The room was swallowed in darkness.
Not the kind that simply came with nightfall—but a heavy, suffocating sort, as though even the walls knew something was coming and had recoiled into silence. The flickering red light of the heart monitor pulsed slowly across Su Yiren's pale face, casting brief, eerie shadows.
She lay there, unmoving.
Eyes open. Breathing shallow. Sleepless.
Since her encounter with Han Su and Xiao Lin, something inside her had been slowly unraveling. Now, silence wasn't peace—it was torment. The quiet was too loud.
Then came the sound.
A click.
Soft. Barely audible. But in that sterile stillness, it echoed.
The door opened—just slightly—and then shut just as gently.
Someone had entered.
There were no footsteps. No creaking floorboards. Just presence.
The air shifted. Grew colder. Denser.
Still, Su Yiren didn't move. Her eyes remained wide, locked on the darkness before her, on the faint outline of the door. She didn't need to look. She felt it—the intrusion, the warning, the weight.
A voice cut through the air like a whisper wrapped in steel.
"She's throwing a banquet."
Low, controlled. A man's voice. Not loud, not threatening in volume—but laced with something far more dangerous. Precision.
"In Bai Zhiqi's name. And not just for remembrance."
The shape of him couldn't be seen clearly, only the faint silhouette, like a shadow pressed against the corner of the room. But his voice carried everything.
"Bai Lanyue's no longer looking. She's unveiling."
A pause. The faintest breath.
"She's inviting the Ji family. The veiled musician. She's putting everything in place. Every player in position. And when the curtains rise… it won't just be a banquet. It'll be a reckoning."
Silence hung.
"She already knows more than she should. And she's not afraid to use it."
The man stepped closer. Just one step—but enough for the air to coil around Su Yiren like a snake, choking, suffocating.
"She's not coming quietly anymore."
He said it like a prophecy.
Another step.
"She doesn't need confirmation. She needs a stage."
There was a pause. Lingering. As if he was watching her. Studying her.
"And once she opens her mouth, no one's name will be safe."
A beat.
"Especially yours."
He didn't wait for her to speak—didn't expect her to. The room didn't need her words. Her silence was loud enough. Her stillness was a scream.
Then he turned.
Walked away.
The door opened with a hush.
Closed with a whisper.
And the darkness returned to its perfect silence.
Only now, Su Yiren was trembling.
She didn't cry. She didn't gasp. But her entire body quivered beneath the thin white sheets, the cold slicing through her skin like a blade.
She wasn't safe.
Not from the past.
And not from the future Bai Lanyue was about to drag into the light.