The elevator doors opened to an empty hallway—quiet, too quiet. A stillness that didn't feel peaceful but suffocating, like the air knew the weight of the past about to be unearthed.
Xiao Lin walked ahead, her coat swaying with every precise step, heels muted against the polished floor. Han Su trailed her, a rare seriousness carved into his usual playful face. There was no room for his usual antics—not today.
"Room 03," Xiao Lin murmured, her voice clipped, eyes narrowed. "Su Yiran."
She didn't knock gently. Two sharp raps. Commanding.
There was a pause before a frail voice answered, "Come in."
They stepped into a pale room soaked in late-afternoon gloom. No flowers. No visitors. Only a fragile woman by the window, cocooned in silence and a wool shawl. Her skin had lost its color, her features softer, but not by beauty—by guilt, by fear.
Su Yiran didn't rise. Her fingers fidgeted with the edge of her blanket, eyes flicking to Han Su and Xiao Lin like she knew exactly why they had come.
She did.
"I wasn't expecting anyone today," she whispered.
"You weren't supposed to," Xiao Lin replied coolly, stepping forward. "But we have questions, and you've had five years to think about your answers."
Han Su leaned on the door with arms crossed, gaze unwavering. "Let's not dance around it. Bai Zhiqi. The trial. Did she do it?"
Su Yiran blinked. Her fingers tightened around the blanket, knuckles pale.
"I…" her voice cracked. "I didn't mean for it to go that far. I was scared."
"You were scared?" Xiao Lin repeated, tone like glass. "She was sentenced to five years for something she didn't do."
"I didn't say she pushed me!" Su Yiran snapped suddenly—then recoiled at her own volume. Her shoulders hunched. "I didn't say it outright… They… they twisted it. And I let them."
"Who's they?" Han Su's tone was steel.
Su Yiran turned her face away. "I can't say."
"You *will* say," Xiao Lin said, stepping closer. Her voice lowered, more dangerous than loud. "Because if you don't, your silence will become your guilt."
Tears welled up in Su Yiran's eyes, but she didn't let them fall. Her voice came in a whisper, cracked and broken.
"It was Bai Lanyue… She came to me after the fall. Said the media could be controlled. Said it was better if I stayed quiet, better for me, for the Bai family. I was just a ward, she said. An accident would hurt their image. But if I said nothing, she'd… make sure I was taken care of."
"And so you sold Zhiqi's life to protect your comfort?" Han Su's voice was sharp now, the facade of charm stripped away.
Su Yiran flinched. "I didn't know she'd go to prison. I thought it would just go away. But then… it was too late. They painted her guilty before I could fix it."
Xiao Lin's eyes were like knives. "You didn't try to fix it. You watched her get devoured by the media. You watched her dragged in chains while the real culprit played innocent."
"She didn't deserve it," Su Yiran said suddenly, eyes wide and haunted. "Zhiqi didn't deserve any of it."
Silence.
Han Su exhaled, low and long. "We'll handle the rest. But if you're smart, you'll be ready to testify when the time comes."
Su Yiran didn't answer. Just nodded faintly, like a puppet hanging by one last thread.
Xiao Lin turned to leave, her steps deliberate. But before they exited, she looked over her shoulder.
"You owe her. Remember that."
The door shut softly behind them, leaving Su Yiran alone in her sterile, silent room—drenched in guilt, and for the first time in years, afraid of what truth would finally cost her.