Rong Qian's emotions were fleeting, ebbing and flowing like waves. One moment she was elated by Fu Bozhong's arrival, the next she grew quiet, realizing something significant.
If Fu Bozhong is here, my time here is nearing its end.
Though she knew she couldn't stay to watch Shen Yi grow up, her earlier joy now felt misplaced. If he knew I'd be leaving, how hurt would he feel?
Resolving to temper her emotions, Rong Qian explained her presence to Fu Bozhong in the same way she had to Shen Yi, calling herself a time traveler.
At first, Fu Bozhong was skeptical. Time traveler? Surely, this is nonsense!
But with Shen Yi corroborating her story, his doubts began to waver. Eventually, he accepted the extraordinary tale.
Rong Qian, eager to confirm her next steps, casually asked Fu Bozhong if he owned a camera. His response was unexpected.
"How did you know I recently bought one?"
"Really? Where is it? Can you take pictures? Should we take one now? No, wait—maybe later. It's not the right time!" Rong Qian's rapid-fire questions left Fu Bozhong bewildered.
"Miss Rong," he replied politely, "I do have a camera, but I'm still learning to use it. Perhaps when I've mastered it, I'll take a photo of you."
Rong Qian beamed. "Promise me! Don't forget! You absolutely have to take my picture!"
Bemused but obliging, Fu Bozhong agreed.
Shen Yi, observing the exchange, frowned slightly. "Why are you so adamant about getting a picture taken?"
"Because I love photos!" Rong Qian had prepared her excuse in advance.
Satisfied, Shen Yi dropped the subject.
With Fu Bozhong now in the loop, Rong Qian felt a sense of relief. He was someone Shen Yi trusted deeply, treating him like family.
This trust was evident when Shen Yi confided in Fu Bozhong about helping Xu Zhiwei. Though shocked by the revelation, Fu Bozhong understood the boy's motives.
The sight of Shen Yi's rare smile melted Fu Bozhong's worries. For so long, he had feared the boy would grow bitter, his soul darkened by hardship. Yet with Rong Qian by his side, Shen Yi seemed truly alive.
To Fu Bozhong, Rong Qian was Shen Yi's light. If she were to vanish, he would be plunged back into darkness.
Late that night, Rong Qian crept out of the wardrobe, her heart heavy with unresolved thoughts.
Standing by the bed, she watched Shen Yi sleep peacefully, oblivious to the evening's events. Her sigh was barely audible as she turned toward the window.
The night was tranquil, the moonlight serene, but the atmosphere crackled with tension. This would not be a peaceful night.
Meanwhile, Yan Qingyao darted through the shadows of the estate, clutching the letter from Xu Zhiwei close to her chest. She had brought no luggage, leaving everything behind—there was nothing in this place she cared to take.
Freedom was within reach. She could almost taste it.
But as she neared the edge of the property, a voice cut through the silence.
"Madam, where are you going so late?"
Her blood ran cold. Footsteps grew louder behind her, and her legs felt leaden, refusing to obey her will.
Terror consumed her. She recalled her last failed escape, when Shen Chi had locked her away and beaten her for three days. The memory was vivid and excruciating.
I can't go back. I'd rather die.
Just as despair overtook her, the footsteps abruptly stopped. A heavy thud followed, the sound of a body hitting the ground.
"Why are you still standing there? Come with me," a woman's voice urged.
Startled, Yan Qingyao turned to see Rong Qian, her clear, determined eyes shining even in the dim moonlight.
Rong Qian led the way without waiting for a response. After a brief hesitation, Yan Qingyao hurried to follow.
At the rendezvous point agreed upon with Xu Zhiwei, Rong Qian turned to Yan Qingyao and said coldly, "Wait here. Xu Zhiwei's car will arrive soon."
"Who are you? Why are you helping me?" Yan Qingyao demanded.
Rong Qian's expression hardened. "Who I am doesn't matter. And I'm not helping you—I'm helping someone else."
Her tone was icy as she added, "Someone wants you to be free. I'm just fulfilling that wish."
Yan Qingyao's face betrayed a flicker of guilt. Perhaps she understood who Rong Qian meant, but she said nothing.
Without another word, Rong Qian turned and left.
Returning to Shen Yi's room, Rong Qian froze in her tracks. Shen Yi was awake, sitting on the bed, his silhouette outlined in the faint light.
"She's gone, isn't she?" he asked softly.
Rong Qian nodded. "Yes, she's gone."
Silence hung between them. Shen Yi lay back down, but Rong Qian knew he wasn't asleep.
Sitting on the sofa, her mind raced. Something feels wrong. Yan Qingyao's escape couldn't have gone so smoothly.
She dozed off, only to be jolted awake by a commotion outside. Shen Yi, startled as well, sat up in bed, his face pale with fear.
Rong Qian's heart sank. Yan Qingyao failed. Shen Chi must have caught her.
Fu Bozhong confirmed their fears shortly after. Yan Qingyao had been brought back by Shen Chi.
"But how?" Rong Qian muttered, baffled. "How did he know she was planning to escape?"
Shen Yi's face turned ashen. "The banquet… that day, he saw me talking to Xu Zhiwei."
"What?" Rong Qian exclaimed, the pieces falling into place.
Had she known Shen Chi was already suspicious, she would never have allowed Yan Qingyao to go through with the plan. But recriminations were futile now.
Shen Yi, overcome with guilt, whispered, "It's my fault. I ruined everything."
"Stop it," Rong Qian snapped, rapping his head lightly. "This isn't your fault. Don't blame yourself."
"Really?" Shen Yi's voice wavered.
"Really," Rong Qian said firmly. "Don't you trust me?"
Reluctantly, Shen Yi nodded, though his anguish was evident.
The sound of an approaching ambulance shattered the tense atmosphere.
Rong Qian's heart plummeted. An ambulance? That can only mean one thing—Yan Qingyao's life is in danger.