The car drove on, Mu Yue Ran carrying Yuchuge to the back seat. To avoid surveillance cameras along the way, they finally made it back to Mu Yue Ran’s apartment without major incident.

After parking, Mu Yue Ran gathered her things and got out. When Yuchuge didn’t follow after a long wait, she circled back to the rear door. Opening it, she found Yuchuge sitting perfectly still in her seat. With a sigh, Mu Yue Ran said, “Time to get out, Miss.”

Yuchuge turned to look at her, blinking slowly, but didn’t move. Helpless, Mu Yue Ran took her small hand and gently led her out of the car.

Standing on unfamiliar ground, Yuchuge stared blankly at the concrete beneath her feet—a shade she’d never seen before. She pressed down lightly, stomping once. The solid resistance confirmed this wasn’t the Xu family’s villa, where plush carpets swallowed every step.

Mu Yue Ran shrugged off her jacket and draped it over Yuchuge’s head like a hood. Patting her head, she said reassuringly, “Gotta avoid all cameras. Your family’s... *too* wealthy.”

Yuchuge kept her gaze lowered, seemingly still studying the ground. As Mu Yue Ran guided her forward, she stumbled every few steps, unaccustomed to walking on hard pavement.

Inside Mu Yue Ran’s apartment, Yuchuge froze at the doorway, stunned by the interior.

*So small.*

Not judgmentally—just unexpectedly. The kidnapper’s hideout was cozier than she’d imagined. She’d pictured a dim underground warehouse or a remote forest cabin. Instead, warm lamplight spilled over a tidy little apartment.

This wasn’t like the kidnappers in movies. And this woman was far prettier than any of them.

Mu Yue Ran settled Yuchuge on the sofa, placing water and snacks within reach. She turned on the TV and set the remote beside her.

“I’m taking a shower. Watch TV for now. Snacks are there if you’re hungry.”

“Don’t look at me like that—I can’t cook. The chef of this house is at cram school.”

Mu Yue Ran rubbed her stomach, avoiding Yuchuge’s gaze. Her cooking *was* terrible. She was also grateful Ji Yueyi was away at boarding prep school; otherwise, explaining Yuchuge’s sudden presence would’ve been impossible.

Glancing back three times, Mu Yue Ran finally entered the bathroom. Certain Yuchuge wouldn’t run, she locked the door—a habit born from a shy roommate who’d barged in during showers to scrub her “thoroughly.” That same roommate also sleepwalked into her bed nightly.

Mu Yue Ran dipped a pale foot into the bathwater. Perfect temperature. She sank in, letting warmth melt away the night’s exhaustion.

Pushing wet strands from her face, she leaned back against the tub, staring at the ceiling. Even in this quiet moment, her mind raced ahead.

It hadn’t gone exactly as planned, but she’d still stolen the House of Yu’s most precious treasure.

What would’ve happened if Yuchuge stayed? Mu Yue Ran knew.

In one month: Yuchuge’s engagement banquet with Li Feng.

In three: At eighteen, Yuchuge would leave the House of Yu’s gates for the first time—on her wedding day.

A year later: Li Feng would expand his empire using the Yu family’s influence. Their businesses would flourish. Everyone would get what they wanted. Except the girl who sacrificed her life to make it happen. Forgotten.

Then, on a winter night after the Yu family’s ruin, a skeletal figure would be thrown out of the Li mansion. Dressed in thin rags, she’d wander the frozen streets—her first and only glimpse of the world beyond those gates.

Mu Yue Ran would follow silently, watching bloody footprints bloom in the snow. She’d reach out to pull Yuchuge home, to hold her warm—but her hands passed through like mist. She was only a phantom here, unable to touch the Yuchuge of memory.

She could only watch as Yuchuge collapsed beneath a park tree. Her eyes, hollow and distant, fixed on the snow-dusted lake. Flakes settled on her hair, merging with silver strands without melting.

“So beautiful…”

Yuchuge’s voice remained ethereal, like celestial music. Mu Yue Ran knelt before her, locking eyes. She didn’t know if Yuchuge meant her, the lake, or something else.

But in that moment, Yuchuge was finally *herself*. A puppet freed from strings, seeing the world with her own eyes—and praising a beauty she’d never known.

The sunset’s glow had come too late. Too late for a life already ending.

Mu Yue Ran watched as Yuchuge gathered a small, stiff bird into her arms—its wings frozen mid-flight. She didn’t know it was dead. She only wanted her own cold body to thaw its wings.

*Fly, my dear bird.*

*Fly for the wingless me. See the earth for the blindfolded me.*

*Who am I?*

*I am a bird too. Blindfolded. Wingless.*

Mu Yue Ran knelt, pulling Yuchuge’s body close. This time, she could touch her. She wrapped her jacket around the girl’s shoulders, brushing snow from her brow. Softly, she whispered: “I’ll be right back. Wait for me.”

Mu Yue Ran jolted awake in the bathtub, water sloshing as she sat up. Dripping, she bolted out of the bathroom, panic sharpening her eyes as she scanned the living room.

Yuchuge sat exactly where she’d left her, utterly absorbed by the TV screen.

Mu Yue Ran smiled. A real, relieved smile.

*Good. Just a dream.*