Chen Dao had never been confident in his ability to find people or things.

It wasn’t boasting—back in college during an orienteering event, he’d gotten lost.

So riding the bus to Beisha Bay, he couldn’t be sure Xia Jiuli would actually be there.

All day, he’d searched within his bicycle’s maximum range—no food, nonstop effort—only to end up empty-handed.

Zhao Lexuan had found the missing person notice; it was posted last night, and she spotted it while checking news at noon.

He also received Xia Jiuli’s photo and background details.

Zhao Lexuan seemed hesitant, like she had something to say but held back. In the end, she gave Chen Dao the contact from the notice: Xia Jiuli’s aunt’s number.

She added softly, “Stay safe.”

Now, he was heading toward the coast.

Beisha Bay—the only seaside spot in Xinchi—was free year-round, though parking cost money and prices inside were higher. Still, the view was genuinely lovely.

When Chen Dao first moved to Xinchi, he’d visited with his parents and saw Zhao Lexuan working a summer job before school started.

Back then, he didn’t know her and barely noticed her.

Who knew they’d end up in the same class? Truly fate.

Yesterday, after getting her number, Chen Dao asked Zhao Lexuan’s relative to watch for a very beautiful girl heading alone to the seaside today.

He didn’t expect much help, but it was off-season. Few visitors came—if a striking girl showed up, they wouldn’t miss her.

At exactly 6 p.m., the relative messaged: a pretty girl had eaten, then walked to the shore in a down jacket. That’s why Chen Dao rushed here.

He bought a pack of Furong Wang cigarettes, Da Hongpao tea, and two hand warmers.

He didn’t smoke—it was just a small token for Zhao Lexuan’s relative.

The bus ride from downtown still took thirty minutes.

He’d been searching since yesterday. Exactly twenty-four hours. No sleep.

Nights: checking hotels. Days: asking restaurants. As long as Xia Jiuli was human, she couldn’t go without food, water, or rest.

Of course… there was also the possibility she was already gone.

But Chen Dao didn’t care: *Alive, I must see her; dead, I must see her while she’s still warm—no, wait! Dead, I must see the body.*

At this critical moment, he didn’t idle. He pulled out his phone and dialed Xia Jiuli’s aunt.

After a few beeps, the line connected. A hoarse female voice answered:

“Hello?”

“Auntie! I thought you were still busy!”

“Huh?”

A startled, utterly bewildered “Huh?”—clearly unprepared for such instant familiarity.

“Who is this?”

She didn’t hang up. Desperate to know how Xia Jiuli, who’d been home just two days ago, could vanish so completely. Even if this was a cruel prank, she had to listen.

“Me? You forgot? I’m Li Hua—from Xia Jiuli’s school!”

“Uh… Oh, Student Li?”

She strained to recall the name, but nothing came.

“Auntie, I’m calling to ask—any news on Xia Jiuli? Our whole class is worried.”

Chen Dao wasn’t new to lying.

Though not entirely false—if some school in Xiangzhou *did* have a Li Hua, they’d surely worry, right?

“To be honest, I’ve thought about suicide too. Hearing about Xia… I feel she must be carrying pain no one sees. And Auntie… you must be under so much pressure…”

He didn’t let her reply, pouring out his rehearsed words with quiet sincerity.

“My family faced endless pressure back then too. So I know you’re exhausted. But please don’t worry—Xia is smart. She won’t come to harm.”

He wasn’t faking it. He *had* tried, in another life, to untie Xia Jiuli’s knots.

It was just that last life left him ragged and barely surviving.

“I see… Thank you… Thank you…”

Suddenly, her composure shattered into choked sobs. Her hoarse voice, already hard to decipher, now carried raw grief piercing through the static.

These days, Xia Jiuli suffered. So did Xia Baixiao.

Though she was the girl’s aunt, she couldn’t watch her every second. Even after quitting work to stay home, Xia Jiuli found a moment to attempt hanging.

If she hadn’t returned from grocery shopping in time… Xia Jiuli might already be at the morgue.

Yet she faced blame from all sides.

Others did nothing—but pointed fingers at the one who tried hardest, saying *she* wasn’t enough.

Xia Jiuli’s mother—Xia Baixiao’s elder sister—was gone. The younger sister grieved deeply too, but as an adult, she could never show weakness, especially before Xia Jiuli.

But the day before yesterday… just stepping into the kitchen to cook…

Xia Jiuli vanished.

Right under her eyes.

Even reviewing every nearby camera yielded zero clues. Xia Jiuli had simply evaporated.

Helpless. Drained. So a single empathetic sentence from “Li Hua” gave her battered heart its first breath in a week.

“This child cried easily since little… so little security… but… but how could she disappear! What if something happened! Waaah…”

As sobs swelled and a man’s voice called out from the other end, Chen Dao knew it was time.

“It’s okay, Auntie. Jiuli will be fine. I promise—we’ll find her soon.”

“Huh? Are you—”

He hung up and blocked the number.

Far away in Xiangzhou, at Xia Baixiao’s home, a disheveled woman scratched her raw forehead, staring at the disconnected out-of-province call, deep in thought.

She immediately called Xia Jiuli’s high school—only to discover, to her shock, no student named Li Hua existed.