Was it because Mo Yachen had opened the window?
The last scraps of light in the room were swallowed by the roar of the storm, plunging everything into cold darkness.
The sky outside was shrouded in black clouds, suffocating and endless. With no sun, no stars, there was no light at all—only a dead stillness, as if the darkness itself was devouring everything.
And yet, in the downpour, two bright blue eyes learned to exist with the dark.
Ji Yu's gaze stayed fixed on Mo Yachen. In that shadow-filled room, her presence seemed to bring a fragile warmth. The heavy rhythm of the rain against the floor filled the silence with a strange kind of calm.
Boom—
Thunder rolled across the sky.
Mo Yachen returned to his easel. In the blackened room, he picked up his brush once again.
"By the way… you should already know I'm not only good at painting. I also know a bit of music theory. Especially guitar."
The words made Ji Yu freeze for a second, then nod slowly. But he didn't notice her reaction. His hand moved steadily, dipping into paint and sketching strokes onto the canvas hidden in shadow.
"Music is just the product of instruments making sound. And instruments… they come in countless kinds. Violin, bass, bagpipes, piano, and so on."
"They're all elegant in their own way. But I've always been drawn to the guitar."
The window, sensing the rain blowing in, slid shut automatically. Outside, thunder and lightning tore at the skies. Ji Yu listened, bracing herself for the next inevitable crash.
It came, blinding and deafening.
And after it passed, his words flowed more freely.
"You might not believe it, but when I was young, I wasn't even allowed to learn music. Still… I couldn't help myself. I wanted to follow my father's path. So I secretly tried to learn."
The storm outside beat against the glass.
Mo Xunhan drained her glass of cola, the fizz dying down as she finally smiled faintly.
"You should already know this part. Yachen and I were born in Wangjing. Our father is the chairman of Huoniao Music Group, and our mother—an oil painter famous both here and abroad."
"Sounds grand, doesn't it? But our childhood wasn't really free. From the time I could read, my father made me study film and music. And Yachen… Mother pushed him into art."
Her eyes softened as she tilted her head back, staring at the warm light of the ceiling lamp as though it were the sky beyond the villa walls.
"All day long, I sat with Father—listening to him play piano, watching old black-and-white films. Yachen followed Mother—sketching landscapes, learning to capture beauty with a brush. It was slow, repetitive, and dull. Back then, I hated it. But now…" Her smile dimmed. "If I could choose again, I'd go back to that childhood with him. A time where we didn't have to think about anything at all."
The sound of breathing filled the silence—steady, slow.
Ji Yu reached out and gently touched her arm.
"Mo-jie?"
"…Ah. Sorry. I was lost in thought."
Xunhan smiled faintly, refilled her glass with cola. Bubbles frothed up. She bent down, blew on them, then carefully topped it off.
"Yes. Back then, whenever we snuck out together, we'd buy this—cola that stung your throat when you drank it. That year… that day… Yachen's name was already spreading through the art world. And he, proud of it, decided to dabble in Father's world—music and film."
Her hand stilled. The glass brimmed over.
Ji Yu lifted her head again. What she saw in Xunhan's eyes wasn't warmth or absentminded nostalgia.
It was regret.
"Why didn't your father let you study music?"
Mo Yachen's hand trembled. He closed his eyes, struggling to recall memories he would rather bury. Minutes passed before he spoke.
"Because both my parents wanted us to master one thing only. Not to scatter ourselves across different fields."
"I won't teach you."
The memory was sharp. A stern man, expressionless, looking down at the boy he once was.
"But if you were forbidden, then why do you know so much music theory?"
A bitter smile twisted Yachen's lips. His brush shook as he pressed it to the canvas.
"My father wasn't just a chairman. In his youth, he was a music director. He took in students, people who shared his passion."
"Every instrument in a band demands years of focus. You can't master them all at once. So his students each chose their own, waiting for his guidance."
Ji Yu listened, her heart tightening.
"But one woman—she secretly helped me. Taught me guitar when no one else would."
"She was Father's last disciple. A guitarist who could tear through live houses and still hold her own in solo gigs. Her skill was… unmatched."
Xunhan's eyes darkened. Her lips curled in a smile that wasn't a smile.
"Her name was Liu Qian. She was about my age then, but her guitar playing felt like decades of training. And she wasn't just talented—she was kind. Gentle. Even my rebellious brother… she took care of him like no one else could."
"But in a world where only 'first place' mattered… a gentle girl like her ended up as the top of the class. Every concert called her name first. Her brilliance left the others in shadow."
"You can guess what happened to her in the end, can't you?"
Ji Yu pressed a hand to her chest. Her heartbeat raced.
"She was pushed out. By the ones she outshone."
Mo Yachen set his brush down, exhaling shakily. He glanced at Ji Yu, shivering in her thin dress. Without a word, he turned on the heater, fetched a blanket, and tossed it over her.
She curled into the sofa, wrapped up, eyes wide. He returned to his canvas, painting by the rhythm of the lightning flashes outside.
"You've been with me long enough. You should've realized—I don't like people getting too close."
His voice grew flat.
"Because…"
His next words dropped like thunder.
"…I was violated. By that woman."
The world went silent.
Only the rain remained.
Ji Yu froze. A flash of lightning split the sky, then thunder followed—deafening, shattering the fragile stillness.
When it faded, only heavy breathing filled the room, slow and suffocating. Coldness seeped in through the cracks, mingling with the girl's trembling body.
In the shadows, Mo Yachen's eyes glinted, watching her. He waited. She said nothing.
Then his lips curled. A cold laugh cut through the darkness.
"Now… are you satisfied?"