The three of them gathered in Ling Zhao's living room. After reading his diary, Grant felt a silent, crushing pain in his chest. He deeply regretted his stubbornness back then—how he had refused to lower his pride, apologize, and coax the other to come back.
He couldn't even remember what exactly had sparked their fight. It was just a buildup of small things, minor disagreements that eventually exploded. Neither of them would back down. In the end, Ling Zhao had packed his bags and returned to this city—where Ling's father still lived.
They stopped contacting each other. Grant, at the time, had kept waiting for Ling Zhao to message first. But Ling Zhao never did. Too stubborn to take the first step himself, Grant also stayed silent. And so, six months passed with neither of them making a move.
By the time Grant finally realized things couldn't go on like this—it was already too late. When he went to find Ling Zhao, he discovered that Chen Qiyue was already by his side. There was nothing he could do. All he could do was walk away, choosing not to disturb Ling Zhao's new life.
Two years later, unable to bear the longing any longer, he heard that Ling Zhao was preparing to film a new script. With no other excuse, he approached him again under the guise of an investor. What he hadn't expected was that Ling Zhao hadn't been living well these past few years.
But no amount of "if only" could change the outcome.
Grant crouched down, clutching the diary to his chest in pain. Han Ling let him be, giving him time to process everything. He hadn't expected Chen Qiyue's possessiveness over Ling Zhao to be this intense either…
Leander led Han Ling around the house, observing carefully. Ling Zhao's home had a simple, warm-toned design. Earlier, they hadn't paid close attention during their search, but now they were starting to notice small clues, allowing them to examine the house more thoroughly.
When Han Ling pushed open the study door and stepped back into the living room, Grant had already left. He was now silently crying in Ling Zhao's bedroom. They chose to give him space and time, waiting for him to calm down before continuing the investigation.
The living room remained quiet, just as it had been the last time they left.
A faint woody scent still lingered in the air, mingling with the silence of a place long uninhabited. Time itself seemed to have frozen here, unwilling to move forward. Ling Zhao's slippers were still neatly placed by the door, the teacup lid beside the sofa perfectly aligned. Only a thin layer of dust reminded them that the owner of this house… would not be coming back.
Leander entered a moment later, his footsteps as light as a cat's. He didn't look around. The moment he stepped into the living room, he lifted his wrist and activated his light-brain.
Han Ling watched as he stopped at the center of the room. A soft blue light pulsed from the device on Leander's wrist. Delicate streams of light flowed out like water, forming a holographic interface suspended in midair.
"I still think there's a high chance… I'm starting the scan now," Leander said softly, his tone emotionless. "Stand over there. That spot won't interfere with the signal."
Han Ling frowned slightly. "…Alright."
He walked to the wall and leaned against a cabinet, silently watching Leander work. It was the first time he'd seen him operate one of these devices, and it reminded him of Leander's identity—heir to an ancient family, trained from a young age in both elite academics and combat. Even his portable light-brain was custom-made to military standards, far beyond any commercial version.
It made Han Ling think back to his own days as the sect master in the Celestial Realm. Life hadn't been easy back then either…
He continued watching. Leander's gaze was sharp, his long lashes casting shadows under the light-screen. His fingertips moved swiftly in the air, executing several commands. As he worked, a ripple of blue spread out from the device, slowly expanding to scan the entire living room.
"You really think Ling Zhao installed surveillance here?" Han Ling couldn't help but ask, lowering his voice.
Leander didn't look back. "There's at least a seventy percent chance. His diary mentioned Chen Qiyue often used self-harm to manipulate him. In that kind of situation, there's no way he wouldn't take precautions. Besides… he's a screenwriter. He knows how dark the human heart can be."
Han Ling fell silent.
"You said seventy percent earlier. Now it's seventy?" he asked, deliberately lightening the tone.
Leander glanced at him and finally allowed a faint smile. "I said seventy-five before. But after seeing the layout of this living room, I'd say eighty-five isn't unreasonable."
He had briefly mentioned back in the study that there was a high chance—seventy-five percent, to be exact—that Ling Zhao had installed small, undetectable surveillance devices.
Han Ling felt a slight warmth in his chest. Though Leander often appeared cold on the surface, moments like this—when his attentiveness showed through—brought an odd sense of reassurance.
A soft ping came from the light-brain, and Leander's expression changed instantly.
"We have a signal." He moved swiftly, sliding his fingers across the interface. A three-dimensional model appeared—beneath the ceiling fan, a faint heat source flickered into view.
"The first one's inside the fan." His voice was low and steady. "Perfect angle. Covers the entire sofa area."
"So he did install them…" Han Ling's voice was complex. Aside from the need to guard against outside threats, he also had to protect himself from that possessive boyfriend…
"Continuing the scan," Leander said calmly, eyes never leaving the screen.
Seconds later, two more red dots popped up.
"Behind the painting and by the corner of the cabinet…" Leander frowned. "Even the kitchen entrance is covered. This wasn't temporary. It was planned."
"He really treated this place like a fortress," Han Ling muttered, staring at the red dot by the painting, his voice tinged with bitterness.
"He knew some people weren't coming to visit—they were coming to destroy," Leander replied flatly, noting down the three surveillance coordinates. "I can force access to the control system, but I'll need time to sync the frequencies."
He paused, glanced over his shoulder. "Aren't you tired standing like that?"
"…I'm fine." Han Ling blinked, realizing he'd been standing in the same position for quite a while.
Leander stared at him for two seconds, then suddenly said, "Come closer. Stand by me. You're not blocking the signal."
Han Ling hesitated, then took a few steps closer, standing to Leander's right. They were now so close that their shoulders nearly brushed. Just as Han Ling wondered if the proximity would interfere with anything, Leander leaned down and swiftly kissed the edge of his cheek.
Startled, Han Ling's face flushed red. The sight made Leander's throat tighten. He couldn't find words to speak.
At that moment, Grant emerged from Ling Zhao's bedroom. Though he had washed his face, the redness around his eyes betrayed the painful truth—he had cried, miserably.
"Are you blaming yourself?" Han Ling suddenly asked.
Grant flinched and turned to meet his gaze. He didn't deny it.
He had been replaying the regret, again and again.
"If I'd realized earlier that something was wrong… or if I had been more assertive, and not let him see Chen Qiyue again…"
"This wasn't something you could control," Han Ling said flatly, but with quiet strength. "You weren't the kind of person who tried to control him. What you gave him was freedom—not a cage."
"But he's dead. And we still haven't found his soul." Grant's voice was low. "What use is freedom, choice, or trust now? It's all meaningless…"
Leander remained silent, but the moment those words left Grant's lips, he reached out and gently held Han Ling's wrist. Startled, Han Ling looked at him.
"I won't let you end up crying like that," Leander meant to say—and Han Ling, understanding him, simply tightened his grip in return, holding those fingers before they could curl too tightly.
"You have every right to grieve," Han Ling said softly. "But don't let that grief become a chain around your ankle. Ling Zhao left these things behind… maybe so you could see them. Speak for him."
Grant's throat tightened. He could only nod hard in response.
At that moment, the light-brain let out a soft beep. Leander slid his fingers again, and the fourth surveillance point was revealed.
"Behind the wall socket, angled to cover the entryway," he said. "Four in total. Full coverage… I can access the system."
He looked up at Han Ling, eyes flashing with a cold light beneath the ceiling glow. "We will find the evidence."
Han Ling met his gaze without hesitation. "We won't let him die for nothing." Grant nodded silently.
Han Ling and Leander stood in the quiet layers of shifting light, shoulder to shoulder. In that moment, they weren't just companions searching for truth—they were each other's last refuge. A bond of trust and protection, forged in silence.
---
The room remained as silent as the day before. Only the unclosed corner of the curtain swayed slightly, casting a faint shadow in the morning light.
Leander stood in the center of Ling Zhao's living room, adjusting the transparent light-brain ring on his finger. Its soft pulses of light glimmered like some mysterious heirloom from his ancient family.
"All set," he said without looking up.
Han Ling, leaning against the doorway, nodded slightly. "You sure the footage is still saved?"
Leander gave a faint smile. "If Ling Zhao was truly prepared… he wouldn't overlook something so crucial. These surveillance devices are high-concealment type. Based on the earlier scan, three of them were coated with anti-detection interference—only specific tech can unlock them."
Leander activated his light-brain, a translucent holographic interface spread out before him. Blue and white light rippled like flowing stardust between his fingertips, weaving a three-dimensional model of the house in midair, each surveillance point clearly marked.
Han Ling frowned slightly. "So these four surveillance points… can play actual footage?"
"Of course." Leander snapped his fingers. The hologram trembled, and the next second, the display shifted to Ling Zhao's living room surveillance. The dual-screen interface automatically split: the left showed the living room, the right displayed the kitchen.
He selected a specific timestamp and told Han Ling, "This is the day we saw from the elevator footage—when Chen Qiyue and Ling Ning both appeared in this building."
Han Ling stepped closer, eyes fixed on the timestamp. A second later, the footage began to move.
—The front door opened. Chen Qiyue stepped in first, followed by Ling Ning in a simple coat. Her footsteps were nearly silent, like someone sneaking into a place they didn't want to leave any trace of.
Ling Zhao walked up to meet them, speaking briefly with Chen Qiyue in the center of the living room. Leander adjusted the audio sensitivity. Though the sound was faint, fragments of the conversation were still audible.
"…Didn't you say… you needed time to calm down?" Ling Zhao's voice trembled.
Chen Qiyue lowered his head, fingers brushing along the armrest of the sofa. His voice was muffled. "You think you can just say it's over and that's it? Do you have any idea how I was those few days… I nearly—"
Ling Zhao stepped back, eyes red, clearly on the verge of breaking down. "Nearly what? Don't think I don't know what you and my sister have done. She's even pregnant! Are you even human? How could you betray me like this—both of you?!"
Tears fell as he turned away, covering his face with one hand, back facing them both.
Leander hit pause. The image froze.
"Did you notice?" he asked.
"Notice what?"
Leander zoomed in on the top right corner of the screen—showing the corridor leading to the kitchen. Ling Ning was seen quietly slipping into the hallway, her expression cold, movements precise, as if she already knew exactly where to go.
"She didn't say a single word," Han Ling murmured.
"That's exactly what makes her suspicious," Leander replied coolly. He quickly switched to the kitchen feed. This time, the image was sharper. Ling Ning stood in the far corner, speaking to what appeared to be an empty space.
"Who is she talking to?" Grant narrowed his eyes.
"There's nothing on the screen. Earlier, Han Ling mentioned that someone might've used concealment—either a formation or a charm," Leander said. He enhanced the footage further, simulating the path of spiritual energy fluctuations. His custom light-brain was equipped to detect anomalies beyond normal surveillance.
Han Ling's expression darkened. "I was right… Ling Ning was working with that Celestial Master. Ling Zhao could only see her and Chen Qiyue, but that person—he was invisible to him. Only the two of them could see him."
The next moment, in the footage, Ling Ning reached for a kitchen knife from the rack. She turned and extended the blade toward… thin air.
"She's… handing it to someone?" Han Ling's voice dropped.
And then—they saw something unbelievable.
The knife hovered in the air, seemingly received by an invisible hand. Silence followed. Then, a black-red aura surged from the emptiness, flooding into the knife. The blade trembled as it absorbed the sinister energy, glowing with a twisted hue.
"That's… a Resentment Curse." Han Ling's eyes widened. "That kind of spell is deeply wicked. It requires someone with overwhelming hatred and unfulfilled obsession to enact. Only that kind of intensity can break through the protection of the Heavenly Dao. Ling Zhao… he had too much merit. Ordinary dark magic couldn't touch him."
Leander didn't speak, simply switched back to the living room footage.
There, Chen Qiyue was still screaming accusations at Ling Zhao, his voice cracking with emotional hysteria.
"You always said you never loved me! Now that your ex is back, you want to throw me away, right?! No way! Your sister is pregnant now—you'll never be able to get rid of me!!!…"
Ling Zhao, still facing away from the kitchen, trembled slightly at the sound of those soul-crushing words. His shoulders shook, as if completely drained.
And then—Ling Ning appeared.
She stepped out of the kitchen slowly, the glowing kitchen knife in her hand. Her expression was terrifyingly calm, even wearing a faint, twisted smile.
—The camera zoomed in.
In that instant, her eyes were filled with hatred and chilling resolve.
No hesitation.
She raised the knife and, in one swift motion, slashed toward Ling Zhao's exposed neck—
"Stop!" Grant shouted, voice cracking, but the footage played on.
Ling Zhao clutched his neck, eyes wide in shock and disbelief. His lips moved, but no sound came. Chen Qiyue stood by the sofa, unmoving, only watching coldly as Ling Zhao collapsed into a pool of blood.
"He didn't stop her," Leander said quietly, though there was a steel edge in his voice. "If anything… he looked like he was waiting for it."
Han Ling's hand clenched unconsciously. "Was all this really just to steal a script? Or something more twisted?"
He still couldn't fully grasp whether Chen Qiyue wanted Ling Zhao's script to boost his fame or if he simply wanted to keep Ling Zhao chained to him, under the pretense of love.
As for Ling Ning, her motive seemed clearer. She had always been inferior to her brother in every way—and not only was he famous, but the person she liked… was dating him. That kind of jealousy could easily turn into hatred and obsession.
Just then, Leander continued playing the footage. They watched as Chen Qiyue and Ling Ning stood silently, emotionlessly, over Ling Zhao's lifeless body.
Chen Qiyue then knelt down.
He reached for Ling Zhao's hand and removed the ring from his finger, handing it to the invisible figure beside him.
"So… Ling Zhao's soul really was sealed inside that ring Chen Qiyue wears?" Grant choked on his words, tears flowing once more.
His beloved Ling Zhao… how could he have been murdered so brutally?
------
Ling Zhao's story is about to take a major turn.
If you've felt his pain—if you're hoping to see him find redemption,please consider adding this book to your collection.
It means so much to me and gives me the motivation to keep writing.