Lin Shuyin sat in the dim light of her hotel room, the sound of the distant party still echoing faintly in her ears. Her fingers rested on the edge of the glass, the alcohol swirling inside it reflecting the bittersweet emotions coursing through her.
Tonight, she was supposed to be celebrating — the culmination of years of hard work, the end of her academic journey, the night she turned 18. But none of it mattered. Not now. Not when the only thing that weighed heavily on her chest was the reality that this was her last night in this city, in this life.
Tomorrow, she would leave everything behind.
A new identity. A new name. The girl who had always been invisible to the world would vanish without a trace. It was her only option.
She had no family, no one to turn to. She was an orphan, a shadow, a ghost drifting through the world without a true place to call home.
She had fought to survive these past few years, striving for something that would make her feel seen. That something had been the university, the prestigious institution that had let her hide in its corridors. It had given her a purpose, a reason to keep going. But now, even that was ending.
She had come to this last gathering only because of him.
The party was on the shores of Xiuyan Lake, a serene and picturesque place, where the water shimmered under the light of the moon, and the sand felt soft beneath the feet of those who walked along its edge.
The final year students of the prestigious Tiansu University had planned this final celebration together, inviting seniors and alumni, all gathered in one place to mark the end of an era. Yet none of it mattered to Lin Shuyin.
Her reason for attending was simple: him.
Lu Yanzhou. Her crush for five years, the one she had loved from afar, silently, hopelessly.
She had never been anything to him. Just a background figure. An orphan among the privileged, a shadow that no one ever saw.
Yet, in those fleeting moments when he had helped her all those years ago, when his cold, aloof eyes had softened just enough to prevent her from falling from that tree, she had fallen for him. Hard.
He was everything she could never be: brilliant, confident, untouchable.
His picture hung in the Phoenix Achievement Wall, a place reserved for the brightest stars to shine. And there he was, frozen in time, a symbol of what she could only ever dream of. His achievements were as dazzling as the stars themselves.
She had always dreamed of standing next to him on that wall, having her name etched there, just like his. But she knew it was a fantasy, an impossible dream. She was just a nobody in the eyes of the world.
But against all odds, after three years of endless hardwork, her picture now stood beside his, on that same wall, an achievement that still felt surreal.
It was a fleeting victory, one that would soon fade when she walked away from everything she had known.
That was the reality. She was leaving. She had no choice.
But tonight... she wanted to see him one last time.
Even if it was just a glimpse.
Even if it was just for a few seconds.
She had to see him.
That's why, when her roommate had excitedly invited her to the party, telling her that Lu Yanzhou would be there, she had hesitated for only a moment before canceling her ticket. She had to see him. For one last time. For her own silent good bye.
Yet, she hadn't expected it to end like this.
Lin Shuyin had joined the others, laughing and chatting as the night unfolded, trying to ignore the ever-present ache in her chest.
She watched him from a distance, as he spoke with his friends, his presence dominating the space like a silent storm. He was as flawless as ever, his cold demeanor unchanged.
She couldn't bring herself to approach him—couldn't summon the courage. So she lingered at the edge of the crowd, half-hidden behind a glass she didn't drink from, pretending indifference. But in truth, she was memorizing him one last time—committing every glance, every gesture, every breath to memory, as if it were goodbye.
But then, everything shattered.
Her phone buzzed, the screen flashing with a message she had been dreading. Trembling, she grabbed it, trying to steady her hands as she read the words that had destroyed any semblance of calm she had left.
"Alert! Code Blue!"
Three Words.
Three cold words.
Her heart stopped. The room around her blurred, the sounds of the party fading into a muffled roar. Her chance to escape this life — to start fresh — was slipping away. She had been holding on to the hope of a new life, but this was her reality. She had to go. There was no other option.
Her legs felt like they might give way beneath her as she excused herself from the party, desperately clutching her phone, her eyes burning with the weight of unshed tears. She had to leave. She had to be strong. She had no choice. She stumbled back to her hotel room, her chest tight, her breath shallow.
Alone. She was always alone.
The door clicked shut behind her, and for the first time in years, she allowed herself to feel the weight of the loneliness she had always carried.
She sank to the floor, her back against the door, her phone still clutched in her hand. The pain in her chest was suffocating. She had dreamed of this night — of seeing him, of speaking to him, but it had all been in vain. Now, she would leave without a trace, without him ever knowing she exist.
She stood up, the world still spinning around her, her thoughts muddled and incoherent. Her hand reached for the nearest bottle of alcohol—the strongest one she could find—and she drank.
She didn't care anymore.
She needed it—needed the fire, the numbness, the chaos.
The pain in her chest was too much, too loud.
She poured herself a glass, her movements sharp and jerky, and downed it in one gulp. The burn hit hard, but not hard enough.
Not enough to drown the ache.
So she gripped the bottle itself—her fingers clutching the neck like a lifeline—and tipped it back. She drank straight from it, without pause, draining it as though she could empty her sorrow with it.
The burn of alcohol clawed down Lin Shuyin's throat, biting and hot, as she tipped the bottle back again.
Her eyes blurred, teary—but still, not a single tear fell.
She couldn't cry.
She didn't even blink.
The bottle slipped from her hand with a dull thud, and she reached for another.
Outside, the laughter and music from the lakeside party had long since faded into a distant hum, like a memory already slipping through time.
Her hotel room was cloaked in shadows, lit only by the silver glow of the full moon filtering through the thin curtains. Everything felt quiet. Still. Too still.
Until—Click.
The soft, unmistakable sound of the door unlocking shattered the silence like a scream.
Lin Shuyin froze.
Her breath hitched, her heart thundering against her ribcage. She turned sharply toward the door, vision swimming—too drunk to focus, too alert to ignore the dread crawling up her spine.
The door creaked open, letting in a gust of cool air—and a silhouette.
Tall. Male. Silent.
The door clicked shut behind him, sealing them in darkness once more.
She forced her voice through the dryness in her throat. "Wh–Who… are you?"
No answer.
Only silence—and the sound of slow, uneven footsteps. He didn't walk straight. His movements were slightly off-kilter, as if he were sleepwalking… or drunk. Deeply drunk.
Fear curled like ice in her stomach.
She backed away instinctively, nearly tripping over the edge of the rug. Her hand fumbled behind her, searching for something—anything—to shield herself. But the room tilted violently around her, and her limbs felt heavy, sluggish.
Then—he moved.
Faster this time. Too fast.
Before she could scream, her back hit the mattress with a soft thud, the suddenness knocking the air from her lungs.
Strong hands pinned her wrists above her head—not rough, but firm. Impossibly firm. Like iron wrapped in velvet.
A gasp ripped from her throat, high and sharp.
Her pulse surged wildly, thudding in her ears as panic clawed its way up her chest. She struggled beneath him, but the weight above her didn't budge.
She couldn't see his face—only the outline. Tall. Broad-shouldered. The darkness clung to him like a second skin, making him seem almost unreal. A nightmare come to life.
His breathing was ragged, close.
Then it hit her.
The scent.
Overwhelming and sharp—the acrid bite of alcohol, thick and suffocating, pouring off him in waves. It burned her nose, twisted her stomach, and turned her fear into something colder. Sharper.
Her voice broke on a whimper. "Please…"
But then—underneath the alcohol—she caught it.
A familiar scent. Subtle, haunting.
Woodsmoke. Warm musk. Aged wine. It clung to her skin like memory, and her breath caught in her throat.
No.
No, it couldn't be.
Her heart clenched, beat stuttering as realization dawned—terrible and undeniable.
"…Yanzhou?"