The walk back home was heavier than Xing Li had anticipated. She had thought, at first, that carrying a strange girl into their lives would feel like a burden—something foreign, an intrusion on the order of their day. But the child's thin arms around her waist, the way she clung like a drowning soul afraid of the sea's next wave, stirred something far deeper than pity.
Ji Wei trailed close behind, his phone still in his hand though the screen had long gone black. He kept glancing back every few steps, making sure none of those men were following. The street was quiet now, but silence after such a confrontation always carried its own menace.
The girl refused to let go. Not when they crossed the bridge into the residential quarter, not when a cart rattled past them, not even when a curious neighbor leaned from her window and frowned at the sight. She clung, mute and desperate, her small fingers digging into the folds of Xing Li's dress.
When they finally reached the house, Meng Zi was bent over with a rag in hand, scrubbing at the already-clean floor near the doorway. She straightened immediately at the sight of them. Her brows rose, and the rag dropped back into the bucket with a soft splash.
"You left just for job hunting," she said, voice sharp with curiosity. "What happened?"
Ji Wei waved his hand as if brushing dust from his sleeve. "Long story."
Xing Li, carefully disentangling the girl from her skirts, crouched down to meet her eyes. "It's all right now. You're safe here. Come inside."
The girl hesitated, her wide eyes darting to Meng Zi. For a moment she looked ready to bolt. Xing Li reached out, not to pull, but to let her small hand rest in her palm. Slowly, the girl's shoulders loosened, and she allowed herself to be guided past the threshold.
Meng Zi followed them in, curiosity darkening into suspicion. She closed the door behind them and wiped her damp hands on her apron. "Who is she?"
"She needs help," Xing Li answered simply.
"That doesn't answer my question."
"She doesn't speak," Ji Wei cut in, dropping his bag to the side. "We found her on the street. She was bruised, terrified, and clinging to my sister like her life depended on it. And then a group of men claimed her as family."
Meng Zi's lips pressed thin. "And you brought her here?"
"Yes," Xing Li said, tone calm but firm. "Would you rather we handed her over to men she clearly fears?"
The maid servant faltered, her mouth opening, then closing. She sighed. "You two will get me into trouble someday."
"Us? Or the world we happen to live in?" Ji Wei muttered, but he was ignored.
They guided the girl into the sitting room. She stood stiffly in the center, like a sparrow dropped into a cage, uncertain whether the hand reaching for her was gentle or cruel. Xing Li fetched a cushion and placed it on the couch. "Here, sit."
The girl obeyed, though her eyes never stopped roaming the room.
It was then that Xing Li noticed the full extent of her injuries. Beneath the ragged sleeve of her dress, purple bruises marred the fragile skin of her arms. Some old, some fresh. A cut just under her collarbone looked hastily healed, crusted at the edges. Xing Li felt anger rise, hot and sharp, but she steadied her breathing. Anger would frighten the girl further.
She knelt down again. "You don't have to be afraid here. No one will hurt you."
The girl blinked, then lowered her gaze.
Ji Wei crossed his arms. "She's not going to say anything, is she?"
"She doesn't have to," Xing Li replied. "Not yet."
Meng Zi returned with a bowl of warm water and a cloth. "At least clean her up," she said, setting it down. She tried to sound detached, but her hands were softer than her voice when she dabbed at the girl's cheek. The child flinched but didn't resist.
Ji Wei crouched on the other side, studying her. "You're not mute, are you?"
No answer. Only the tightening of her grip on the hem of Xing Li's dress.
He sighed. "Fine. Keep your secrets."
Across Town
The men who had confronted them didn't go far. They slunk into a narrow alley, where the air smelled of smoke and rot. Their leader, the broad-shouldered man who had claimed the girl as his niece, lit a cigarette with trembling fingers.
"She's with them now," one of the younger men said, his voice tinged with fear. "What if they report us?"
"They won't," the leader muttered, exhaling a harsh plume of smoke. "Didn't you see the way the boy pretended with his phone? He was bluffing. Rich brats, thinking money makes them invincible."
"Still…" another man pressed, "what if the mistress hears we lost her again?"
At the mention of the mistress, silence fell. Even the air seemed to freeze. The leader ground the cigarette beneath his heel, eyes narrowing.
"She'll hear," he said darkly. "We have no choice but to report. Better she hears it from us than from someone else."
Far from the modest home of Xing Li and Ji Wei, in a house that looked more like a fortress than a residence, the older lady stood by the window again. Her silhouette was severe against the glass, her reflection sharp and cold.
Li Yu knelt a few paces behind, her head bowed.
"You lost her." The words were quiet, but they cut like a blade.
"Yes, Madame." Li Yu's voice was steady, but her hands trembled against the floor. "She slipped away again. I'm sorry."
"And the man?"
"The spy saw him and his sister. But no news of her yet."
The older lady's lips curled, not into a smile but something bitter. "As she always does. Finds someone to spy her. She thinks that makes her clever. She must be back. I'm tired."
"But she's far away. Should I go after her instead of sending a spy?" Li Yu asked.
The lady turned, her eyes glinting. "No. Not yet. Let her believe she is free. Safety makes her smug ego careless." She sat down in the high-backed chair, her hand brushing the armrest as if it were a throne. "But remember this, Li Yu—if you encounter her before I do, drag her back here. She needs to kneel in front of the ancestral hall, to reflect. "
"Yes, Madame." Li Yu pressed her forehead to the floor, though a pang of tease twisted her chest.
The older woman sighed and leaned back. "Stubborn girl. You won't escape family. Not for long."
Night fell quietly. Xing Li lit a lamp and set it on the small table, its glow softening the corners of the room. The girl sat near the couch, wrapped now in a blanket Meng Zi had grudgingly offered.
Ji Wei paced. He had been restless since their return, his plans for job hunting abandoned. "We can't just keep her here, Jie," he said finally. "She's not our responsibility."
Xing Li looked up from where she sat beside the girl. "And whose responsibility is she? The men who bruised her? The woman who will 'break her legs' if she runs?"
Ji Wei flinched. "You don't know that for sure."
"I know fear when I see it. She begged us without a single word."
He raked his hand through his hair, frustrated. "Then what do we do? Hide her forever? You know people will come looking."
"Then let them," Xing Li said softly, smoothing the blanket over the child's knees. "She's not going back."
The girl's hand twitched, almost as if she wanted to hold Xing Li's sleeve again, but she stopped herself. Instead, she leaned slightly against her, eyes half-closed.
Meng Zi, arms crossed, stood at the doorway. "You're both reckless. But…" She hesitated, then added, "I'll help. For now."
Xing Li gave her a grateful look.
And so the night stretched on.
But in that quiet house, with shadows creeping against the windows and the girl's bruises still dark beneath the lamplight, none of them realized the storm gathering beyond their fragile walls.
The girl had not spoken a single word. Yet in her silence, secrets heavier than any of them could guess were waiting to surface.
And when they did, lives would change—perhaps shatter.