The castle swallowed them whole.
The doors closed with a sound too soft for something so final, like a promise being sealed rather than wood meeting stone. Inside, warmth bloomed instantly. Golden light spilled from chandeliers carved with ancient symbols. The air smelled faintly of incense and old paper, like history kept alive through ritual.
Qin Yuelin's eyes widened as he stepped further in. Polished marble floors reflected their figures, making them look doubled, distorted, as if another version of them walked beneath their feet. Tall shelves lined the walls, filled with books bound in leather and silk, scrolls tied with red thread, artifacts that looked far too old to belong to one man.
Servants appeared without a sound.
They bowed deeply to Wen Jun, then moved with quiet precision. A glass of water placed gently into Zhao Liren's shaking hands. Fresh juice for Qin Yuelin. Tea for Shen Lian. Snacks arranged neatly, untouched, unnecessary.
Zhao barely noticed.
His chest felt tight. His heart was racing, slamming against his ribs like it wanted out.
They sat.
Wen Jun took the central seat, posture relaxed, as if this was not a castle but merely another room he had been in a thousand times before. Qin Yuchen stood near the window, arms folded, gaze distant, watching the mountains beyond the glass.
Shen Lian finally spoke.
"Qin Yuchen," he said quietly. "We thought you were dead. The case was closed. No body, no trace. Just… gone."
Qin Yuchen did not turn. "Some disappearances are intentional."
Zhao snapped.
"ENOUGH."
The word cracked through the room, raw and panicked.
"How the hell do you know him?" Zhao shouted, standing abruptly. His chair scraped loudly against the marble. "Shen, enough of your lies. Enough of your half-truths. You knew things you shouldn't. You said you saw a woman like Yuelin before. You lied to him. You lied to me."
His voice broke.
"Now tell us the truth. All of it. Why did you know Yuelin before you met him? Why did you lie?"
Shen Lian stared at the floor.
For a long moment, no one spoke.
Then he exhaled, shaky and uneven.
"Fine," he whispered. "I'll tell you."
His fingers trembled as he clenched them into fists.
"I was nine."
The room seemed to dim.
FLASHBACK
Beijing, years ago.
The apartment was small but always smelled of jasmine. Shen Lian remembered that more than anything. The soft hum of the city outside. The sound of heels clicking on the floor every evening when his mother returned home.
Her name was Lin Meiyu.
She was beautiful in a way that felt unreal to a child. Long black hair she tied loosely at home. Skin pale and warm. Eyes that smiled even when her mouth didn't. Men noticed her everywhere. Shen noticed how their gazes lingered, how their voices softened.
But to Shen, she was just Mama.
He was adopted. He knew that. She had told him gently one night, holding him close, promising that love mattered more than blood. And he believed her. Because she loved him fiercely, protectively, like the world could never take him from her.
One evening, she brought someone home.
A man in an expensive suit. Tall. Smiling too politely.
"This is Uncle Qin," she said, resting a hand on Shen's shoulder. "We're going to get married."
Shen did not understand marriage, but he nodded because she looked happy.
They moved soon after.
A big flat. Tall windows. Soft carpets. Food he had only seen in pictures. The man visited only a few nights a week. When he did, Lin Meiyu dressed carefully, spoke softly.
Everything felt fragile.
Then one night, Lin Meiyu smiled through tears.
"I'm pregnant," she told the man.
The air changed.
The man's face twisted. Rage poured out of him, sudden and violent.
"Get rid of it," he hissed.
She shook her head, clutching her stomach. "It's our child."
The argument escalated. Voices rose. Shen watched from the doorway, frozen.
The push happened so fast.
Lin Meiyu fell backward.
Glass shattered.
Her head struck the table.
She did not get up.
Shen screamed.
The man stood there, breathing hard, staring at what he had done.
Then he grabbed Shen.
Dragged him out.
Shen cried, begged, screamed for his mother. He tried to run back. He tried to bite. He tried to fight.
The man whispered threats into his ear.
"If you make a sound, you die too."
Men were sent.
Lin Meiyu was buried like she had never existed.
No trace.
No justice.
Shen's voice cracked as he continued.
"He took me with him," Shen whispered. "Because I saw everything."
FLASHBACK CONTINUES
The house was enormous.
Too quiet.
There was a woman there. Gentle. Confused. She smiled at Shen and asked his name. She fed him. She brushed his hair. She did not know why he was there.
She was Qin Yuelin's mother.
And there was a baby.
Tiny. Soft. Wrapped in blankets.
Qin Yuelin.
Shen remembered standing beside the crib, staring down at him. A life that would never know what its father truly was.
And there was another boy.
Almost the same age as Shen.
Qin Yuchen.
They shared a room. Shared toys. Shared whispered conversations at night.
For a moment, Shen thought he had a family again.
A week later, he was sent away.
Boarding school.
No goodbye.
No explanation.
Just gone.
The flashback ended.
The room was silent.
Shen lifted his head, eyes red but dry.
"I became a detective because I wanted revenge," he said softly. "Because I wanted justice. For my mother. For myself."
Zhao Liren sat back down slowly, stunned.
Qin Yuelin's hands trembled in his lap.
Wen Jun closed his eyes.
Qin Yuchen finally turned toward Shen.
"So you remembered us," he said quietly.
Shen nodded. "I never forgot."
The truth hung heavy between them.
And somewhere deep within the castle, something ancient listened.
END OF THE CHAPTER.