Bạch Lan stared blankly out the window at the light drizzle falling beyond the glass. The heavy, humid air of summer seemed to cling to her skin—and to her thoughts. Just yesterday, her workload had been light. But today, it piled up like a mountain.
She gently rolled her shoulders and rubbed the aching spot near her neck, stiff from sitting too long at her desk. The spacious office was now deserted, the chatter and footsteps of coworkers long gone. Only silence remained—cold, vast, and oddly hollow. Pale fluorescent light spilled onto the tiled floor, casting a wavering play of light and shadow like ripples on water. Outside, the wind tapped softly against the windowpane, as if calling her from someplace far away.
She carefully stacked the documents on her desk, slung her bag over her shoulder, and walked slowly toward the door. The sound of her heels echoed—sharp and solitary—against the empty hallway, blending with the dim silence like whispers from a distant past.
With each step, something stirred faintly inside her, as though a memory was rising from the depths—unclear, heavy, and strangely tired.
"Tiểu Bạch... Tiểu Bạch..."
The familiar voice echoed, distant yet haunting—like it had risen from the depths of the earth and slipped through the cracks of forgotten memories. It made her shiver.
Bạch Lan quickened her pace, hurrying toward the elevator as if trying to escape something unseen that clung to her every step. A chill crept down her spine, sharp and sudden.
Ding.
The elevator chimed. Its doors slid open slowly. She squinted into the cabin empty.
"That's strange... Why did it stop on this floor?"
Suddenly, a deep, cold voice whispered right beside her ear:
"Who are you looking for?"
She jumped and spun around, her heart leaping into her throat.
Standing before her was a tall figure. The overhead light cast down from the ceiling, illuminating the calm, expressionless face of Trạch Đông. His deep black eyes were unreadable—no ripple, no hint of emotion—just a gaze that made it impossible to guess what he might be thinking.
"Y-You… you're human?" she stammered.
He tilted his head slightly, the corner of his mouth lifting in a faint smirk.
"Are you implying I'm not?"
Bạch Lan froze, her body stiffening. Embarrassment mingled with fear, flooding her chest like a cold tide.
"You do realize," he said, his voice icy, "spreading ghost stories in the company can be taken very seriously."
His eyes never left hers.
She blinked rapidly, too stunned to respond. But then a thought struck her like lightning.
That voice. That silhouette…
It was him!
The insufferable CEO who had docked her pay on her first day.
"Had enough staring? Or should I turn around a few times so you can get a better look?"
His voice was tinged with sarcasm.
Bạch Lan flushed scarlet, immediately turning her face away. Her gaze dropped as she stood stiffly, like a student awaiting punishment. The outburst she'd just made now felt painfully embarrassing.
But to her surprise, he let out a quiet chuckle—a vague, distant kind of laugh, cold and thin like a wisp of cigarette smoke drifting through the air: fleeting yet lingering.
The elevator doors slid open. He stepped in without another glance, leaving only a parting remark:
"Don't wander around alone at this hour."
His voice, cool and detached, somehow sent a tremor through her chest.
She stood there, watching as his figure disappeared behind the closing doors, a swirl of unnamed emotions rising in her mind like mist after rain.
Bạch Lan hurried through the rain.
Each raindrop landed heavily on her shoulders, soaking through her blouse and seeping into the growing sense of weariness within her. She raised her hand, trying to hail a taxi, but every car sped past—indifferent and distant.
With a sigh, she nudged a few pebbles near her feet. The rain dripped rhythmically from the leaves above, each drop seeming to pierce straight through her thoughts.
And then, the image of the man from her dream returned.
No face. No name.
Only a feeling.
***
The rain poured relentlessly.
Outside, the tattered eaves offered little shelter as each drop fell like a fragment of a shattered soul—grief cascading from the heavens, heavy and unending.
She knelt beside the blood-soaked body, her trembling hands holding the dying man. The blood stained the once neat, elegant white shirt. The wind howled through every crack in the door, freezing the heart.
"No… no… this can't be happening… Doctor!"
She screamed like someone losing her mind, clutching the hem of the man's robe as he hastily packed up his medicine chest.
"I beg you… please save him! Please, I'm begging you!"
The middle-aged physician shook his head, his eyes reflecting a hint of sorrow.
"Miss Bạch… your husband has been gravely ill since birth. Now, with such severe injuries, his internal organs are beyond saving… I fear his fate has already been sealed."
He gently patted her shoulder and added quietly,
"I won't accept any silver. Please… keep it and prepare for… the funeral."
She cried out in despair, her voice hoarse and broken:
"No! This can't be! Heavens! Are you punishing us? All we ever wanted was a peaceful life… Why?"
The rain poured harder, wind howling through the cracks as the door slammed open, lashing against the two of them like icy blades.
In that moment of utter hopelessness, a thought flashed through her mind. She bent down, pressing her lips to his, and began to pour into him the spiritual energy she had cultivated over hundreds of years.
A stream of warm force surged from her chest into his dying body. The sky darkened instantly. The wind roared louder, swirling madly around them in tightening circles.
His tightly shut eyes fluttered open. Just as she gasped in relief, Trạch Hiên suddenly reached up and gripped the back of her neck—firmer than ever before—holding her lips to his with a force that surprised her.
Her spiritual energy gushed out even faster.
Just then, a furious voice thundered through the storm:
"Are you insane?! You only have one life—if you give up half your spiritual energy, you'll be left with barely half a soul! Is it worth it?!"
But he held her tightly, refusing to let go. Her body began to tremble, a strange weakness seeping into her limbs—as if something vital was being drained away.
And then, slowly, his grip loosened. Trạch Hiên whispered hoarsely:
"Tiểu Bạch… I'm alright now…"
***
"Screech!!!"
The BMW came to a sudden halt right in front of her, snapping her out of the trance. Her heart was still pounding. The rain hadn't let up.
The passenger door swung open. A sharply dressed young man leaned over, polite and composed.
"Miss, please get in."
She blinked, her voice hoarse:
"Are you... talking to me?"
The man nodded. Then, from the back seat, a familiar voice rang out:
"Who else would I be talking to? Get in."
Trạch Đông.
She didn't need a second glance to know who it was. His gaze remained cool and distant, yet somehow, it didn't unsettle her—in fact, it felt oddly comforting.
Seeing her still standing there, Trạch Đông frowned and reminded her,
"Well? Get in."
The driver quickly stepped out and opened the door for her. After a moment of hesitation, she climbed into the car.
Silence filled the vehicle. To break the tension, the driver gave a nervous chuckle and asked,
"Sir, where to now?"
Trạch Đông leaned back against the seat, eyes closed, and replied softly,
"Ask her."
The driver turned politely toward her.
"Miss, may I ask where you live?"
But before she could answer, a voice from the back interrupted:
"Who said anything about going home? We're getting dinner. I'm hungry."
Bạch Lan turned to stare at him in disbelief, then looked at the driver. The two exchanged confused glances, neither saying a word. A second later, the driver gave a helpless smile, as if he'd seen this happen far too many times.
She crossed her arms and leaned against the window, shooting Trạch Đông a sideways glare.
"You told him to ask me. But in the end, you're still doing whatever you want. Unbelievable... So pushy."
Trạch Đông didn't respond. He simply tilted his head slightly, eyes half-closed, as if the world outside held no interest for him.
Streetlights swept past the car window, casting fleeting shadows across his face—composed, distant… and yet achingly familiar.
Bach Lan turned her gaze away, but her heart couldn't settle. That feeling crept in again—the sense that she had once sat like this beside him before. That everything between them hadn't just begun today… but somewhere far away, a very long time ago.
Neither of them said another word.
The car rolled forward through the rain.
And then she whispered—so softly, only she could hear it:
"What were we to each other… in another life, perhaps? Is there truly a thread that connects us?"