They were back in Zhou Village, but nothing felt settled.
Zhao Xiuying had vanished into her cabin the moment they returned, quiet as mist, leaving only faint impressions in the dirt where she had once been.
She hadn't even bothered to say 'bye'.
Sun Longzi waited until the sun dipped low, casting the world in crimson light, before he went to find Zhu Deming standing near the treeline, his eyes distant, and his arms folded like he was bracing for something.
"We leave tomorrow," Sun Longzi said, his voice sharp and commanding.
Zhu Deming didn't move. "I'm not ready," he replied lazily, like he didn't have a care in the world. But Sun Longzi knew him better. The man was wound tighter than a bowstring. And just like a bowstring, when he finally snapped, he was going to take someone out with him.
"You don't have a say in the matter," reminded Sun Longzi, refusing to back down. "I said that we are leaving tomorrow, and that includes you."
