The darkness. The dampness. The haze of semi-consciousness.
Xia Ruyan had long since lost track of time. She didn't remember how long she had been tied up, how long she had been lying against the cold concrete, limbs aching from the unnatural stillness.
She remembered waiting for a car after the meeting. She remembered a shadow, just a blur, and then, nothing. She hadn't even had the chance to struggle. Before she could process what was happening, it was already over. She was gone.
And now, there was only darkness.
In this kind of pitch black, one loses all sense of time and space. The only clear distinction left is that between up and down. Like a massive ocean, with no idea of the horizon. The air was heavy with dampness and silence. Her breathing was slow but steady.
I'm like that, she thought. Floating in the dark. The only thing keeping me grounded is them…
Her parents. Her mother's stern eyes. Her father's ever-watchful presence. They were the tether holding her to this world. If not for them, she would already be gone, adrift in a boundless ocean with no shore in sight. She imagined herself floating, eyes half-lidded, the sea swallowing her gently as she exhaled her final breath.
But they wouldn't let go. They never did.
"Will you be able to find me, Baba?" she thought, her head leaning weakly against the concrete wall. Her voice, if it could be heard, would've been barely a whisper. Her father always found her. Always protected her.
But maybe… just this once… she didn't want to be saved. Because it had been so long. So very long… since she wished she could simply leave. Leave this body. Leave this world. Slip away into a place without weight, without silence, without expectation.
Elsewhere, in the Mo Mansion
Subtle chaos swirled beneath the surface. While Madam Mo and Mo Yiran sat coldly, exchanging sneers and sipping their tea with unsettling calm, the rest of the house was in disarray. Phones were buzzing, and staff were hurrying in and out. Worry etched deep lines on every face.
Mo Yichen was on his feet, pacing like a storm waiting to break. Lee Jian had already reached the city magistrate. The update was concise and chilling.
"Yes, she left after the meeting. Alone. Surveillance confirms it."
The screen had shown her walking the dusty path, shoulders squared, back straight, footsteps poised as if she were gracing the very ground with her presence. Mo Yichen felt a sudden tightness in his chest. A wave of sorrow swept through him, unfamiliar and sharp.
Why do I feel like I'm losing something… a part of me?Why now? Why her?
Then the silence of the hall was shattered by Marie's phone ringing.
She sat upright immediately. "Yes, sir." Her tone was clipped, formal. The voice on the other end made her nod sharply.
"Who's calling?" Elder Mo asked, his eyes narrowing. He already knew.
"Give me the phone. Let me speak to him," he ordered.
Marie hesitated, then switched to speaker mode.
"Elder Mo", a deep voice came through the line, calm, composed, but laced with cold steel.
"Little Xia, it's our fault. The Mo family's negligence. We'll find her soon. I promise you." Mo Yichen closed his eyes. He remembered that voice. Mr. Xia's calm, almost gentle demeanor. The warmth in his eyes when he had entrusted his daughter to him.
But the voice on the phone wasn't warm anymore.
"I trusted the Mo family once, Elder Mo. I trusted you with my heart." There was a pause. The background was filled with the sound of static, movement, and muffled commands.
"And this… this is what it got me." Each word was thick with restrained fury, every syllable cutting like a blade.
Then came the command:
"Marie. Prepare the necessary things for A-Yan."
Marie stiffened. "Sir… you found Ma'am?" she asked, breath caught between fear and hope.
"A-Yan sent me a signal a few hours ago," came the reply. And with that, the line went dead. And something in Mo Yichen crumbled too. No matter how many times he tried to convince himself that she meant nothing, he knew, deep down, that the stubborn, aloof woman had quietly claimed a part of his life. A part he couldn't ignore… or maybe, a part he no longer wanted to ignore.
"Don't you find this whole thing a bit suspicious?" Mo Yize said, arms crossed, pacing near the window like a restless commentator. "I mean… sisters-in-law is from an ordinary background. Why would she go missing? Okay, maybe she got abducted—but again, why? It's not like she's from a billionaire family. Maybe… maybe because of her looks?"
"She's from old money," Mo Yichen said quietly.
"What?" Madam Mo's brows furrowed.
"She doesn't flaunt it," he added, turning his gaze directly to his mother. The silence that followed was dense.
A flicker of recognition passed across Madam Mo's face, but she said nothing. The air between them thinned, heavy with the memory of that breakfast table argument, where dignity had been tested and bruises hadn't needed to be physical to be real.
"This isn't the time for that kind of talk," Master Mo cut in, his tone stern. "Did the police chief find anything?"
"Not yet," Mo Yichen replied, his voice strained. He was angry. Not just at the world, but at himself. Even in distress, even in fear, when she had to signal someone, she didn't turn to him.
She had sent a message to her father, not him.
Never him. So that's what he was to her. Not safety. Not a refuge. Just a placeholder in a well-wrapped arrangement.
A deal. Just a bloody deal.
"I'll check in with the investigators again," he said, already turning.
No one stopped him. His footsteps echoed down the marble hallway, fading into a silence filled with everything left unsaid.
At the Xia Estate
The control room had become a war zone of data and surveillance. Screens flickered, maps glowed, and signals blinked in anxious rhythm. Yet no one spoke above a whisper.
Mr. Xia stood at the center, arms behind his back, eyes unmoving. The shadows under his eyes had deepened, but his voice never broke. Gone was the gentle, poetic man; here stands someone new, someone mysterious and undefeated.
"She left the building at 4:46 PM. The footage ends at 4:49. That's a three-minute window." His tone was measured, but every second was an earthquake beneath his ribs.
"Sir," his chief agent murmured, "we're sweeping every abandoned structure within a 50-kilometer radius. So far, no heat signatures that match."
"Keep sweeping," he said coldly. "She's not dead. She would've left a sign."
"But—"
He turned sharply. "She's not dead." The silence was final.
Behind him, Madam Xia stood quiet. She hadn't shed a tear. But her knuckles were white where she gripped her prayer beads.
.
.
.
.
.
.
A man stood before a monitor, watching footage of Xia Ruyan. His face was hidden by shadows, only a sliver of his mouth visible, smiling.
"Still not crying," he murmured.
He leaned forward.
"You're exactly like your father, little Xia. Proud."
He flicked the screen off. "Let's see how long that lasts, you are our bargaining chip. It was hard to find you, Miss Xia."
Back in the Darkness
Ruyan's eyelids fluttered. Something had changed. A faint vibration beneath the floor. Barely perceptible.
Footsteps?
She didn't move. But her pulse ticked higher. Her breathing slowed. Silently, within the fortress of her mind, she whispered in her head again:
"Will you still find me, Baba?"