Inside the apartment.
Elena Shen sat curled up on the sofa, hugging her knees. Her phone lay a short distance away, tossed carelessly in front of her.
In the thick, almost oppressive silence, a short vibration suddenly broke through.
The screen lit up.
Elena didn't move—only her eyelids lifted slightly.
She caught a glimpse of the message on the screen. It was from Adrian Jiang.
An apology.
She didn't reply. Didn't even acknowledge it.
Letting the screen go dark again on its own.
—
In the stairwell, Adrian Jiang leaned against the wall, cigarette between his fingers, gaze fixed on the pinned chat window on his phone.
Ten minutes passed.
Still nothing.
A hollow smile tugged at the corner of his lips, mocking himself.
He stubbed out the cigarette, pulled open the emergency exit door, and stepped into the elevator to head downstairs.
As he walked out of the apartment building and lifted his head, his gaze fell on a familiar black Pullman idling quietly just outside.
Eric Chen stood beside the vehicle. Upon hearing footsteps, he turned his head in Adrian's direction.
Adrian's eyes flickered slightly.
He strode over to the car, stopping only when he reached the door.
The rear window was already lowered.
And there he was—Ethan Jiang, seated upright in the leather backseat, flipping through documents on his tablet.
Adrian's fingers curled slightly at his sides. Still, his expression remained relaxed, his voice steady as he was the first to speak.
"Brother."
Ethan looked up.
The tablet screen reflected a dense wall of technical jargon.
His gaze lingered on Adrian for a moment.
His lips parted slightly, and he asked:
"What are you doing here?"
Adrian swallowed the bitter taste in his throat, forcing a lazy smile and adopting a light tone.
"Before summer break, Elena left a USB drive for a lab project at my place. I just came to return it."
He then glanced at Ethan and asked, "You came to pick her up?"
"I did." Ethan's eyes shifted away, but not before they caught sight of the bruising on Adrian's right hand. He pulled back his sleeve and glanced at the time. "Coming back to the family estate tonight?"
Adrian shrugged off the question with a laugh, as if it were nothing.
"Not tonight. Mom and Dad disapprove of my girlfriend. Going back just means another round of scolding."
As he spoke, his hand clenched into a fist, then released.
The torn skin on his knuckles reopened, blood seeping once more. But he didn't seem to feel it, only chuckled softly and said, "I've got plans. Gotta run."
The sun was sinking.
The last slivers of twilight stretched and faded.
At exactly 7:00 p.m., Ethan tapped his finger on the tablet and sent a message to Elena.
—
The apartment remained dark.
Without sunlight, the space would become even gloomier.
In contrast, the glow from the phone screen seemed sharp and distinct.
Elena, wrapped in a blanket, was curled on the sofa. When the phone lit up again, she thought it was another message from Adrian. She reached to flip it face down without looking.
But just as her fingers brushed the screen, the name that flashed caught her eye: Ethan Jiang.
She froze.
Hesitated.
And in the end, she didn't dare ignore his message.
Unlocking her phone, she tapped into the chat.
There was only one short line:
[It's getting late. Come downstairs.]
Elena's chaotic thoughts halted. After Adrian's unexpected outburst earlier, she had completely forgotten to come up with a reason not to return to the Jiang estate tonight.
She instinctively began typing.
Planning to come up with a hasty excuse.
But every message she typed was deleted.
She racked her brain for something convincing. Then, as her eyes lingered on Ethan's message again, something clicked.
A sudden clarity broke through her tangled mind.
Abandoning the phone, the girl who had just moments ago looked so listless, jumped up and ran to the balcony.
Through the glass, she peered downstairs—and sure enough, there it was. The black Pullman parked right in front.
Next to it stood Eric Chen, Ethan's personal assistant.
Elena wasn't sure if it was her imagination, but it felt like Eric glanced up just as she looked down.
There was no point resisting.
She tossed the fuzzy blanket aside, grabbed her phone, opened the door, and went downstairs.
Eric greeted her politely when she approached.
At the same time, the rear door of the Pullman opened automatically.
Elena glanced at the man inside, who had just looked up from his work to see her eyes.
She said nothing.
She climbed in.
Soon after, Eric took the wheel, and the privacy partition between the front and back seats silently rose.
Ethan glanced at the girl now seated obediently beside him.
His mind conjured the image of Adrian walking out of the apartment building.
His eyes swept over her, and in a tone of casual curiosity, he asked:
"What made you decide to come back to the apartment?"
If it had been over text, Elena might've dared to lie.
But face-to-face? With him watching?
She didn't have the nerve.
Still, she couldn't tell him the full truth either.
After thinking for a moment, she crafted a softer, more ambiguous excuse.
In the dim lighting, the girl sat upright with her waist straight, her red lips pressed tightly together. Her eyes half-lowered, voice barely above a whisper.
"My legs were sore. I just wanted to rest for a bit."
"Legs sore?" Ethan repeated, though his tone betrayed no emotion.
His gaze shifted to her skirt, which draped all the way down to her ankles, concealing everything beneath.
"You hurt yourself?" he asked.
Elena furrowed her brows faintly.
It was hard to tell exactly what he meant—was he referring to last night, or something that happened at school?
Just to be safe, she shook her head.
His gaze lifted again and paused briefly at her waist.
"Back hurting too?"
Now she knew exactly what he meant.
As darkness blanketed the sky, and with the thought of avoiding "duties" tonight, she decided to be honest for once.
She nodded—very quickly.
"It hurts."
Ethan reached over and closed the last crack in the car window, sealing out the world completely.
Then he slid an arm around her waist and lifted her onto his lap.
Elena was caught completely off guard.
Her body tensed the moment she felt the air shift beneath her. She didn't even have time to cry out before she found herself nestled against him.
"Don't tense up," Ethan murmured, his voice deep and calm as his hand gently patted her waist. "Relax."
Realizing what he was trying to do, Elena glanced up at him, stunned.
There was no way she could relax. Being held like a child—no, like something even more delicate—she was so stiff she barely dared to breathe.
"You—You don't have to... I can manage by myself..."
"Don't move." He tightened his grip slightly, just enough to steady her, then began gently massaging her side through the thin fabric of her dress.
"Where exactly does it hurt?"
She didn't dare fidget anymore, doing her best to remain still. But her hands fumbled awkwardly, not knowing where to place them. In the end, she folded them neatly in her lap, obedient and still.
"Just... just around there. That's all."
The Pullman's windows were tinted one-way.
No one could see in from the outside.
But the ever-shifting neon lights from the city outside spilled into the car with each passing streetlamp and billboard.
Ethan hadn't turned on the car's interior lights.
But now and then, a stream of color illuminated the inside of the cabin.
And it was in one of those moments of passing light that he caught sight of a faint, reddish mark on her wrist—fingers had gripped her too tightly, the bruising not yet fully faded.
His eyes lingered on the mark.
And in a flash, he remembered Adrian's bloodied hand again.
His hand paused mid-motion—just for a second.
Then his eyes lifted slowly, falling back on Elena's pale, porcelain face.
"I saw Adrian coming out of your apartment just now," he said quietly. "Did he come to see you?"