The low hum of the television buzzed in the quiet of the secluded apartment. Bai Heng had only meant to drop by for a few days — a space away from prying eyes and family obligations. A moment to think. But when the screen lit up with the breaking news, that fragile calm shattered.
*"Su Yiren, former heiress and witness in the Bai Zhiqi case, has disappeared from Yuexiang Private Hospital under mysterious circumstances. The last confirmed visitor—"*
The name dropped like a hammer.
*"—Bai Heng."*
His own face flashed on the screen — a still from hospital CCTV. Clean-cut, coat draped over his arm, entering through the side corridor with his ID badge.
Bai Heng stumbled back, phone slipping from his hand and clattering against the tiled floor. He stared at the screen as if trying to convince himself it was a mistake. A misreport. A technical glitch.
But the bold red *BREAKING* graphic at the corner of the screen was painfully real.
"No… no, this wasn't supposed to—" he whispered, running a hand through his already disheveled hair.
He turned from the TV and snatched his phone off the floor, fingers trembling as he unlocked it. His inbox was a graveyard of unread messages.
*Dozens.*
Family. Work. Unknown numbers. And then—
The worst.
Social media had caught fire.
His name was trending.
*#BaiHengHospital*
*#SuYirenDisappearance*
*#VeiledMusicianLinked?*
One post sent a chill straight down his spine:
*"Did Bai Heng silence Su Yiren before she could speak? Remember the Bai Zhiqi trial? Is history repeating?"*
"No. No. No." He backed away from the screen like the words might crawl out and consume him.
He could already feel it. The noose tightening. The press waiting like vultures. His own shadow beginning to betray him.
Without thinking, Bai Heng moved into action — grabbed the burner phone, stuffed cash into his duffel, yanked open drawers for his passport.
But the phone buzzed in his hand before he could reach the door.
*Unknown Caller.*
He hesitated. Froze.
Then answered.
"Hello?" His voice cracked.
There was a pause. Then a female voice, light and dripping with feigned sweetness.
*"Running already, Young Master Bai?"*
His blood turned to ice.
"Who is this?" he hissed, backing toward the window.
Another voice joined — male this time, mocking.
*"Thought you could vanish? Too bad the internet doesn't sleep. Everyone's watching, Bai Heng. Smile for the cameras."*
His grip tightened on the phone.
He rushed to the curtain and peered outside — nothing seemed amiss. But paranoia gripped his throat like a vice.
"You don't understand," he said lowly, more to himself than the voices. "I didn't do anything to her. I didn't—she was alive when I left."
The female voice sighed dramatically.
*"Then you should've stayed long enough to make sure she still was."*
The call ended.
Bai Heng stared at the black screen, heart racing.
His attempt to disappear had already failed.
Someone had eyes on him. Someone had known exactly where to find him — not physically, but where it mattered: his fear.
He looked down at the duffel bag still in his hand. A useless hope now.
The storm had already started.
And he was dead center.