Chapter 23: Overlap

At one in the morning, in a villa on the outskirts, the flames within the building grew fiercer and fiercer.

Even the snowflakes drifting down from the sky became fuel, hissing as they touched the blaze, and the fire leapt higher still.

The scarlet glow dyed the pitch-black night sky blood-red.

In the cramped basement, tongues of fire raged.

Smoke choked the air, acrid and stinging the nose.

Wang Qiang’s eyes streamed with tears as he desperately held his breath.

Summoning all his strength, he gave a sudden yank—finally managing to snap the silver chain around that person’s neck.

The chain in his hand glowed red from the heat.

But before he could breathe a sigh of relief, the joy on his face froze.

A spark landed on his padded down jacket.

In an instant, the inner lining ignited, flames biting into his flesh.

“Ah—ahhh—!”

“It burns, it burns…”

“It hurts, it hurts—ahhh!”

He fell to the ground, rolling frantically back and forth, trying to smother the fire on his back.

But the searing heat of the basement had already scorched the floor, while the smoke thickened all around.

Gritting his teeth in pain, Wang Qiang staggered upright.

He pressed his back against the wall, rubbing desperately to extinguish the flames consuming him.

The wooden bed was already surrounded by fire.

Yu Zhu sat quietly at the head of the bed.

The burning planks beneath him were like a Noah’s Ark floating amidst a sea of fire.

The intruding middle-aged man could no longer see anything through the smoke.

Instinct drove him to cling to the wall.

He cursed incessantly, screaming from the pain, unable to think of anything else—yet his hand still clutched the broken silver chain with a death grip.

Yu Zhu gazed at the inferno.

The crimson glow painted his pale face with a trace of blood-red color.

Smoke filled his eyes with endless tears.

He pressed a hand to them, shutting them against the sting.

Around him rang curses and shrieks of agony, echoing endlessly.

‘It’s fine… to die like this…’

‘To die would be better.’

So many times before, he had nearly died.

But every time he opened his eyes again, it was always to the blinding white ceiling of a hospital, and the sharp stench of disinfectant.

This time, it would not be so.

As the fire crackled and roared, smoke flooded his lungs.

Dazzling light specks swam before his eyes.

He looked into the sea of fire—and heard his name.

“Xiao Zhu.”

It was his mother’s voice.

“Xiao Zhu, school starts tomorrow. Have you packed your things?”

“Your father and I know you’ll study well, so we won’t nag. Take care of yourself, and get along with your new classmates.”

“If anything happens, tell the family. Don’t fall in love. You know your own situation—a girl might take it seriously, and you’d only ruin her studies.”

“When has our son ever done something like that? Don’t worry yourself, woman.”

“Yes, yes…”

“Here, Xiao Zhu, Mama just fried crispy pork. Take some with you for the road.”

………

……

“Xiao Zhu, light the New Year lanterns! Only then will the year be festive! Hahaha, how did that song go again? Happy Goat, Pretty Goat…”

“Xiao Zhu—”

The fire spread swiftly.

The screams beside him gradually fell silent.

The wooden bed was nearly devoured whole.

And in Yu Zhu’s blurred vision, something came into focus.

“Cough, cough… cough…”

Parents.

New Year.

The future…

Live.

He wanted to live.

Using the chain still fixed to his wrist, Yu Zhu leaned against the wall, hauling himself upright.

He tugged with all his strength, but the shackle still clung stubbornly to his wrist.

Crack!

The sound vanished into the firestorm.

Blood streamed from his left wrist, torn raw.

His arm fell limp at his side.

Freed from the chain, he pressed the wide sleeve of his red robe over his mouth and nose, stumbling through the flames into the washroom.

The doorknob seared hot, smoke seeping through every crack.

Yu Zhu slid into the icy bathtub.

The crimson ruqun clung heavy as lead once drenched, water rippling above his head.

His right hand barely managed to grasp the edge of the tub.

“Splash—”

“Cough… cough…”

He burst up from the water.

Outside, the basement was a sea of flames, smoke billowing.

Disheveled, eyes lowered, face blank, he walked out.

In C City, it had rained nearly two hours that morning.

With snow falling later, the roads froze with a thin glaze of ice.

From afternoon onward, phones buzzed with warnings of congestion and accidents across every major route, urging drivers to travel cautiously.

By midnight, fine snow fell thick.

Before a villa on the outskirts, scattered lights gleamed faintly.

A square-faced middle-aged driver shut off the news broadcast on his phone, tugged on his white gloves, and stood respectfully at the door.

Upstairs, footsteps descended.

The lights clicked off.

Voices murmured behind the door, but no one emerged for a long time.

The snow fell harder, the wind like blades slicing the skin.

The driver checked his watch—it was already one in the morning.

The young lady’s original plan had been to pay New Year visits to C City’s business partners and branch family, then catch the earliest flight back to the Imperial Capital.

But because of the weather, even the earliest flight had been delayed to two a.m.

By the time they reached the main household, it would already be morning.

Age made the late hours harder to endure.

Shivering in the cold wind, the driver muttered inwardly.

This assignment to C City for the young lady—whether it was good or bad, who could say?

Creak—

The heavy gates swung open, spilling lamplight onto the snow.

The driver snapped out of his thoughts and hurried forward.

“Young Miss.”

A tall, elegant woman stood before him.

Her high nose bridge and soft, luminous eyes were framed by long lashes, tempering the severity of her bearing with warmth.

Silken black hair cascaded over her shoulders, faintly curled at the ends.

Gold earrings swayed lightly at her ears.

She wore a sharp-cut black suit over a skirt and stockings, the restrained luxury laced with languid allure.

“Time is nearly up. Let’s go.”

A black umbrella opened above her head.

Ruan Suhua’s red lips parted as she walked gracefully to the car.

“Yes, Miss.”

The driver opened the door.

She stepped inside.

The maid closed the umbrella, bowing neatly with the other servants lined at the villa’s entrance.

They only rose once the car vanished into the snowy night.

Leaning back against the soft seat, Ruan Suhua, for once, did not check her company emails.

Eyes closed, she tapped her fingers idly against the armrest.

Not long after the car pulled out of the villa district, it slowed, then stopped at the roadside.

Before the driver spoke, Ruan Suhua’s fingers stilled.

Her eyes opened.

Ahead, a villa blazed in flames.

The inferno lit the night sky, heat surging even from afar.

“Young Miss, should we call the fire department?”

The driver’s voice trembled—the firelight had turned the entire car interior scarlet.

Ruan Suhua sat upright.

“So big a fire…”

Her words trailed off.

Her gaze fixed on something within the blaze.

The driver followed her line of sight—and was struck dumb.

Through the sea of fire, someone staggered step by step outward.

A girl?

No words could describe the sight.

Yu Zhu wore an opulent crimson ruqun, long black hair cascading like ink.

His slender frame seemed all the frailer for the palace sash binding him.

The firelight cast his pale face in shifting shadows—stunningly, hauntingly beautiful.

One wrist hung at his side, blood dripping to the ground.

His other hand covered his right eye, flecked with crimson.

Even the short distance he walked was faltering, unsteady.

Sparks danced around him, the fire raging behind—an image torn out of time itself, as though he had walked through a burning city of the past to arrive here.

“I’ll go check. You call emergency services.”

Ruan Suhua stepped out without hesitation.

The driver snapped out of his daze, fumbling for his phone.

Snow fell, fire roared, smoke swirled.

Ruan Suhua reached the dazed youth, stripped off her coat, and wrapped it around him tightly.

His vision blurred.

His ears rang with silence.

His body burned and froze all at once.

In the instant before he lost consciousness, Yu Zhu dimly felt someone holding him close.

‘Has someone… come to take me home?’

‘Dad, Mom… this year… I’m going home…’

‘Home…’

Ruan Suhua drew him close, shielding his heat with her coat.

Adjusting her hold, she cradled him in her arms.

“Young Miss, allow me—”

The driver rushed over after calling emergency.

“No need. I’ve got him.”

“Then, should we call a hospital? Zhang Ying is still at the villa—we could send him there quickly, so you won’t miss your flight.”

“Too troublesome. I’ll take him myself. A few hours won’t matter. Inform the main family—have the household doctor ready when we land.”

“Yes, Miss. I’ll arrange it now.”

Lowering her gaze, Ruan Suhua looked at the boy in her arms.

His pallor, steeped in death’s shadow, stunned her.

Her grip tightened involuntarily, as if to hold onto something slipping away.

Softly, almost to herself, she whispered:

“Yu Zhu.”

“So it was today.”

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