When you held Li Tianxi’s limp hand in yours, you weren’t prepared for the flood of images that surged through your mind. One by one, her memories unfolded, drawing tears from your eyes as you clutched her hand in the heat of the moment. Nearby, Cheng Xiaoshi and Lu Guang fought to subdue Qian Jin, holding him off just long enough for the police to arrive.

Even after she was gone, her presence lingered. You could still feel the ghost of her gradually cooling hand against your palm when the boys returned to the photo studio. Cheng Xiaoshi had his arm around Lu Guang’s shoulders for support, with Officer Xiao Li following closely behind.

“Are you still pretending to be disabled?” Lu Guang murmured, more a statement than a question. He gave Xiaoshi a gentle shove, and Xiaoshi tumbled dramatically onto the couch with a loud yelp, arms thrown over the back and a grin too wide for everything they’d just been through.

“Home sweet home~” he sighed, peeking up at you. He was already planning to guilt you into waiving his rent, but then his eyes landed on the decorations behind you. “Oh? You actually made us a welcome feast!” He motioned Lu Guang over. “Come on, Lu Guang. Help me.”

Lu Guang didn’t react to Xiaoshi’s theatrics, much to the latter’s dismay. He barely seemed to hear him. Instead, he met your gaze for a brief moment before walking past you. Xiaoshi scurried after him with a mock-offended whine about being abandoned for food.

But Lu Guang didn’t eat.

While you and Xiaoshi started eating before the dishes went cold, you noticed the way Lu Guang watched him, a quiet longing in his eyes. It was difficult to swallow your food as the memory of Tianxi’s final moments resurfaced. The visions you had seen—scenes playing out in real time—had somehow appeared in Lu Guang’s memories as if they had already happened. Cheng Xiaoshi died.

Cheng Xiaoshi waved a hand in front of your face to snap you out of it. You’d been staring—not at Cheng Xiaoshi, but at Lu Guang, who had been watching him like he might vanish if he blinked.

Lu Guang finally looked away and met your eyes. He gave a small, almost mechanical nod, as if that alone could convince you he was fine. Then he reached for his chopsticks and picked up a piece of food, but you could tell his mind was elsewhere. His gaze stayed on the table, unfocused and distant.

When his fingers trembled slightly, you set your own chopsticks down. The soft clatter drew his attention. As you called his name, his hand halted in midair. For a moment, he didn’t move. “…What is it, {{user}}?”