The living room curtains were half drawn, afternoon light slipping in and outlining faint motes of dust.

Jiang Zhilin sat on the sofa, one hand wrapped around a mug that still held a trace of warmth.

His fingers felt slightly stiff from not having moved for so long.

Room was so quiet it felt as if the sound of his own heartbeat might be audible.

He hadn’t gone out today, nor had he deliberately tried to sleep—he couldn’t quite say what he wanted to do.

Leaning back against the sofa, his body sank into cushions that were soft, yet offered too little support.

A dull ache spread through his lower back, his shoulders weighed down a little more than usual.

Time suddenly felt very long.

This day…
would probably pass like this as well.

Bzzz—

The phone on the table shattered the frozen air.

Jiang Zhilin didn’t react.

At first, he assumed it was just another piece of spam—until a second vibration followed.

He glanced down, unlocked the screen.
A message from a familiar number:

     The anonymous sample you gave me earlier—I got the results.

     Analysis shows a sibling relationship between the two DNA profiles, with a very high degree of kinship.

     What’s interesting is that someone in the field processed two samples from the same source on 4/14.

     There were no names attached that time either, but the result was the same.

     You might want to take another look.

He read it word by word.

No emotion.
No questions.
No explanation.

The sender wasn’t asking for anything—only passing along what he thought Jiang Zhilin should know.

Like an addendum.
Like a fact that had lain quietly in a filing cabinet for months, now drawn out and laid under the light.

Sibling…

…relationship.

The phone slipped from his grasp and struck the floor.

There should have been a sound—sharp, jarring.

Instead, he realized he could no longer hear the world outside.

Nothing remained but his heartbeat—
exploding deep against his eardrums.

Irregular.
Each beat heavier than the last.
Each one louder.

His fingers began to tremble, starting at the joints, the shiver running up his arm and crashing into his chest.

His body leaned back, slowly—

then, as if all support had vanished, tilted sideways.

“Hh… hh…”

Air suddenly felt thin.

A first gasp tore free—pure instinct, nothing but survival.

He bit down on his lip, only to realize his teeth were chattering.

Fingernails dug deep into his palm.
His body curled inward, arms drawn tight as if trying to hold himself together.

He shook as though plunged into an icy lake.

“Wh—…”

His brow finally surrendered its pride; his eyes could no longer contain the flood.

“Wh… wh…”

Breath came apart, broken sounds forcing their way from his throat, as though something were crushing his chest, denying him air.

He could no longer tell where the pain was coming from.

Whether it was now—
or something that had existed for a very long time,
only now finally acknowledged.

Memories surged up with the tears.

Sea wind brushing past, I finally slipped the bracelet—chosen after so long—onto his wrist.

“From now on… no matter what happens, we face it together. Okay?”
“…Okay.”

He had hesitated.

That day, in the hospital room where he woke, Shen Yanxing stood by the bed, face pale.

“Why do you… look like shit?”
“I’m fine.”

Why didn’t I ask more then…?

That night, for the first time, he spoke my name in love.
For the first time, he gently rested a hand on my head.

What were you holding in your heart?

The final image.

Bang—!

The second before the shot.
Those eyes—without hatred, without hesitation…

“Hh… hh…”

Liar…

You knew all along…

Why didn’t I see it?

If only I had caught it—just once…

Would it have been…

different?

The temperature plunged without warning, and he couldn’t tell what it carried away.

The aftershock came to rest at a single moment.

Only that sliver of light remained, settling quietly on the window seat not far away—

Sunlight was still there.

Slanting through the half-drawn curtain, it fell on one corner of the window seat.

Resting there was a transparent crystal vase, finely shaped, its carved edges catching faint refractions in stillness.

Inside, only a few bare stems and yellowed leaves remained.

Around it lay a scattered ring of dried petals, clinging to the glass and the edge of the sill, their color long faded, their shapes no longer distinct.

Soft light covered everything, leaving behind a warmth that had yet to disperse.

Beside the vase lay the letter and two silver bracelets.

Surface of the paper curled slightly;
metal bands leaned against each other, their edges quietly holding a trace of cold.

Only time was still there—
slowly,
lingering.