The storm had passed by morning, but the docks still smelled of smoke. Police tape fluttered around the charred shell of the warehouse like yellow ribbons of shame.
Mo Liuxian stood at the perimeter, raincoat unbuttoned, eyes fixed on the ruin. He looked immaculate, yet the soot along his cuff betrayed a truth only he and one woman knew.
"President Mo," the lead investigator said carefully, "our forensic team found partial documents intact inside the office vault. The name 'Bai Xueyi' appears on several manifests… and something called Project Bride. Do you know what that is?"
He didn't answer. The words felt like an echo of something he shouldn't have heard again. Bai Xueyi. The name alone tightened his chest in a way that reason couldn't explain.
"Focus on who authorized the warehouse maintenance," he said finally. "Someone tried to erase evidence twice."
The officer nodded, retreating.
Liuxian remained there, gaze following the smoke spirals still rising from the wreckage. He didn't notice that the woman whose name haunted those ashes was already watching him—from across the street, hidden beneath a black umbrella.
Bai Xueyi watched the man who had once been her world, her cage, and her executioner.
He was the same—controlled, calculating, yet there was something new in his posture. Tension, not pride. Doubt.
"You never looked back before," she murmured under her breath. "Now you chase ghosts."
She turned from the window as a new message blinked across her phone screen:
Anonymous: The one who lit the fire works for the Mo family still. Check the security division. Code name: 'Echo.'
Her eyes narrowed. "Echo."
The name scraped something at the edge of her memory—the sound of a voice during her last moments alive. A man shouting "Go!" before the explosion swallowed everything.
She began typing, sending an encrypted search through underground databases.
Within seconds, one name flashed back.
Han Ze.
Head of Security, Mo Financial Empire.
That evening, Liuxian returned to his private office. The city glittered beneath him, yet he couldn't shake the image of the woman in the black dress, her eyes glimmering like something half-remembered.
He opened the folder his assistant had compiled. CCTV captures, fragments of fingerprints, and a single photo from an old database—a face tagged Deceased: Bai Xueyi, fire accident, year 20XX.
The resemblance hit him like a blow.
"Impossible," he whispered. "She's dead."
He leaned back, closing his eyes, but the echo of her voice refused to fade.
You buried me once, Mo Liuxian. This time, I'll be the one digging your grave.
He opened his eyes again, colder than before.
"Get Han Ze in here," he told his assistant. "Now."
Meanwhile, Bai Xueyi stood on the rooftop of a neighboring building, watching the Mo Financial Tower glow like a glass sword in the night. Her phone buzzed again.
Xiao Rou: Miss, the package you requested has been delivered. There's something strange inside—it's a file from the company archives.
Bai Xueyi: Send it.
A moment later, her screen filled with scanned pages—old memos, purchase records, signatures. One line stopped her breath:
Mo Liuxian — Approved expenditure for "Fire Containment Test – Project Bride."
Her fingers trembled. "So it was you," she whispered. "You signed my death."
But a second sheet slid into view. The ink at the bottom was different.
Authorized by: Han Ze (Security Division)
Document status: Forged signature.
Her chest tightened—not with relief, but with confusion.
"Then who were you protecting, Liuxian?"
Inside the Mo Tower, Han Ze entered the CEO's office. The man's calm, unreadable smile met Mo Liuxian's glare.
"President Mo, you wanted to see me?"
Liuxian slid a photo across the desk—one of the warehouse blueprints. "You were in charge of this site's security. Explain why your signature is on it."
"I manage dozens of warehouses. That one wasn't on my list."
"Then why did you order additional solvent shipments last week?"
The man's smile didn't falter. "You know how it works. Paper trails can be… misinterpreted."
Liuxian's gaze sharpened. "Misinterpret this: if I find your hand in that fire, you'll wish you'd burned with it."
Han Ze inclined his head politely. "Then I'll hope your evidence survives the flames next time."
He left without waiting for dismissal.
From the window, Liuxian watched the man disappear into the elevator. For the first time in years, doubt crept into his certainty.
"If not him," he muttered, "then who is controlling all of this?"
Outside, the rain began again—soft, relentless.
On the rooftop opposite, Bai Xueyi whispered to the storm,
"You will remember, Mo Liuxian. Even if it kills us both."
The wind caught her voice and carried it toward the glass tower where he stood—two souls staring across a city of lies, neither knowing the other was still alive.