Wenhao woke up feeling weightless.
For the first time in four years, he had slept through the night without nightmares. Without waking up in a cold sweat, reaching for someone who wasn't there. Without the crushing weight of loneliness pressing down on his chest.
He opened his eyes slowly. The room was warm and dim, lit by the soft morning light filtering through the curtains. The sheets smelled like lavender. The bed was soft beneath him.
And Zhenlong was staring at him.
Wenhao smiled. "Good morning."
Zhenlong leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his forehead. "Good morning."
Wenhao's smile widened. He reached up and cupped Zhenlong's face in his hands, his thumbs brushing gently over his cheekbones. Then his smile faded.
"Why do your eyes look even more tired?" he asked softly. "Did you even sleep last night?"
Zhenlong looked away. "I asked the cook to make pancakes. You love pancakes, right?"
Wenhao's hands tightened on his face, gently turning him back. "Zhenlong. Did you sleep?"
Zhenlong's jaw tightened. He tried to hold himself together, but the cracks were too deep. He nuzzled into Wenhao's chest, his arms wrapping around him like he was afraid Wenhao would dissolve into smoke.
"I was scared," he whispered. "Scared that you'd disappear again. That I'd fall asleep and wake up and you'd be gone."
Wenhao's heart ached. He wrapped his arms around Zhenlong and held him close, his fingers threading through his hair.
"Shh," Wenhao murmured. "I'm not going anywhere. I'm right here. I'm not leaving."
Zhenlong's grip tightened. His shoulders shook slightly.
They lay like that for a long time, tangled together in the warmth of the bed.
Breakfast was quiet but comfortable.
Pancakes. Fresh fruit. Strong coffee. Zhenlong watched Wenhao eat with a soft expression, as if he was memorizing every bite.
Afterward, they moved to the couch in the living room. Wenhao was curled against Zhenlong's side, his head resting on his chest, his legs draped over the armrest. Zhenlong's arm was wrapped around him, his fingers tracing lazy patterns on Wenhao's shoulder.
"What are we going to do?" Wenhao asked quietly. "I don't even know who framed me."
Zhenlong looked down at him. "For that, you have to go back to the company. To get to the bottom of this, you need to be there. Whoever set you up is still there. They'll slip up eventually."
Wenhao looked up at him. "But how?
Zhenlong raised an eyebrow. "Don't worry I've already covered everything"
Across the city, in the Liang mansion, Ruifen was fuming.
She stood in her office, her hands gripping the edge of her desk. Her face was pale with rage. The tablet on the desk was still playing the news report, but she had stopped listening.
"—after a thorough investigation, the police have concluded that the evidence against Mr. Wenhao Liang was fabricated. A mole within the company is believed to be responsible. The investigation is ongoing, but Mr. Liang has been released from custody and all charges have been dropped—"
Ruifen slammed her hand on the tablet, turning it off.
"This is nonsense," she hissed. "How? Who did they even catch? What the hell is going on? When did the investigation even start?"
Her assistant hesitated. "Maybe Mr. Wenhao bribed them?"
Ruifen shook her head. "That's impossible. I don't think he can bribe the whole department. Fuck. We have to do something else. Something bigger. Before he finds out the truth."
She started pacing the room, her mind racing.
Meanwhile
Wenhao decided to stop for coffee before heading to the company.
The café was small and tucked away on a quiet street. He had passed it a hundred times before but never gone inside. Today felt like the right day.
The bell above the door chimed as he entered. The owner, an elderly man with kind eyes and weathered hands, looked up from behind the counter.
His face went pale.
"Get out," the owner said, his voice trembling. "They're not here. Why are you here? Leave us alone. It's been three years now."
Wenhao froze. "What are you talking about? I just wanted to order coffee."
The owner stared at him, his eyes narrowing with suspicion. "You're Liang, aren't you?"
Wenhao nodded slowly. "Yes. I'm Wenhao Liang. But I don't—"
"Then how do you not know what I'm talking about?"
Wenhao walked closer to the counter, his heart pounding. "I swear to you. I don't know what you're talking about. I've been abroad for four years. I just came back a few days ago. Please. Tell me what happened."
The owner studied him for a long moment. Then he let out a shaky breath.
"You really don't know that.." he said quietly. "Xinyi. She married my son."
Wenhao's blood went cold. "What?"
"Three years ago. She ran away with him on her wedding day. Left everything behind. Your father... he sent men after them."
Wenhao's hands curled into fists. "My father did what?"
"Your father's men came here. They destroyed my shop. Broke my son's arm. Threatened to kill them both if they ever showed their faces in this city again." The old man's voice cracked. "My son begged them for forgiveness. On his knees. In the middle of the street. I watched it happen."
Wenhao felt like he couldn't breathe. "I... I didn't know. I didn't know any of this."
The old man's eyes softened slightly. "You really didn't know?."
"No. I swear. I've been trapped abroad all this time. My father sent me away. I couldn't even call anyone."
The old man was quiet for a moment. Then he nodded slowly.
"I can't give you their location," he said. "But I can give you my son's number. If they trust you, they'll tell you where they are themselves."
Wenhao nodded frantically. "Yes. Please. Thank you."
The old man wrote a number on a piece of paper and slid it across the counter.
Wenhao took it carefully, as if it was made of glass. "Thank you," he said again. "I won't let them down."
The old man nodded. "They don't deserve to live in fear."
Wenhao sat in the back of the car, the paper with the number crumpled in his sweaty palm. His heart hammered against his ribs as he dialed.
The phone rang once. Twice. Three times.
A man's voice answered. Gruff. Wary. "Hello?"
Wenhao's throat tightened. He forced the words out. "Hello? Can I... can I talk to Xinyi?"
A long pause. Then the voice came back, harder now. "Who are you? Why do you want to speak to Xinyi?"
Wenhao swallowed. "I'm her brother. I'm Wenhao. I just—"
The voice turned sharp with anger. "Xinyi is dead to you. Don't call this number again."
"Please," Wenhao said quickly, his voice cracking. "Please don't hang up. Just tell her it's Wenhao. Please. I've been looking for her for so long. I just want to know she's okay."
"I don't care if you're Wenhao or a celebrity. Leave us alone."
The man was about to hang up. Wenhao heard the shift in his breathing, the tightening of his grip on the phone.
Then a soft voice came from somewhere behind him. "Wenhao? Is it Wenhao? Let me talk to him. Please."
There was a muffled exchange. Then the phone changed hands.
"Wenhao?" Xinyi's voice came through, trembling. "Wenhao, is it really you?"
Wenhao broke. Tears spilled down his cheeks and his voice came out cracked and raw. "Xinyi. I missed you so much. What happened? Why did you leave? Why didn't you tell me?"
Xinyi started crying too. "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I couldn't stay. I couldn't marry him. I loved someone else and I couldn't—"
"I know," Wenhao said quickly. "I know. I talked to the café owner. Your father-in-law. He told me everything."
Xinyi's breath caught. "He did?"
"Yes. He gave me your number." Wenhao wiped his eyes. "Can I meet you? Please? I need to see you. I need to know you're okay."
Xinyi was quiet for a moment. Then she said, "I'll send you the location. But Wenhao... you need to come alone."
"I will. I promise."
"Thank you."
He was about to hang up when he heard it. A soft crying sound in the background. Small and plaintive. A baby.
Wenhao's heart stopped. "Xinyi... do you have a child?"
There was a pause. Then Xinyi's voice, barely above a whisper. "Yes. Her name is Hui. She's two years old."
Wenhao's tears started again. "I'll be there soon. I promise."
The line went dead.
The location came through a moment later. A small apartment on the outskirts of the city. It took over an hour to get there through the traffic.
The building was old and worn. The paint was peeling. The stairs creaked under his weight. Wenhao climbed to the third floor and stopped in front of a faded green door.
He hesitated. Then he knocked.
The door opened.
Xinyi stood there.
She looked different. Her clothes were old and faded. Her face was thinner, her eyes tired. But her smile was the same. Warm. Bright. Full of love.
Wenhao stepped forward and pulled her into his arms. He held her tight, his face buried in her hair, his body shaking with silent sobs.
"I missed you," he whispered. "I missed you so much."
Xinyi hugged him back just as tightly. "I missed you too. Every single day."
They stood there in the doorway, holding each other, neither willing to let go.
And for the first time in years, Wenhao felt like he had finally found something he had lost.