The car rolled to a soft stop in front of the Lin estate.
Same polished gates. Same perfect lawn. It looked exactly like it did in his memories — but Lin Yuhan wasn't the same person sitting in the passenger seat this time.
The engine cut off. Silence filled the car.
"We're here," Shen Mochen said, glancing over at him. "You sure you're okay? You've been pretty quiet since we left the city."
Yuhan's fingers rested on the car door handle, but he didn't move.
"I'm fine," he said flatly.
Then, with a small, almost lazy smile:
"Just thinking. You know… not everyone's mind is as empty as yours must be to miss certain details."
Mochen froze for half a second — caught off guard — but recovered quickly. He wasn't used to this version of Yuhan. He'd expected soft words. Maybe a laugh. Definitely not that.
Yuhan opened the door without waiting for a response.
His shoes crunched on the gravel, each step deliberate. He didn't rush. Didn't hesitate.
He looked around — not out of nostalgia, but inventory.
Same scent of jasmine in the garden. The left lion statue at the gate still had that crack. Someone had polished over it but didn't bother repairing it. Sloppy. Telling.
Mochen caught up to him.
"Ready?" he asked, low voice cautious now.
Yuhan didn't stop walking. "As I'll ever be."
The massive wooden door opened just as they stepped onto the front porch.
And there he was.
Meile.
In white, of course. Linen shirt, unbuttoned just enough to look casual, carefully tousled hair. Perfect smile, rehearsed and radiant.
"Yuhan! Mochen! You're finally here!" His voice rang with warmth, but the flash in his eyes was sharp — too sharp. Calculating.
He stepped forward with open arms.
Yuhan didn't budge.
When Meile moved in for a hug, Yuhan shifted smoothly, side-stepping without even flinching. Not rude. Just enough to make it clear: Don't touch me.
Meile's arms closed around air.
The smile on his face trembled for just a second before snapping back into place. "Still the same old Yuhan," he joked.
Yuhan turned to face him, expression unreadable. "I wouldn't count on that."
Meile laughed too loudly. Then, casually, like it meant nothing, he slid his arm through Shen Mochen's instead.
Yuhan didn't react. Not a blink. Not a sigh.
Let him cling, he thought.
Let both of them pretend they've won.
For now.
---
Inside, everything looked exactly the same. Marble floors. Crystal chandelier. The grand staircase their mother used to walk down like she was in a drama.
Yuhan's eyes moved slowly over it all. Not admiring. Not impressed.
Calculating.
Every corner had a memory.
Every memory was now a tool.
This time, he thought, I won't be the one smiling at the end.