows moving across his face in a way that made it harder to read.
"The outcome," he said finally.
"That you die?"
"That one of us does."
The words settled between them.
Lin An didn't respond right away. She looked ahead again, her thoughts moving faster now, connecting pieces that didn't quite fit yet.
"You talk like you've seen this before," she said.
"I have."
Her steps slowed slightly.
"More than once?"
"Yes."
That made her stop.
This time, he did too.
She turned to face him fully, her eyes narrowing just a fraction. "How many times?"
"Enough."
"That's not an answer."
"It's the only one you're getting."
The tension between them shifted again.
Thicker.
Closer.
Lin An held his gaze for a second longer before speaking. "Then tell me this," she said. "In how many of those versions do I survive?"
A pause.
Not long.
But real.
"Not many," he said.
Something in her chest tightened.
Not fear.
Something sharper.
"Define 'not many.'"
"I'm still here," he replied.
That wasn't what she asked.
But it told her enough.
They stood there for a moment, neither moving, neither looking away. Then Shen Wei turned again without warning, continuing down the street as if the conversation had ended.
Lin An followed.
"Where exactly are we going?" she asked again.
This time, he answered.
"My place."
She didn't react immediately.
Then, "That seems fast."
"You suggested marriage."
"That doesn't mean I trust you."
"It doesn't mean you have a choice."
The words were calm.
Not threatening.
Just… certain.
Lin An glanced at him briefly, then forward again. "You're assuming I won't just walk away."
"You won't."
"And you know that how?"
"Because you came back tonight."
That—
was true.
She didn't argue.
They walked in silence after that, the city shifting subtly around them as they moved further away from the brighter streets into quieter ones, the buildings taller, cleaner, more controlled. It didn't take long before they stopped in front of one of them.
Glass.
Steel.
Minimal.
Cold.
Lin An looked up briefly, taking in the structure before lowering her gaze again.
"You live here?" she asked.
"Yes."
Of course he did.
Inside, everything was exactly what she expected and somehow still unsettling. Clean lines. Neutral colors. No clutter. No signs of a life actually being lived there. It felt less like a home and more like a space designed to exist without leaving traces.
"A place with no past," she said quietly.
Shen Wei glanced at her.
"Something like that."
She stepped further inside, her attention moving instinctively, scanning, observing, noting exits, corners, reflections. It wasn't something she was doing consciously anymore. It just… happened.
That realization made her pause for half a second.
Then she kept walking.
"Your room is upstairs," he said.
She nodded, already heading toward the stairs.
But as she passed him—
something made her stop.
Not a sound.
Not movement.
Just a feeling.
Familiar.
Wrong.
Her eyes shifted slightly.
To his hand.
The ring.
Still there.
Black.
Simple.
Unchanged.
For a second—
an image flashed in her mind.
Not clear.
Not complete.
Just—
blood.
Her hand tightening around something cold.
A voice she couldn't fully hear.
And the same ring—
closer.
Much closer than it should be.
Lin An blinked.
The image disappeared.
Gone like it had never been there.
"Something wrong?" Shen Wei asked.
His voice pulled her back immediately.
She looked at him.
Then shook her head slightly. "No."
A lie.
But not one she could explain.
She continued up the stairs.
The room he had given her was exactly what the rest of the place suggested. Clean. Minimal. No personal items. No history. Even the air felt untouched, like no one had ever stayed there long enough to leave anything behind.
Lin An stepped inside slowly.
Three days.
That was what the timestamp had said.
Three days until something happened.
Or had already happened.
She moved toward the window, her gaze drifting down to the street below. From this height, everything looked smaller. Distant. Easier to control.
Or easier to lose.
Her reflection caught faintly in the glass.
For a moment, she thought—
it moved.
Not with her.
Just slightly.
Lin An stilled.
Then turned.
Nothing.
The room was empty.
Exactly as it should be.
She exhaled slowly, forcing her shoulders to relax.
"Just stress," she murmured.
But the words didn't settle.
Not fully.
Outside, a car passed.
Somewhere in the distance, a siren cut briefly through the night before fading again.
Normal.
Everything was still normal.
Her phone vibrated.
Lin An looked down.
A new message.
No sender.
This time, it was shorter.
Don't trust him.
Her grip tightened.
For a second, she didn't move.
Then—
another message appeared.
Almost immediately after.
You trusted him last time.
Silence filled the room again.
Heavier now.
Closer.
Lin An stared at the screen, her mind racing through possibilities, through fragments that refused to form a full picture.
Last time.
That phrase again.
As if there had been something before this.
As if—
this wasn't the first version.
Her eyes lifted slowly.
Toward the door.
Closed.
Still.
Unmoving.
And yet—
for the briefest moment—
she was certain—
someone had been standing there.