he stairs creaked with every step, each one like treading on shards of shattered memory.
Lin Zhixia’s flashlight beam cut a faint line through the darkness, dust churning in the light like countless tiny souls dancing.
The attic was smaller and quieter than she had imagined.
A broken window stood ajar, wind rushing in, carrying dampness and the scent of mildew… and a faint, lingering fragrance of gardenia.
Her heart pounded violently.
Not from fear.
Because she heard a voice.
Low, hoarse, restrained, carrying the tremor unique to youth—slowly flowing from an old tape recorder in the corner.
“She placed first in the grade for math today. I deliberately left my error-correction notebook on her seat, making her think the teacher had marked it… she never noticed.”
It was Gu Chen’s voice.
She stood frozen, almost dropping the flashlight.
The tape was still turning, the needle gently scraping, as if licking old wounds.
“April 7, 2019. She had a fever and took leave. I went through her homework notebook, copied every mistake, re-did them all myself, and quietly put it back. When she returned, she stared at it for a long time and said, ‘The teacher’s corrections are so thorough’… I never told her I stayed up all night.”
Her fingertips went cold, her throat blocked by something she couldn’t swallow.
She moved closer, step by step, crouching before the tape recorder, staring at that rust-covered machine like a secret that had been silent for five years.
“December 3, 2020. She was cornered by that group from Class Three in the back alley. I rushed over and got kicked twice. She cried out my name, but I couldn’t look at her. Afraid she’d see the reluctance in my eyes.”
She clapped a hand over her mouth, tears falling silently onto the floor.
The recording continued, fragmented, like a long confession torn apart by time and stitched back together.
“May 18, 2021. Her birthday. I saved up three months’ allowance and bought a cake from her favorite shop. But I only dared leave it downstairs at her building—I didn’t ring the doorbell. She never found out, but I heard her crying. She thought it was the rain.”
“March 2, 2022. She asked why I always avoided her. I said, ‘You’re too dazzling, I don’t deserve you.’ Truth is… I was afraid that getting close to you would bring the darkness to your doorstep.”
Her vision blurred.
She reached out, trembling, and pressed pause.
The world fell silent.
Only the wind still whispered beyond the window.
She stared at the tape recorder like it held Gu Chen’s very soul.
Then she saw it.
Beside the recorder, a piece of paper was pinned down.
Not printed—hand-drawn, with pencil lines, some sections reworked multiple times, the ink smudged, as if dampened by tears.
A map.
An abandoned factory in the east of the city—marked with a red X.
Underground loan operations—circled, with a note beside: “Old Zhao, moneylender, interest 15%.”
And a name, traced heavily in black ink, as if written with all the strength in the world:
[BLACK KITE]
She grabbed the paper, her knuckles white.
He wasn’t running from debt.
He wasn’t hiding from creditors.
He was shielding her.
She remembered the scarred wound on his arm last month—”just a fall.”
She remembered how he always said he was “studying at the library” after school, yet never waited for her at the gate.
She remembered how, every time she was surrounded by classmates, he would suddenly appear, standing silently behind her like a wall.
He hadn’t been protecting her safety.
He had been shouldering all the storms meant for her.
She recalled that unsent letter, those words on the paper crane: “If you ever find this place, it means I have no right to run anymore.”
She finally understood.
It wasn’t that he had no right.
It was that he didn’t dare claim it.
“If I disappear, the debts won’t touch you.” The final words from the recording echoed in her mind again, like a knife scraping bone.
She closed her eyes, tears falling.
“But I… couldn’t bear it.”
She shot to her feet and rushed toward the stairs, her steps so hurried she nearly stumbled.
She had to find him.
Right now.
She burst out of the old house, the sunlight blinding, yet the world felt gray.
She pulled out her phone, fingers trembling as she dialed that number—he never answered, she knew.
But this time, she didn’t plan on waiting.
Her voice was hoarse, torn raw from her chest as she spoke into the receiver:
“Gu Chen, listen to me—you can’t escape. Not because of that graduation photo I drew, but because I’m coming to find you right now. If you hide, I’ll post that recording everywhere—to the whole school, across the internet, to every corner you’ve hated, feared, and run from!”
She paused, tears splashing onto the screen.
“You’re not alone. You never were.”
Silence on the other end.
Three seconds.
Then, a faint, almost imperceptible breath.
She heard it.
He hadn’t hung up.
He was listening.
She continued, her voice growing steadier, brighter:
“The knives you took for me—I’ll pull them out. The debts you carried—I’ll repay them. The truth you buried—I’ll tear it open. You’ve hidden for five years, Gu Chen. Now it’s my turn.”
From the other end came a barely audible sob.
Then, footsteps.
Far away, but clear.
He was walking toward her.
She looked up toward the street corner.
A black sedan slowly pulled up at the alley entrance.
The window rolled down.
A face—familiar yet foreign.
Not a debt collector.
It was Gu Chen’s father.
He had grown thinner, eyes sunken, gaze murky, clutching a piece of paper—a property deed.
He looked at her, his lips moving, his voice raspy like grinding sandpaper:
“You… know everything?”
She didn’t answer.
She just raised her phone—the screen lit up, the recorder’s playback interface, paused on Gu Chen’s final words:
“But I… couldn’t bear it.”
She stared at him, speaking each word with precision:
“Your son loved me for six whole years. And you traded his life for a house.”
She pocketed her phone, turned, and walked deeper into the alley.
The wind lifted her uniform skirt like a small flag.
She knew Gu Chen was ahead.
She knew the shadow of Black Kite was just beginning.
She also knew—
This time, she would not let him walk into the darkness alone.
She would walk in with him.
If You Notice any translation issues or inconsistency in names, genders, or POV etc? Let us know here in the comments or on our Discord server, and we’ll fix it in current and future chapters. Thanks for helping us to improve! 🙂