The car hummed gently as it rolled through the city. Rain streaked faint lines on the tinted windows, soft enough to blur the scenery into watercolor smudges. Inside, the air was warm, but Lin Qing Yun curled slightly against the seat, her head leaning on the glass.
She was asleep.
Sleep, for her, was never peaceful anymore.
In her dream, the past came like knives: the debt collector's voice sharp in her ears, rough hands grabbing at her. Then Si Yao's frightened face. The fall. The sound of her body hitting the ground. The white sheet that covered her in the morgue, still not heavy enough to contain what was lost.
The scene shifted.
Now it was just Qing Yun herself, walking in a dark, endless place. No light. No sound. Only her footsteps, echoing into nothing. She kept walking until her legs gave way. Then suddenly, water swallowed her whole. It rushed into her lungs, pulling her down, deeper, darker. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't move.
But she didn't fight.
She simply let herself drown.
Qing Yun jolted awake, breath caught in her throat. Her temples throbbed as though the dream had sunk its claws into her skull.
"Are you okay?"
The voice was low, familiar.
She turned slightly. Xu Wei Ran sat beside her in the backseat, his sharp features softened by worry. His brows drew together as he reached out, brushing back a stray strand of her hair. His hand lingered on her head, warm and steady.
Qing Yun swallowed, nodded faintly. "Mm."
Wei Ran's touch grew gentler. "We're almost there. Rest a little more if you can."
She didn't answer. She turned her gaze to the window, where raindrops slid down in crooked trails.
---
The car pulled to a stop before a towering hotel. Its name gleamed in gold letters, a franchise recognized across the country. Uniformed staff hurried forward, opening doors with practiced smiles.
The moment Xu Wei Ran stepped out, whispers rippled through the staff. Recognition flashed in their eyes, and their politeness deepened into reverence. His fame moved before him, smoothing paths with invisible hands.
Qing Yun followed quietly at his side, her expression calm. To them, she looked like an assistant—composed, understated, her gaze steady.
Inside, a concierge led them directly to the presidential suite. The doors opened into a space of opulence: high ceilings, marble floors, a sweeping view of the city through floor-to-ceiling windows. Two bedrooms, a sitting area, a private dining room. Everything was polished to perfection.
Qing Yun walked in without awe. She'd long stopped being impressed by luxury.
---
Not long after, there was a knock at the door.
The hotel manager entered personally, posture straight, smile warm but cautious. "Mr. Xu, is there anything I can help you with?"
Wei Ran didn't waste time. "I'm looking for someone who used to work here. Lin Hui Zhen."
At the name, the manager's expression flickered. He recovered quickly, bowing slightly. "Yes, I know her. But she is no longer with us."
Wei Ran leaned forward, his voice steady but pressing. "Do you still have her contact information? Or a last known address?"
The manager hesitated, eyes darting briefly to Qing Yun—still standing quietly near the window. Something unreadable flickered across her face, but she didn't speak.
Finally, the manager nodded. "I will check our records. Please give me some time."
He bowed again and excused himself, leaving the suite in silence.
---
Qing Yun turned to Wei Ran, her voice soft. "Thank you… Without you, I wouldn't even get this far."
Wei Ran shook his head, his gaze steady on her. "Don't thank me. Helping you—it's something I've always wanted to do. Something I should do."
The weight of his words pressed against the air, but Qing Yun let them pass without response. She only looked away, walking slowly to the window.
The city spread below in muted colors, buildings crowding together, the river a dull ribbon through it all. Though it was still daytime, the sky pressed heavy with clouds, turning everything gray.
She stood there a long time, her silhouette slender against the glass. From behind, her stillness was elegant, but Wei Ran knew better. He had always known that her calm was not peace but endurance.
He watched her quietly, not daring to disturb her thoughts.
---
Time passed. The soft chime of the doorbell broke the silence.
Wei Ran moved quickly to answer. The manager stood outside, discreetly handing him a folded slip of paper. "We located it. Her last known address."
Wei Ran accepted it with both hands, bowing his head slightly. "Thank you."
The manager returned the bow and left.
Wei Ran closed the door, turned back toward the window. Qing Yun hadn't moved, but her eyes flickered briefly toward him.
"We have it," he said quietly. "Do you want to go now?"
Qing Yun didn't hesitate. She picked up her small bag, slung it over her shoulder, and walked toward him.
"Let's go."
---
The suite door closed behind them, swallowing the warmth of marble and gold.
Qing Yun's steps were calm, her back straight, her face unreadable. Inside, though, her pulse quickened. Somewhere in this city was her mother—ghost or reality, she didn't know. But the trail was finally opening, and she was walking it, one steady step at a time.
Xu Wei Ran followed beside her, silent, his presence a shield she hadn't asked for but couldn't deny.
And so they left the hotel, into the gray afternoon, chasing a name that had once been everything and nothing all at once: Lin Hui Zhen.