[Kissing was disorienting, a little wild, a little out of control, with the faint scent of alcohol.]

Before heading to see Luo Siyu, the three of them first had brunch together. During the meal, Yan Lin gave an overview of the current state of the car accident case.

The driver who caused the accident seemed to be an experienced offender. Surveillance footage revealed that the person had been driving without a license on that day. It would likely take the police some time to identify the perpetrator, and even if they did catch him, it would be difficult to classify this as murder. The final outcome might not be satisfactory.

“What should we do?” Zhou Leqi frowned. “If it’s not classified as murder, how can we investigate the people behind him? Will this lead go cold?”

“Things may not go smoothly on the surface,” Yan Lin replied calmly, “but there’s still room for action behind the scenes.”

This was his way of saying he had a plan.

Zhou Leqi had always considered Yan Lin a reliable person, so hearing this reassured her somewhat. She pressed further: “What about when we meet Luo Siyu? Do you have any plans?”

Yan Lin thought for a moment before asking, “I don’t remember much about her. Did she go to college?”

Zhou Leqi thought for a bit and said, “I’m not sure, but it seems her education level isn’t very high.”

Yan Lin nodded. “That makes things easier. Leave it to me.”

After a pause, he glanced at Hou Zihao and Zhou Leqi sitting across from him and added, “I’ll handle it alone. If you two have other things to do, you can go ahead.”

After finishing their meal, they prepared to leave the restaurant. Zhou Leqi went to the restroom, leaving the two old friends who hadn’t seen each other in years sitting across from one another.

Neither spoke. The silence stretched endlessly. Especially since Hou Zihao hadn’t uttered a word since entering the restaurant, Yan Lin wasn’t familiar with this version of him. The friend he remembered was talkative and cheerful, far more open-minded than the self-conscious young man he himself had been due to poverty.

He hesitated, unsure whether to break the silence or how to continue the conversation afterward. But ultimately, another layer of complex emotions overcame his doubts, prompting him to speak first:

“I’m sorry… back then…”

“I’m sorry too… I…”

They spoke simultaneously—both apologizing.

Communication between adults is often brief, especially between long-lost acquaintances. Between them lay a bloody misunderstanding and seven years of estrangement. This exchange was already sufficient—at least enough for them to sense each other’s goodwill.

It was hard to say whose expression of kindness held more value, but it was Yan Lin who spoke first. He felt both awkward and relieved, managing to force out a sentence to his old friend: “…When your injury heals, you can punch me back.”

…Referring to the blow he’d dealt seven years ago.

Hou Zihao smiled faintly, clearly no longer holding a grudge. At the same time, he didn’t want the conversation to turn overly formal, so he replied teasingly, “No need. It didn’t hurt much.”

Yan Lin smiled too, though he knew Hou Zihao wasn’t being truthful. Back then, he’d struck hard—it must have hurt a lot.

Before the complex feelings could fully settle, Hou Zihao’s gaze shifted away. He turned his head, looking toward Zhou Leqi, who was walking back from the other end of the restaurant.

Even after all these years, the way he looked at her remained as pure as it had been in their youth. Yan Lin was familiar with this scene. In high school, every time Zhou Leqi stood up to answer a question, he would sit in the back row and watch her like this.

So fond of her, so focused.

At this moment, Yan Lin heard him say, “Thank you too… for coming all this way to help.”

Behind this casual statement lay deep emotion. Yan Lin could tell he was expressing gratitude for their arrival—in what had been a seemingly helpless situation, their presence brought comfort.

Yan Lin shrugged and also looked toward Zhou Leqi, who was approaching. As he stood up, he casually remarked, “She insisted on coming to help you. She said she believed in you. I was just persuaded by her.”

Hou Zihao didn’t respond, but his gaze toward the girl grew deeper.

After leaving the restaurant, Yan Lin obtained Luo Siyu’s address and Ding Peng’s contact information, then took a taxi alone. He said he would contact them again after speaking with her.

As a result, Zhou Leqi found herself temporarily idle. She had initially planned to find a café and start working remotely online, but when she turned around, she noticed Hou Zihao frequently checking his watch. She asked, “Do you have other plans?”

He looked at her, his expression hesitant, as if contemplating something. After a while, he replied in a low, hoarse voice, “I… want to see my mom.”

Zhou Leqi didn’t accompany Hou Zihao to visit Su Rui’ni because the prison’s review process was strict. Only immediate family members were allowed to visit during official hours, and applications had to be submitted one to two weeks in advance, undergoing rigorous approval. She didn’t meet the requirements and couldn’t enter.

She also didn’t feel right going in. The elder she had only seen in the news was both familiar and unfamiliar to her. She felt inexplicably reluctant to face her and knew better than to interfere with such a personal meeting. He said he would first visit the prison and that she could rest at home until he returned. She agreed.

She returned to his place. Throughout the day, she couldn’t focus on work, feeling uncomfortable with the white cloths covering everything. Eventually, she got up and started tidying up, removing all the dust covers and finding unused cleaning supplies in the storage room. After more than three hours of work, she managed to restore some semblance of the apartment’s original appearance.

She ordered takeout for herself, ate, and then spent some time scrolling through her phone. She learned that prison visits typically lasted only half an hour, meaning he should have finished seeing his mother by now, yet he hadn’t returned.

She didn’t call to check on him, patiently waiting instead. By the afternoon, she finally settled into work, making a few calls with Alvin and reviewing several documents. Before she knew it, evening had fallen.

By eleven o’clock, he still hadn’t returned. She hesitated with her phone for a long time but ultimately decided not to call him. After washing up, she went to rest in the guest room, tossing and turning for over half an hour before finally drifting off into a light sleep.

In the haze of sleep, she was suddenly awakened.

He had returned, carrying a hint of the night’s coolness but exuding heat. He was… kissing her.

She was confused, her mind not fully awake in the darkness. All she felt was his hand tightly gripping her waist. The kiss was disorienting, a little wild, a little out of control, with the faint scent of alcohol.

He had been drinking.

As her awareness gradually cleared, she began trying to push him away, but the strength of an adult man was overwhelming—she couldn’t break free. Besides, his kisses were like a sweet trap, each breath revealing his infatuation with her, making her heart soften more and more.

“Zhou Leqi...”

He called her name in the dark, his voice still hoarse. After calling her name, he didn’t speak again, just continued kissing her fiercely, as if reason had abandoned him and he didn’t want to sober up.

It took a long time for him to calm down, but he still refused to let her go, keeping her tightly encircled, his nose resting against the nape of her neck.

Her breathing was still uneven, a result of those overly passionate kisses. She stayed quiet for a long while, waiting for her breathing to stabilize before gently hugging his back, carefully avoiding his injured area as she softly patted him, asking, “...Are you okay?”

Are you okay?

Has your wound... started bleeding again?

He didn’t speak, as if he hadn’t heard her, or perhaps he had already fallen asleep.

She thought he wouldn’t reply, but after a while, she heard his voice, saying, “...Her hair got shorter.”

She was startled at first, unsure what he meant, but then realized he was referring to his mother—her hair had been cut short in prison.

She understood then that he wanted to confide in her.

She could be a good listener, gentle and patient. She embraced him lightly, calmly asking, “Did she look good like that?”

He fell silent for a moment, his response slow, as if he were thinking, or perhaps simply struggling against the alcohol-induced sluggishness of his brain. Finally, he said, “She looked nice... she was beautiful...”

After a pause, he added, “...But she was even more beautiful with long hair.”

Of course, she knew. His mother was incredibly beautiful, a woman who remained stunning even as she aged. She had the radiant charm of femininity and the unique poise of a professional—truly admirable.

She nodded, agreeing with him, though she had never actually met Su Rui’ni. Then she asked, “Hadn’t you seen her before?”

In the seven years since the incident... had he ever seen her?

He shook his head, his voice growing hoarser. “She...”

No further words followed.

But she could imagine. As a mother, Su Rui’ni surely didn’t want him to return to the country. She feared her child would suffer the same fate as her husband and didn’t want him to become a pawn in others’ fights over wealth. She wouldn’t allow him to return, and even if he came back, she might refuse to see him.

She was a strong woman.

She hugged him tighter, the smell of alcohol lingering in the room. Her heart ached as she asked, “Did you talk about anything?”

No.

They didn’t talk about anything.

They communicated through a thick pane of glass using phones, with guards present throughout. Their conversation was recorded, so he couldn’t ask her about the truth from seven years ago, nor could he tell her what was happening outside now. He couldn’t share his desperate, destructive plans with her. All he could do was watch her cry on the other side of the glass, repeatedly telling her: Mom... believe me.

Believe me, the truth will come to light, and justice will prevail.

Believe me, everything will get better.

Zhou Leqi didn’t hear him say anything else. She knew he was exhausted and in pain, so she stopped questioning him. Now, she only hoped he could get some sleep, and that by morning, the pain would dissipate and he would feel better.

“Sleep,” she whispered, snuggling close to him. “Don’t think about anything... just rest.”

Her gentle voice was the best solace, making him feel relaxed and safe, just as he had made her feel in their youth.

She stayed by his side until his erratic breathing gradually steadied, and she finally felt reassured. But as she gazed at him, she saw his eyes clouded by intoxication, deep and wavering, with the hazy glow characteristic of half-sleep.

He was truly drunk, as if he had just recognized her. His voice was so soft she could barely hear it, straining to catch the broken syllables:

“...Are you here to take me home?”