The black car rolled through the iron gates of the Tang residence just as the clock struck noon.
Meilin leaned back in her seat, her injured foot resting carefully on a cushion her brother had insisted on placing there. The moment the car stopped, Tang Yuze was already at her side, opening the door with practiced ease.
"Slow," he said, his tone firm. "Don't rush."
"I'm not made of glass," Meilin replied, though she obediently placed her weight on the other foot.
Tang Yuze snorted. "You slipped on a mountain trail and still want to argue?"
She smiled faintly.
The pain in her ankle had eased significantly after the ointment he had applied in the morning, but it wasn't completely gone. Each step still carried a dull reminder.
Inside the house, the familiar warmth wrapped around her.
The smell of food drifted from the dining hall—steamed fish, braised pork, herbal soup simmering slowly. It felt grounding, almost unreal after the sharp air and danger of Xingyuan Mountain.
Mother Wu was already waiting.
"You're back," she said softly, eyes immediately dropping to Meilin's foot. "Sit first. Lunch is ready."
Meilin barely had time to respond before Tang Yuze pulled out a chair for her.
"Eat properly," he ordered. "And after that, you're resting. No negotiations."
She raised an eyebrow. "Not even a short walk?"
"No."
"Brother—"
"No."
The finality in his voice made her laugh.
Fine. One day of rest wouldn't kill her.
Lunch — Unspoken Observations
Lunch passed quietly.
Meilin ate slowly, her movements careful. Across the table, her grandfather watched her with a gaze that carried both relief and something deeper—pride, perhaps.
After a while, he set down his chopsticks.
"Meilin," Grandpa Tang said, his voice steady, "there's something I've been thinking about."
She looked up. "Yes, Grandpa?"
"You've been back for some time now. The Tang family hasn't formally introduced you to the wider circle yet." He paused. "How about holding a banquet next week?"
Tang Yuze straightened slightly.
"A banquet?" Meilin echoed.
"Yes," Grandpa Tang continued. "To officially welcome my granddaughter back."
The words settled in the air.
Meilin didn't immediately answer.
A banquet meant attention. Faces. Whispers. Power games.
But it also meant standing openly as a Tang.
She glanced at her brother, then back at her grandfather.
"That's fine," she said finally.
A faint smile appeared on Grandpa Tang's face.
Then, almost casually, Meilin added, "Can I bring my friends?"
Tang Yuze's gaze flickered toward her.
Friends?
Meilin's thoughts drifted, unbidden, to a quiet dinner not long ago—how someone had been seated to her right, how she had reached out without thinking and placed food into his bowl, how the table had gone momentarily still.
At the time, she hadn't noticed.
Now, remembering it, her ears warmed slightly.
Across the table, Grandpa Tang and Tang Yuze exchanged a brief look.
A look that said: So that's how it is.
Grandpa Tang nodded. "Of course. Invite whomever you like."
Meilin smiled, brighter this time. "Thank you, Grandpa."
After lunch, she stood carefully.
"I'll rest now," she said. "Tomorrow I'll go to college and give out the invitations."
Tang Yuze waved her off. "Go. And don't move around."
She obeyed.
Afternoon — Quiet Room
Back in her room, Meilin settled onto the bed with a soft sigh.
Zimei hopped up beside her, tail wagging happily, then curled against her thigh. Meilin absently stroked the puppy's fur, her gaze drifting toward the window.
Her mind, however, refused to rest.
A banquet.
Invitations.
And one name surfaced clearly among all others.
Zihan.
She closed her eyes briefly.
It would be good to see him there—somewhere bright, safe, untouched by mountains or blood or fear.
She shifted slightly, careful of her ankle, and finally allowed sleep to pull her under.
Parallel — Old Apartment, Afternoon
The bus ride back from Xingyuan Mountain felt longer than it should have.
By the time Zihan and Xu Feng reached the old apartment, the sun was already slanting west.
Inside, the place was quiet.
Somin had already prepared lunch—simple dishes, neatly arranged—but had left early for school.
Zihan ate without much appetite.
Xu Feng, sprawled lazily on the chair, glanced at him. "You've been quiet since morning."
Zihan didn't answer.
After lunch, both retreated to their rooms.
Zihan lay down, one arm draped over his eyes.
The room was dim, curtains half-drawn.
Yet his mind replayed scenes vividly—mountain paths, a girl sitting beside him, the weight on his back as he carried her, the warmth that had lingered long after.
He turned to his side.
His phone lay on the table.
No messages.
No missed calls.
He exhaled slowly.
She's probably resting, he told himself.
Her ankle had been injured. Her family would take care of her.
She didn't need him hovering on the edges of her life.
Still—
Sleep came slowly.
And even as he drifted off, his thoughts circled around one quiet truth he hadn't dared to voice yet.
He wanted to see her again.