The next day, Xia Chuan’s life remained as “steamy” as yesterday’s.

“Xia Chuan, I’m heading out.”

After feeding him breakfast, Mo Yao leaned close to whisper her goodbye to him—still tightly bound in ropes. Her cheeks flushed slightly under the sunlight, her lips curving into a gentle smile. It was hard for Xia Chuan to reconcile this girl with the desperate, broken soul he’d first met.

Muffled by the cloth stuffed in his mouth, Xia Chuan could only watch the dark doorway slowly close, plunging the room back into silence and shadow.

As Mo Yao’s footsteps faded down the hall, Xia Chuan finally began his escape plan.

He knew shouting for help would ruin Mo Yao’s life. Since that easy option was off the table, he had no choice but to save himself.

Ropes coiled tightly around his body and the wooden chair, pinning him down. Mo Yao had clearly gone to great lengths to keep him from running. Only his hands could move freely—bound together at the wrists, but loosely compared to the rest. That was his only hope.

If his feet could touch the floor, he might inch the chair forward. His goal: find something sharp to cut the ropes. But in a girl’s room? A blade was unlikely. And even if one existed, reaching it seemed impossible.

His only option was to fray the ropes against furniture edges. Too weak to stand, he aimed for a low table.

He lifted his toes, dragging the chair slowly toward it. Turning the chair backward, he pressed the rope against the table’s edge and began to rub.

The edge was duller than he’d hoped. After minutes of grinding, his wrists felt no looser.

No better plan existed. So he kept rubbing against that useless, blunt edge.

The effort was exhausting. He’d work for a while, then rest.

Two hours passed. The ropes held firm.

His “rescue plan” was failing. But it was all he had. He couldn’t stay here—he was officially “missing.” Mo Yao wouldn’t have called in sick for him at school. He couldn’t let Liu Yixia worry.

Gritting his teeth, he rubbed faster.

*He had to escape. End this farce.*

*Yes. Leaving was the only right choice.*

But then, Mo Yao’s tearful whisper from yesterday morning echoed in his mind:

*“If I don’t tie you up… you’ll leave me forever. You will…”*

*“But like this… you’ll stay with me, right?”*

A faint ache tightened Xia Chuan’s chest. His rubbing slowed without him realizing.

He wanted to leave. Absolutely.

But… should he leave *now*?

Sunlight slipped through the curtain gap, painting a bright spot on his cheek. His dazed expression was stark in the quiet room.

Days blurred into repetition. Each morning mirrored the last.

Xia Chuan abandoned his rope-fraying plan—it was too slow. He believed water wears away stone, but he couldn’t wait until everything changed beyond recognition.

He needed a new idea.

Routine settled in. Mo Yao’s intimate feeding made his heart race, but everything else grew dull.

Strangely, his urge to escape weakened with time.

Maybe it wasn’t just time dulling his will. Maybe it was pity for that lonely girl.

Bound day and night, he’d lost all sense of time. He didn’t even know how many days he’d been trapped.

Truth was, things were getting bad. If this continued, shouting for help might be his only option.

Just as his hope dimmed, a turning point came.

—

One day, Xia Chuan stared blankly at the dark room.

Suddenly, hurried footsteps approached from the hall. They stopped right outside the door.

*Mo Yao?*

He watched the closed door.

Then—knocking. But not on Mo Yao’s door.

On *his* door.

Xia Chuan froze. That urgent rhythm painted a clear picture: a face tight with worry.

A familiar voice cut through the silence, making his heart tremble:

“Xia Chuan! Are you there? It’s Liu Yixia! Answer me if you can hear this! Xia Chuan…”

That voice felt like a lifetime away.

*Yixia…*

Hearing it jolted his foggy mind awake. He threw his weight forward, dragging the chair toward the door.

He didn’t care what happened to Mo Yao anymore. He just needed to see Liu Yixia.

He strained with every ounce of strength. Each shuffle covered mere inches.

With every move, Liu Yixia’s calls grew fainter. She was giving up.

He knew she’d leave in seconds.

He pushed harder.

But bound tight, even crawling was agony. Speed was impossible.

Predictably, when he was still two meters from the door, her whisper reached him:

“Xia Chuan… where did you go…”

He heard the worry thick in her voice.

*Yes. She’s the only one who’d care if I vanished.*

*Yixia! I’m here! I’m right here!*

He screamed inside his head. But thoughts don’t carry through doors. He could only listen as her footsteps faded down the hall.

Silence swallowed the room again.

Xia Chuan stared at the shut door, numb.

A warm breeze slipped through the curtain gap, brushing his neck. It snapped him back to reality.

*So someone… does worry about me.*

He’d stayed partly out of pity for Mo Yao’s loneliness. Partly out of giving up.

At school, Liu Yixia was his only real friend. Sometimes he wondered: if he died alone at home, would anyone notice?

*Maybe… I’m not so different from Mo Yao.*

But…

When he’d believed no one cared, Liu Yixia came.

*So someone does care.*

*So someone sees I exist.*

Some might say Mo Yao cares too. But Xia Chuan knew the truth: she didn’t care about *him*. She clung to the person who’d helped her—the role anyone could fill.

Liu Yixia was different. She cared because he was Xia Chuan. Her childhood friend.

He gazed around the dark room, lost.

*It’s time… to end this. Time to go back.*

This was always just a farce.

He shouldn’t have pitied Mo Yao. Her reasons didn’t matter—she’d imprisoned him.

His days of worrying about her consequences? Pathetic.

*Yes. She trapped me. Why did I care what happened to her after?*

*Time to end this.*

He dragged the chair toward the door.

When he was less than a meter away, he stopped.

He turned the chair backward, pressing it against the door. Then he threw his weight back.

*CRASH!*

The wooden chair slammed into the door.

He rocked violently, using his body and feet to kick. *Thud. Thud. Thud.* Grunts escaped his throat. He wasn’t worried about being heard—this apartment block was full of families. Housewives were home at this hour.

He didn’t care how the neighbors would judge Mo Yao now. He just needed out.

Finally, after over ten minutes of pounding, the landlord and a group of housewives broke in and freed him.