Lin An didn't sleep. Not even after Shen Wei closed the door and left. The silence that followed felt heavier than before, pressing down on her chest until even breathing seemed too loud. She lay still beneath the covers, eyes open, listening, but there was nothing—no footsteps, no movement, as if he had never been there at all.
Morning came too quickly. Sunlight slipped through the curtains, soft and indifferent, as if the night hadn't happened. Lin An sat up slowly, her body stiff, her mind already replaying everything from the moment she heard those footsteps. He said he heard something. A lie—or worse, an excuse.
By the time she came downstairs, Shen Wei was already seated at the dining table, calm and composed as if nothing could disturb him. A cup of coffee rested in front of him, steam rising faintly in the air. He didn't look up when she approached.
"You wake up early," Lin An said casually.
"I always do."
She pulled out the chair across from him and sat down. For a moment, neither of them spoke. The quiet stretched.
"You were outside my room last night," she said.
Shen Wei lifted his cup, taking a slow sip before setting it down. "I told you. I heard something."
Lin An watched him carefully, studying every movement, every shift in expression, but there was nothing—no tension, no sign of being caught. Too clean.
"And what did you hear?" she pressed.
"Movement."
"That's vague."
Shen Wei finally looked at her, his gaze steady. "You were awake."
It wasn't a question.
Lin An didn't deny it. "So were you."
Something invisible passed between them, a silent acknowledgment that neither of them believed the other.
"Do you often investigate your husband in the middle of the night?" he asked.
The word husband lingered in the air, strange and heavy.
"Only when I think he might kill me," she replied.
For the first time, Shen Wei smiled—not warmly, not kindly, but like something had finally become interesting. "That's a serious accusation."
"I'm a serious person."
Their eyes locked. Neither looked away.
"Then tell me," he said quietly, "why do you think I would kill you?"
Lin An hesitated for only a moment. She should lie. She knew she should. But something about the way he looked at her made lying feel pointless.
"Because I've seen it."
The words fell between them, heavy and undeniable.
"Seen what?" he asked.
"My death."
Silence followed.
Lin An reached into her pocket and placed her phone on the table. Her fingers hovered for a second before pressing play. This time, she didn't look at the screen. She watched him.
The video played—the same breathing, the same fear, the same ending—but Shen Wei's expression didn't change. Not once.
When it ended, he glanced at the screen, then back at her. "A convincing fabrication."
"You don't believe me."
"No."
The answer came too easily.
"And yet," she said softly, "you agreed to marry me."
He leaned back slightly, his gaze still on her. "You're interesting."
That wasn't an answer.
"Is that enough to risk your life?" she asked.
"Is it yours?"
Her breath caught for just a fraction of a second. Three days. She only had three days.
"I don't have a choice."
"Everyone has a choice."
"Not when the ending is already decided."
The words slipped out before she could stop them.
Shen Wei went still. For the first time, truly still.
"Who told you that?" he asked quietly.
"What?"
"That the ending is decided."
His voice had changed—lower, sharper.
"I saw it," she said again.
A long silence followed.
Then Shen Wei stood. The sudden movement made her tense instinctively.
"Come with me."
"Where?"
"You'll see."
Something about his tone left no room for refusal. After a brief pause, she stood and followed him through the house, past the living room, toward a door she hadn't noticed before. It was locked.
He took out a key, unlocked it, and opened the door. "Inside."
Lin An hesitated for only a second before stepping in. The room was dark, cooler than the rest of the house. As her eyes adjusted, shapes began to form—shelves, stacks, boxes, documents, photos, files.
"What is this?" she asked quietly.
Shen Wei stepped in behind her and closed the door. "A place where things are kept."
"That doesn't answer my question."
"No," he said calmly. "It doesn't."
She turned to face him. "Then answer it."
For a moment, he said nothing. Then his gaze sharpened.
"Tell me something first. In your future… am I the only one in the room?"
Lin An froze. Her mind snapped back to the video—frame by frame, second by second. The knife. The ring. The shadow—
Her breath caught.
There had been someone else.
"…No," she whispered.
Silence fell.
Shen Wei didn't react, but something in the air shifted.
"You're asking the wrong question," he said quietly.
Lin An's chest tightened. "What do you mean?"
"You shouldn't be asking whether I'll kill you."
A pause.
"You should be asking—who else wants you dead."