In the art studio, Lin Qiu Tong sat absorbed in her painting. Her white dress draped elegantly, long hair falling precisely down her back. Sunlight filtered through a slightly ajar window, causing her dress and hair to dance with each subtle breeze.
The scene was hauntingly familiar—exactly like the one etched into Shen Chi Yan's recurring dream. His heart thundered, feet moving of their own accord toward Lin Qiu Tong. With each step, the memory and reality blurred.
On the canvas before her, a delicate spray of pink baby's breath took shape.
Lin Qiu Tong sensed his presence, turning slowly. This was the moment that always jolted him awake in previous dreams. But now, reality and memory merged perfectly, seamlessly overlapping.
"Qiu Tong!" The name escaped his lips, raw and desperate.
"Ah Yan…"
Her smile bloomed before she rushed toward him, throwing herself into his arms with unbridled emotion. Shen Chi Yan froze, body rigid. His hands hovered uncertainly—should he push her away or pull her closer?
Lin Qiu Tong's eyes flickered with knowing intensity. She'd calculated this moment precisely. As quickly as she'd embraced him, she pulled back.
"I just finished a painting of baby's breath for my brother," she said, moving to carefully pack the artwork into a tube. "Give me a moment."
"...Alright."
His gaze never left her, tracking each deliberate movement as she prepared to leave. When she returned, she linked her arm through his with practiced intimacy.
Catching him staring, she tilted her head. "What is it? Do I have something on my face?"
Shen Chi Yan shook his head. "No, let's go."
Despite finding the girl from his dreams, something felt inexplicably hollow. The realization should have brought joy, yet an unsettling emptiness lingered.
At the cemetery:
A black umbrella shielded Lin Qiu Tong from the light drizzle, Shen Chi Yan tilting it protectively over her. They stood before a tombstone bearing the photo of a teenage boy—radiant, handsome, frozen forever at twelve.
Chrysanthemums rested before the stone, freshly placed by Shen Chi Yan.
Lin Qiu Tong's gaze locked onto the photograph, tears welling up as she brushed them away. "Brother, Ah Yan and I have come to see you."
She carefully extracted the baby's breath painting from its tube, holding it up to the tombstone. "I don't know how you're doing, if you're lonely. This painting—it'll keep you company in my place."
Gently, she returned the painting to its tube, leaning it against the memorial.
"When Xingxing and I got into trouble, my brother always protected us," she began, her voice soft with remembered affection. "Even in elementary school, he was popular—people already had crushes on him. He loved airplane models, always dreaming of becoming a pilot."
Her tears flowed—a calculated performance designed to evoke guilt. Each word, each sob carefully crafted to pierce Shen Chi Yan's conscience.
"So kind, so brilliant," Lin Qiu Tong whispered, collapsing into Shen Chi Yan's arms. "When we lost him, it felt like the world collapsed. If he were alive, he'd have been an incredible pilot."
Shen Chi Yan's fists clenched, heart heavy with unspoken remorse. His hand moved mechanically, patting her back. "I'm sorry," he murmured—a broken apology laden with unresolved pain.
Lin Qiu Tong's tearful eyes softened with a mix of compassion and determination. "Ah Yan, I'm not blaming you. That monster who killed my brother—he's the one to blame."
When the tragedy occurred, Shen Chi Yan was just ten, Lin Feichi twelve. They were inseparable—two children whose lives were forever intertwined. One fateful day, a deranged killer abducted them to a house of horrors.
Awakened by cold water, they found themselves surrounded by blood-stained walls and torture devices. The room pulsed with an oppressive darkness that chilled them to the bone.
Shen Chi Yan's memories remained fragmented, but one moment stood crystal clear: when the killer approached with a knife, Lin Feichi shielded him. In that critical moment, Shen Chi Yan seized an axe, struck the attacker unconscious, and tried to drag his friend to safety.
But Lin Feichi's wounds were too severe. He died before they could reach the hospital.
Watching Shen Chi Yan's face darken, Lin Qiu Tong felt a calculated surge of sympathy. She understood this memory was an unhealing wound—and a powerful weapon.
"The past is past," she murmured. "What matters is living well, carrying my brother's share of life too."
Shen Chi Yan nodded silently.
Her original plan—to confess her feelings—dissolved in his grief. Not now, she decided.
During the return journey, Shen Chi Yan stared out the window, lost in memories. Lin Qiu Tong studied his profile, her determination hardening. This man would be hers.
"Ah Yan," she broke the silence, "I've lost over a thousand days to my coma. Now I want to pursue my dreams again."
"Acting?" he asked.
She smiled bitterly. "I always wanted to be a movie queen. But I was bedridden during my prime. I wonder if I'll get another chance."
"As long as you want it, you'll achieve it," Shen Chi Yan offered.
Lin Qiu Tong's excitement sparked instantly. "I'll work hard," she nodded.
"Which talent agency are you targeting?"
"Xinghuang Entertainment," she answered decisively. "It's easier to succeed with a strong connection."
Xinghuang Entertainment dominated Jinghua City's entertainment landscape—a powerhouse owned by the Gong family and partially funded by Dingsheng Group. They were known for launching top-tier talent.
For Lin Qiu Tong, fame mattered. But Shen Chi Yan mattered more.
Becoming the wife of Dingsheng Group's president would catapult her to industry dominance. More strategically, Gu Zhiyan and Gong Yuqi were both at Xinghuang—Gu Zhiyan being Shen Chi Yan's biological mother, Gong Yuqi his close friend.
Proximity meant opportunity. Their support could crush Song Qi Nian effortlessly.
She knew Gu Zhiyan disliked Song Qi Nian. Though the woman treated her coolly, she had watched Lin Qiu Tong grow up. Surely she would provide assistance when needed.
Her thoughts drifted to the Shen family's Old Madam. Why was that woman so devoted to Song Qi Nian?
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