She had no idea how long she’d been trapped in the darkness—maybe a long while, maybe just a few minutes.
Cecilia Ye was freezing all over, cold sweat breaking out on skin fresh from the shower.
The cramped room under the stairs from her childhood felt as small as ever, so tight she could barely breathe pressed up against the wall. Sideways, with her back to the cold plaster, it was like being wedged in a crack, unable to move.
No light. No one cared whether she cried. But Cecilia Ye didn’t dare make a sound—for crying only meant another beating.
The blackness felt like some ferocious beast, lurking, waiting to pounce.
Her knees went numb from crouching so long. She bit her lip, steadying her breath, about to reach out for the door—when a loud bang came from downstairs.
The tears brimming in her eyes finally spilled over, and she couldn’t hold back a strangled little sob.
Fu Zhiyie kicked open the little back door, paying no mind to his numbed legs as he squeezed inside.
The lights in the living room, bright only moments before, had all gone out. Only a faint, dusky glow slipped in through the tall windows. He ran up the stairs in a few long strides, heading the way he’d glimpsed from outside.
His voice rang out, thick with worry and urgency. "Cecilia!"
The first time she heard the voice, Cecilia Ye thought it was just her imagination—until the familiar tone called her again.
"Cecilia! Where are you?"
"I’m here..."
Her voice was tiny, shaking, as she lifted a trembling hand to pound on the door.
Hearing that, Fu Zhiyie moved towards her quickly, knocking over a dining chair with a crash, not caring at all.
A soft tapping came from outside the door. "Cecilia, don’t be scared. Open the door."
Cecilia Ye couldn’t deny that, in this moment, Fu Zhiyie’s voice filled her with a profound sense of safety.
He’d been watching the second floor the moment the lights blinked out—his chest tightening with fear.
Cecilia had always been afraid of the dark. She’d been scared as a child, only made worse after what happened last time.
Just imagining how frightened she must be right now in the darkness, he hadn’t hesitated for a second before charging upstairs.
All he could feel at this moment was relief that he’d come at all....
With a soft click, the bathroom door swung open, a voice thick with tears shakily called, "Fu Zhiyie, is that you...?"
He pressed close to the door, soothing and gentle, "It’s me, don’t be afraid. I’m coming in—don’t stand behind the door."
The door opened just wide enough for him to squeeze through. She was huddled, hugging her knees, sitting on the chilly floor.
"Cecilia..."
Fu Zhiyie murmured her name, agony twisting in his chest.
He knelt down and gathered Cecilia Ye into his arms.
Her petite frame trembled against him, wet hair limp and tangled down her back.
A wave of calm washed over Cecilia Ye’s heart.
It had been six years—six years living together, under his protection.
She knew his embrace too well, had once been hopelessly attached to it.
Cecilia Ye had to admit, in the moment Fu Zhiyie’s voice reached her, all her fear scattered into nothing.
The smothering, suffocating memories faded from her mind.
"Fu... Zhiyie," she whispered, clutching his jacket tight, letting him gently pat her back.
"It’s me. I’m here. Don’t be afraid, Cecilia." His reassuring voice soothed her again and again, boundless with patience.
Her shivering made Fu Zhiyie feel as if needles pricked his heart. If only he’d gone to her sooner—if he'd rushed to her the moment she called him for help, maybe she wouldn't have been so badly frightened by Theodore Zane.
Regret clawed at him, knotting his brows with guilt.
Any warmth from the earlier shower had long since dissipated; now it was only wet and cold.
He’d already wrapped Cecilia Ye up in his jacket, but they couldn’t stay here forever.
With one arm still around her, Fu Zhiyie fished his phone out of his pocket.
The flashlight blinked on, and as he glanced down, he caught her tear-bright, doe-like eyes peeking up at him.
His heart gave a painful jolt. He wiped away her tears. "Don’t be afraid. Let’s get out of here."
His rough palm brushed her cheek. Cecilia Ye was still sniffling.
She hadn’t looked at Fu Zhiyie from this close in so long, yet every detail still felt achingly familiar.
The chiseled bridge of his nose. The cool cut of his jawline. The prominent Adam’s apple at his throat.
His face still bore fading traces from a recent fight—she’d never seen Fu Zhiyie so disheveled.
Bathed in the cold white of the phone’s flashlight, Cecilia Ye lowered her gaze.
"Mm."
He shoved the phone into her hands and tucked his jacket more snugly around her, then bent down and lifted her in his arms.
"Be good. Shine the light for me."
Worried she’d slip, Fu Zhiyie walked with extra care.
Obediently, Cecilia Ye aimed the phone’s beam to guide him; the dining chair still lay overturned on the floor, and Fu Zhiyie carefully stepped around it.
He carried Cecilia Ye back to her room, setting her gently down on the bed. Only the weak glow from the phone lit the room. Fu Zhiyie crouched before her, checking her small hands and feet for injuries.
"You aren’t hurt, are you?"
The concern in his eyes was so dense it nearly overflowed, and Cecilia Ye was momentarily dazed just looking at him.
Only when Fu Zhiyie cocked an eyebrow, waiting for her answer, did she snap out of it.
"No, I’m not hurt," she said softly, staring at her fingertips rather than meet his eyes.
Fu Zhiyie exhaled in relief, tension melting from his posture.
With no power, there wasn’t much they could do; her hair was still damp, and she’d have to change clothes. He needed to check the breaker downstairs.
"Where’s your phone? Turn it on and hold it here. I’m going to check the electrical box."
He turned to find Cecilia Ye’s phone sitting on the table, switched it on and handed it to her.
Just as he was about to leave, his sleeve was grabbed, and Cecilia Ye looked up, porcelain teeth biting her lip as she tried—unsuccessfully—to hide her fear.
Fu Zhiyie knelt down again, reprimanding himself for being so thoughtless—of course Cecilia was still afraid.
His long limbs made him look a bit awkward squatting by the bed, but he took her hand in his.
"Then come with me downstairs. We’ll come back up together, alright?"
Every word was gentle and careful; Fu Zhiyie squeezed her hand, waiting for her answer.
"Okay."
Cecilia Ye nodded. She still felt shaken and didn’t dare be left alone.
Just as she was about to get off the bed, she was swept up again. "You’re barefoot—I’ll carry you."
Her slippers were still in the bathroom, and Cecilia Ye’s feet were bare.
Fu Zhiyie held her securely as he carried her out of the room and down the wooden spiral staircase. Cecilia Ye, scared of falling, threw her arms tight around his neck.
"Fu Zhiyie, slow down..."
He couldn’t help but chuckle. With how light she was, how could he possibly drop her?
"Alright, I won’t let you fall."
He walked slow and steady, and Cecilia Ye finally relaxed.
They reached the main hall. Cecilia Ye shone the phone’s light for him towards the electrical box by the back door, hidden behind a small oil painting.
He set her down on the chair beside him, then reached to take down the painting.
Holding her phone up with her small hands to shine a bright beam on the wall, Cecilia Ye worried aloud, "Fu Zhiyie, do you know how to fix it? There’s electricity..."
"Mm." Though he’d never done it before, it looked like a pretty simple fuse box—even just looking at it, he could probably figure it out.
"Do we have a toolbox?"
Cecilia Ye thought a moment, then pointed to the corner. "In the cabinet over there."
Following the phone’s light, Fu Zhiyie bent down and found the toolbox, glancing back at Cecilia Ye.
She sat on a high bar stool by the tea station, her slender legs swinging beneath her nightgown, tiny feet dangling in his jacket.
Their eyes met briefly, and Cecilia Ye quickly looked away, turning to face the window.
It was only an accident tonight—don’t overthink it...