PROLOGUE:

Ruan Zhizhi was bundled up in a thick down jacket, sitting in a bustling café in downtown A City, staring gloomily at a messy stack of newspapers spread out on the table in front of her.

This winter in A City seemed even colder than last year.

With a sigh, she reached out and picked up an old, slightly worn copy of People’s Daily. The front page was dominated by a headline about a wealthy businessman who, after discovering his wife’s affair, harbored resentment and meticulously planned her murder.

As a junior reporter still in her probation period, Ruan Zhizhi’s boss had recently assigned all the interns a task: find a real news case, collect information, and write a professional news report independently.

So lately, Ruan Zhizhi had been poring over past major news stories, studying how experienced journalists conducted interviews, wrote reports, and crafted compelling articles.

In truth, crimes of passion like this happened in every city almost every day. Even though she was still a probationary reporter, Ruan Zhizhi had already grown somewhat desensitized to such cases.

But the reason she chose this old case as her topic was because there was something special about it.

The businessman hadn’t acted on impulse. After learning about his wife’s affair, he carried out a detailed, well-thought-out plan to murder her. His crime was so seamless, so flawless, that if not for one witness, he probably would’ve gotten away with it.

That witness was a little boy, only seven years old.

The businessman’s and his wife’s biological son.

Ruan Zhizhi lowered her head and took a sip of black coffee from her porcelain cup. The bitter taste slowly spread across her tongue. Holding the slightly yellowed newspaper, her gaze unconsciously fixed on a dark-toned photo in the lower right corner of the page.

It was of a pale-faced boy, his eye sockets slightly sunken, faint bluish shadows beneath his eyes. He looked gloomy and detached. In the photo, he stood quietly by the door, his back perfectly straight, his pitch-black eyes staring into the camera — deep, bottomless.

A child of only seven… yet he had such a chilling, soul-piercing gaze. After witnessing his own father brutally murder his mother, he had been able to remain calm and composed enough to report it to the police.

This child’s mental strength was something even most adults couldn’t hope to match.

Pulling her thoughts away from the photo, Ruan Zhizhi shook her head and forced herself to focus, carefully reading through the interviews and reports senior journalists had done on this case.

Because she’d been born prematurely, Ruan Zhizhi’s constitution had always been weaker than most people’s. After about an hour, her head started spinning.

She reached for the delicate porcelain plate on the table, only to realize the last bite of macaron was already gone.

Because of her health, she’d relied on sweets since she was little — to keep her blood sugar up, to keep her brain active.

Stretching lazily, Ruan Zhizhi got up from her seat, planning to head to the counter and order another set of macarons.

Just as she walked over, wallet in hand, she brushed past a tall stranger wearing a black down jacket, his head slightly lowered.

She wouldn’t have noticed him if he weren’t so tall — when standing face-to-face, she didn’t even reach his chest. In Ruan Zhizhi’s impression, extremely tall men often had a slight hunch when they walked, but this man was different.

His back was perfectly straight, exuding a faint sense of pressure as he strode past her without so much as a glance.

In his slender, elegant left hand, he lazily carried a small box tied with a pink ribbon.

Hmm… that box looked a little familiar.

Perhaps it was to create a cozy ambiance, but the café’s ceiling lights were quite dim, casting subtle shadows on the man’s sharp, handsome side profile as he passed her.

Turning her head slightly, Ruan Zhizhi caught sight of his back — clad in black, lean and cold. His stride was unhurried, but there was something quietly dangerous about him.

The man looked gloomy. Unpredictable.

In other words… a man like this was usually trouble.

Not that it had anything to do with her.

She quickly shoved the thought aside, but in the next second, when the barista behind the counter regretfully informed her that the café’s last box of macarons had just been bought by another customer, Ruan Zhizhi’s already fragile good mood completely evaporated.

And then, unbidden, her mind replayed the image of the man’s hand holding that pink-ribboned box. It hit her in an instant — that was the café’s signature macaron packaging.

A cold, sharp, aloof man… eating something so sweet it was almost cloying, even for girls?

She scoffed under her breath and, unwillingly, settled for ordering a slice of mille-feuille instead.

Spoonful by spoonful, she ate the silky, creamy dessert while finishing the entire stack of newspapers on the table, feeling her mood lighten just a little.

When she turned to glance out the window, dusk had already fallen, the sky darkening at the edges — evening was setting in.

Soon, it would be Lunar New Year’s Eve. Yet aside from the shopping malls plastered with sale banners, the streets looked no different from usual. There wasn’t even a hint of festive cheer in the air.

And in this bitter, breath-fogging winter chill, she thought of Li Sichen again.

Hesitating for a few seconds, her fingers moved on their own, opening Weibo.

It had been exactly five years since Ruan Zhizhi first registered her account.

Back then, Weibo didn’t have the “quiet follow” feature, so every night, she’d search for his username over and over again, obsessively.

Luckily, his username had never changed — steady as a rock.

Ruan Zhizhi and Li Sichen had been college classmates. For four years, she’d stayed by his side under the guise of being “just one of the guys,” doing every stupid thing imaginable for him. But even until graduation, she never managed to make him like her back.

Feeling slightly guilty, she clicked into his profile. The page showed he’d just posted a new update an hour ago — one line of text with a photo.

Ruan Zhizhi recognized it instantly: the blue sea and cloudless sky of Santa Monica, California. Back in their junior year spring break, she, Li Sichen, Gu Nian, and Cheng Fengjin had traveled there together.

That had been the time she’d felt closest to Li Sichen.

Now, three years had passed since graduating from UCLA. Gu Nian and Cheng Fengjin were already engaged, while she… and Li Sichen, who had stayed in the U.S. for work, hadn’t seen each other once.

During senior year, at Li Sichen’s birthday party, Ruan Zhizhi had downed an entire bottle of 60-degree vodka and, emboldened by the alcohol, finally confessed to him.

How had he responded back then?

Oh, right. He’d looked a little flustered, silent for a long moment before smiling at her, sunny and dazzling as always. In a soft, coaxing tone, he’d said:
“Zhizhi, why don’t we just stay like this — friends. We see each other every day, there’s no pressure. Isn’t that nice?”

Then, as if it were perfectly reasonable, he’d added:
“We’ll always be best friends, right?”

He was like a boy who’d never grow up, taking her feelings for granted, carelessly consuming her youth.

And yet, faced with those pleading eyes, Ruan Zhizhi had shamefully nodded.

Anyone who’s been through it would understand — staying by someone’s side as “just a friend” when you want so much more… it’s pure torment. After graduation, Ruan Zhizhi hadn’t even applied for grad school; she’d fled back home without daring to linger another second.

With her natural beauty and a degree from a top U.S. university, Ruan Zhizhi’s life quickly fell into place. Suitors were never lacking, and everything went smoothly.

Over time, it seemed she’d put those memories behind her.

She wasn’t sad anymore. Not really. Sometimes, though, there was this faint emptiness in her chest.

And so, she’d developed the habit of secretly checking Li Sichen’s Weibo.

Tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, Ruan Zhizhi looked back at Li Sichen’s latest post. Only then did she notice the caption —

“A City, I’m back.”

He was coming back?

It was like a pebble tossed into a still lake, ripples instantly spreading outwards.

Just then, her phone vibrated sharply in her coat pocket, snapping her from her daze. She glanced at the screen — it was her childhood best friend, Gu Nian.

“Babe, what are you doing?”

The moment the call connected, Gu Nian’s sweet, soft voice spilled through, sticky and cloying enough to picture her perfectly.

There was background noise on Gu Nian’s end, so Ruan Zhizhi held the phone a little farther away and lazily yawned, answering, “Nothing much. Just at a café, trying to find inspiration for my article.”

Hearing the same old excuse again, Gu Nian chuckled.
“Ugh, how boring is that? Anyway, listen — the school’s hosting an end-of-year event, and the principal gave this year’s Tier-One professors a group tour package, one spot each. Such a rare chance! But I can’t go ‘cause I promised to spend time with Fengjin. I didn’t want the spot to go to waste, so…”

“So…?” Ruan Zhizhi frowned slightly, a bad feeling creeping in.

“So, after getting approval, I may or may not have filled in your info on the signup sheet.”

Gu Nian’s tone was casual, sweet as honey, like she was just asking what Ruan Zhizhi wanted for lunch.

It took Ruan Zhizhi a few seconds to fully process what she’d said. Taking a deep breath, trying to stay calm, she was just about to respond when Gu Nian’s rapid-fire voice barreled through the line:

“Darling, you’ve been eating poorly, sleeping worse, and working yourself to death lately. My heart aches just thinking about it! Anyway, just go pack your bags and head to Yunnan tomorrow to relax. And don’t thank me — what are best friends for? Ahem, that’s settled then. Byeee~”

And before Ruan Zhizhi could explode, Gu Nian hung up.

Staring at her phone, fingers pale from gripping too hard, Ruan Zhizhi could only listen to the relentless beeping on the other end. Completely baffled, she slammed her laptop shut with a loud thud.