Returning to the quadrangle courtyard, it was eerily empty. Today, Long Aotian was the first one home.

Though the fight had delayed some of his plans, he still managed to arrive earlier than usual, within the normal dismissal time. Sitting in the living room, after the emotional outburst, an abrupt silence settled in.

The silence was almost suffocating—so quiet that he could hear his own heartbeat, his own breathing. For some inexplicable reason, his chest tightened, making it hard to breathe.

Slowly, he made his way upstairs and stepped onto the balcony. A cool breeze brushed past, dispelling the heaviness in his heart and clearing his muddled mind. The world before him seemed to brighten.

Long Aotian inhaled deeply, basking in the gentle wind and the golden hues of the setting sun. The weather was perfect—sunny with a refreshing breeze. Closing his eyes, he let the wind caress his face.

Then—

A thunderous boom echoed in his ears.

His emotions wavered for a split second.

The air grew damp, the scent of wet soil from the courtyard filling his nostrils. When he opened his eyes again, the sunset was gone. Instead, a gloomy, overcast sky loomed above.

The wind had turned harsh, no longer soothing.

The abrupt shift in scenery left Long Aotian disoriented.

One moment, it was a radiant sunset—the next, a stormy downpour.

What was real?

What had the weather been like in his memory?

It didn’t matter anymore. The weather hardly seemed important.

He looked up at the sky, now shrouded in dark clouds, lightning flashing ominously. A drop of water landed on his cheek. He touched it—wet. Then another, and another.

"It’s raining."

"So it’s raining after all."

He held out his palm, feeling the raindrops land against his skin. The sensation was real.

"Long Aotian." A voice tinged with resentment called out to him. "Are you stupid?"

"I just want to argue with you. I’m heartless, aren’t I? Haven’t you heard that hell hath no fury like a woman scorned?"

"That’s me, heh..."

There was a hint of playful arrogance in her tone.

But in the next second, that same voice softened.

"I just want to argue with you, to pick fights with you. If I didn’t, would you even notice me?"

"Long Aotian, I wish you hadn’t seen me at my worst. Do you really look down on someone like me? But... but I’m not that bad, you know..."

The voice was familiar—the words, too. It was Shen Mengjie’s voice, lingering in his ears.

But Shen Mengjie was gone. At least, Long Aotian knew that much. This voice wasn’t real.

"Long-ge, Long-ge, what’s wrong? Don’t scare me like this, Long-ge, Long-ge..."

Another voice, choked with sorrow, filled his ears.

This one was unmistakable—his little girl, Hu Yuying.

Her arms wrapped tightly around him, the warmth and weight of her body pulling him back to reality for a fleeting moment.

"Yuying, what’s wrong?"

She clung to him as if letting go would make him vanish before her eyes.

"Long-ge, what’s happening to you? What’s wrong?"

Hu Yuying’s voice trembled with worry.

When she had come home earlier, she found Long-ge standing motionless on the second-floor balcony.

His body was pressed dangerously close to the railing.

She had called out to him, but he didn’t respond.

He seemed empty—his eyes hollow, his soul absent. Before him wasn’t just a railing, but an abyss. One step forward, and he’d be swallowed whole.

That vacant, terrifying look—it wasn’t normal.

Hearing her distress, Long Aotian chuckled softly. "Silly girl, what are you so worried about?"

"It’s too hot and stuffy downstairs. It’s raining, so I came up to get some air..."

But at his explanation, Hu Yuying’s face drained of color.

His words sounded like the fragmented reasoning of a crumbling mind.

Her lips quivered. She pulled him into another embrace, this time even tighter.

Long Aotian had never seen Hu Yuying cry like this—so broken, as if begging for mercy, repeating his name over and over like a prayer.

What had gotten into his little girl today?

"Did something upset you? It’s okay. Long-ge is here. I’ll protect you. Always."

He gently stroked her hair, trying to soothe her.

Then his hand stilled.

His body stiffened.

He realized why she was crying.

Her hair—soft, smooth, completely dry.

There was no storm. No rain.

The sky was still bathed in twilight’s glow.

He was sick.

When Li Qingxue and Lin Wanning returned home, this was the scene they walked into.

Their elder sister, Hu Yuying, had her head bowed, clutching Long Aotian desperately. Her slender frame trembled as tears streamed down her pale cheeks. Her voice was barely above a whisper, yet she kept calling his name, over and over.

The sound of her stifled sobs was heartbreaking.

At first glance, they assumed something had hurt their kind, gentle Yuying.

Because compared to her anguish, Long Aotian seemed... normal.

"Let’s go to the hospital, Long-ge. Please, let’s go to the hospital," she pleaded between sobs.

"Long Aotian, did you make her—"

"Don’t you dare!" Hu Yuying’s voice was no longer soft. The sudden sharpness startled Li Qingxue.

"Y-Yuying..." Li Qingxue faltered.

Lin Wanning tugged at her hand, signaling her to stay quiet.

Hu Yuying shook her head, her entire body shaking. It was as if an invisible hand gripped her throat, each word coming out fractured. "No one speaks badly of Long-ge. No one."

Feeling her tremble against him, Long Aotian clenched his fists.

She was always so timid—she must have been terrified.

The pain of his nails digging into his palms was nothing compared to the ache of seeing her like this.

He swallowed his own turmoil, forcing calm into his voice.

"Don’t cry. I’ll go. I’ll go to the hospital. Just stop crying, okay?"

He could never bear her tears. When she cried, nothing else mattered.

His gentle reassurance made it seem as though the one on the verge of breaking down moments ago... had never been him at all.