The night was thick and oppressive, the sky a solid sheet of black without a single star in sight.
A metallic crack echoed, followed by the dull sound of the railing crashing from the eighteenth floor, weaving together a haunting melody of death.
The climbing vines on the railing were pulled downward, dragging the flower pots with them and scraping the ground with a harsh noise, finally snapping Bo Jin back to his senses.
He was still in the act of holding the phone, but his pupils were dilated, his face stiff, and all traces of his earlier relaxed smile had vanished.
The night wind brushed past the wilting flower stems. Staring at the half-ruined railing, Bo Jin shuddered, realizing his back was drenched in cold sweat.
He had a habit of leaning against the balcony railing to smoke. If it hadn’t been for Xie Ruan’s call…
Bo Jin closed his eyes, fear creeping into his heart.
“What’s going on? What are you doing? Are you tearing down Wen’s balcony or what? Holy—”
Zhao Qin couldn’t help but curse, “What the h*ll happened here?” He grabbed Bo Jin’s arm, dragging him back a few steps while he looked him up and down with a hint of lingering fear. “You alright?”
Bo Jin took a deep breath, his heart still racing. “I’m fine.”
“Jesus, what kind of developer built this place?” Zhao Qin wouldn’t let go of Jin’s arm, whether out of shock or to steady himself. “Are they nuts? Cutting corners on the balcony construction? You could’ve—”
He clenched his jaw, unable to finish the sentence. Fear and anger shook his voice. “D*mn, these scumbags, they’d save money for their own graves.”
Turning to Wen Yong, he shouted, “Call the cops! Right now, file a report! If we don’t make them pay for this, I’m not Zhao Qin.”
Wen Yong stood by the sofa, his face darkened, staying silent since Zhao Qin spoke.
He didn’t understand why fate favored Bo Jin so heavily.
Both had come from orphanages, both had been abandoned by family, yet Bo Jin could effortlessly obtain everything he desired.
Good looks, a sharp mind, the affection of those around him, and even a lover who adored him. Besides family, it seemed fate had gifted him with everything.
Jealousy gnawed at Wen Yong’s heart like ants, leaving him no peace.
He had tried to reconcile with himself.
There were plenty of exceptional people in the world. There was no point envying them all, and Bo Jin was just one of them. And he himself was no slouch either.
Wealth, career success, the admiration and praise of others—all things he had once dreamed of were now his. What more could he want?
But it was no use.
Seeing Bo Jin, who had started from the same place, moving further and further ahead toward an inevitably bright future, he couldn’t accept it.
At first, he could hold back, only trading barbs. But slowly, it escalated into hidden schemes, and eventually…he just wanted Bo Jin gone.
It didn’t bother him if others succeeded. What tormented him was Bo Jin being ahead of him.
Without Bo Jin, he’d be the most successful among his peers. No one would ever call him a lesser version of Bo Jin in whispers.
Over time, that seed of jealousy and resentment grew, turning into a dark demon whispering constantly in his ear, making him disregard the friendship forged through hardship and make his final choice.
He knew Bo Jin well and had prepared every detail in advance. He even involved Zhao Qin to avoid police suspicion afterward—
The balcony railing broke on its own, either from developer shortcuts or neglect. What did that have to do with him as the owner?
Yet he never anticipated that, even with every precaution, Bo Jin would survive.
Didn’t he have a habit of leaning on the railing while smoking? Why didn’t he just now?
Standing on the balcony, with half of the railing broken, and yet he remained unharmed.
Wen Yong absentmindedly clenched his fingers, staring intently at the balcony.
He had arranged everything, yet Bo Jin didn’t fall as planned.
Why? Why?
Would fate protect him even in this?
Just then, Bo Jin broke free from Zhao Qin’s grip and turned back.
Their eyes met, and as he looked into Bo Jin’s fathomless black gaze, Wen Yong felt a shiver.
Bo Jin was smart—could he suspect anything?
He told himself no. He’d been careful, left no trace. Wen Yong’s fingers clenched, reassuring himself, but his heart pounded wildly.
If worst came to worst, he could flee the country.
Fortunately, he’d already prepared for this, with most of his assets transferred abroad. Leaving now would cause no major losses.
“Wen Yong? Wen Yong?” Zhao Qin called a few times, raising his voice when Wen Yong didn’t respond. “What are you frozen for? Call the cops!”
“Sorry,” Wen Yong forced a weak smile, gripping his phone but not moving, “I was just shaken.”
“Understandable,” Zhao Qin said, not noticing Wen Yong’s unease. “I’d be shaken too. You should thank Little Bo—you might’ve been the one in trouble if he hadn’t taken the fall for you. You owe him.”
“Eighteenth floor,” Zhao Qin muttered, no longer as agitated but still fuming. “Fine if nothing happens, but if it does, there’s no escape. Why haven’t you called yet? Forget it, I’ll call myself.”
Without waiting for Wen Yong to reply, he dialed 110.
The call was quickly answered, and Zhao Qin explained the situation in a rapid burst of words. Even after hanging up, he was still dissatisfied, so he fumbled around and logged into the company account on Big Eyes, intending to post a rant.
Bo Jin’s company had a lot of young people, and Big Eyes account was managed by a recent graduate who understood the tastes of young audiences, running it quite well, with a large following of active users.
Not like some company accounts, which were practically inactive.
“Let it go,” Wen Yong’s heart skipped a beat as he hurriedly stepped forward to stop Zhao Qin’s actions. Under Zhao Qin’s puzzled gaze, he forced an excuse, “The police haven’t arrived yet, and we don’t know the situation. Our company account has a big influence. It wouldn’t be good if there’s a misunderstanding.”
“True,” Zhao Qin nodded thoughtfully, not dwelling on it further. “Alright, we’ll wait for the police investigation. But if it turns out to be their problem, I won’t hesitate to expose them.”
Turning, he patted Bo Jin on the shoulder. “Right, Little Bo?”
“That’s up to Brother Yong,” Bo Jin replied with a meaningful smile.
The fear was real, but in his short nineteen years, he’d gone through enough that a little accident wouldn’t rattle him too much.
Wen Yong wasn’t sure if Bo Jin had picked up on something, and his hand trembled slightly before he steadied himself. “What do you mean by ‘up to me’?”
Bo Jin stared at him for a moment, unnerving Wen Yong until he finally smiled. “Oh,” he shifted his gaze away, casually walking past Wen Yong to redial the call with Xie Ruan, which he had accidentally cut off earlier. “I just meant that since this is your home, it’s up to you to decide how to handle things.”
He paused, then looked back. “Right?”
Wen Yong wasn’t sure if he felt relieved or more anxious. “Right.”
Bo Jin smirked, moving to the hallway to take his call. “Hm? Nothing, just a little accident. What accident? Oh, I just kicked over a vase. Really, don’t you believe me?”
Xie Ruan didn’t buy it at all.
With that loud crash, it definitely wasn’t just a vase breaking, and Bo Jin had been on the balcony just now. In fact, hearing the noise collapse from that side had already made him suspicious.
“Tell the truth.” Xie Ruan spoke as he hurriedly changed his shoes, not even stopping to grab a coat before rushing out of the dorm.
“Hey, where are you going? The dorm’s closing soon!” The dorm supervisor, abandoning her half-eaten sunflower seeds, called after him.
“Sorry, something came up at home,” Xie Ruan shouted back, cupping the phone as he continued to run.
“You still have to sign out! Which dorm are you from? What’s your name? Hey, student! Student…”
The dorm supervisor’s voice faded behind him.
The April night was still a bit chilly, especially in the evening, but Xie Ruan barely felt it. He tied the hem of his loose T-shirt around his waist, jumped over the shorter south wall, and used his hands to vault over the bricks, nimbly making his way out of the campus.
This was the first time he had broken school rules since transferring to Class One.
Not wanting to waste a second, he hailed a cab and mouthed “train station” to the driver before finally taking a slight breath of relief.
Balcony, height, and the noise he had just heard…
He knew for sure that Bo Jin had encountered some kind of danger.
Bo Jin didn’t want him to worry. Even though the situation had been risky, he was ultimately okay. Sensing the tension in Xie Ruan’s voice, he tried to divert the conversation. “Why are you so out of breath, babe? Were you up to no good under the covers?”
Usually, Xie Ruan would have clapped back at such an obvious flirt, but he didn’t have the energy for it now. “Enough with the nonsense. Tell me the truth, now.”
“Alright,” Bo Jin sighed, rubbing his forehead, knowing he couldn’t get out of this one.
He knew Xie Ruan well, but Xie Ruan knew him just as thoroughly. Rather than letting Xie Ruan overthink things, it would be better to come clean.
Bo Jin took a breath and asked, “Are you in your dorm now?”
On the other end, Xie Ruan replied impatiently, “Where else would I be?”
“Okay,” Bo Jin said with a reassuring smile, “but don’t freak out.”
Xie Ruan’s throat bobbed as his back stiffened. “Just tell me.”
Bo Jin exhaled slowly, trying to keep it casual. “The balcony railing just broke.”
As the words left his mouth, Bo Jin suddenly realized something.
Xie Ruan had always been overly cautious about him being in high places, especially recently, to the point of almost strict vigilance.
It was as if he knew something…
But how could that be?
How could anyone know the future?
Unless…
Bo Jin pressed his lips together, his gaze growing thoughtful.
“What?” Xie Ruan’s mind blanked, and he instinctively tried to stand up, only to bump his head against the roof of the cab. Only then did he remember he was still in the car.
Ignoring the driver’s concerned look, he urgently asked, “Are you okay?”
The noise didn’t go unnoticed by Bo Jin, who frowned. “What was that sound?”
At the critical moment, Xie Ruan came up with a quick lie, clenching his phone tightly. “Just hit my head on the bed frame.”
“You…” Bo Jin sighed, exasperated yet fond, his voice softening. “Does it hurt?”
Xie Ruan didn’t answer, instead asking again, “Are you really okay?”
Even though he had heard Bo Jin’s voice, he couldn’t help but want to confirm for himself.
“I’m fine, don’t worry,” Bo Jin assured him. Not wanting Zhao Qin or Wen Yong to overhear, he stepped out to the hallway, lighting a cigarette. “Not a scratch on me, I promise.”
How could Xie Ruan relax?
His heart was practically pounding out of his chest. After all his cautious efforts, something had slipped. Bo Jin had been right on the balcony; if anything had happened…
Xie Ruan quickly brushed away that thought.
At this point, his limbs were numb, frozen stiff from fear, but his mind was razor-sharp.
Shoddy construction work was common enough, but a balcony suddenly collapsing was rare, especially in a high-end complex where Wen Yong lived. Xie Ruan didn’t believe it was a simple accident.
“Call the police.” His tone was unwavering, showing a side of him Bo Jin hadn’t seen before, forceful and resolute. “Bo Jin, report this immediately.”
“I already did.” Not wanting him to worry, Bo Jin added, “You know Wen Yong’s address, right? The station is nearby; they’ll be here soon.”
“Good.” Xie Ruan paused before asking quietly, “Are you scared?”
Bo Jin was briefly taken aback, then chuckled. “What’s there to be scared of? This is nothing—stop overthinking it.” He glanced at his phone’s time. “Lights out now, right? Have you brushed your teeth? Go to bed.”
Xie Ruan stayed silent, clearly unwilling to hang up.
Stubborn as ever.
Bo Jin chuckled softly. “Be good, you have school tomorrow. Have you forgotten how close exams are?”
Xie Ruan thought, Exams are nothing compared to you, but reluctantly replied, “Fine.”
“Goodnight.”
“Night.”
As soon as the call ended, Xie Ruan booked a high-speed train ticket to Shuicheng. The two cities were close, and trains ran almost hourly. During the short trip, barely an hour or two, he was restless, fidgeting so much that others glanced his way. Luckily, Bo Jin sent him messages, easing his nerves a bit.
Perhaps sensing Xie Ruan’s worry, Bo Jin kept him updated.
Bo: The police arrived, took it seriously—three officers came.
Bo: Didn’t dare go on the balcony; just cordoned it off after asking questions.
Bo: Gotta go to the station for questioning. Look at that—your guy’s officially seen the inside of a police station.
Bo: Heading to the precinct, talk soon.
Your Bro Xie: Got it.
Sleep was out of the question. To distract himself, Xie Ruan put on his Bluetooth earphones and found a video to stop his mind from spiraling.
Meanwhile, as Bo Jin had said, he was taken to the station to give a statement.
The officers asked everything in great detail, from the beginning to the moment the railing snapped, down to every word, expression, and minor movement of Wen Yong and Zhao Qin since entering the house. By the end, the officer looked at him in mild shock.
Who remembers everything like this? Is he serious?
“This person…,” the young officer, likely only a few years older than Bo Jin, looked at him seriously, “Can you take responsibility for everything you’ve just said?”
The young police officer had seen plenty of high-energy teenagers who, once fired up, would blurt out just about anything.
Bo Jin didn’t quite look like one of them, but then again, what if he was just a subtle case instead of an obvious one?
After all, it was adolescence—anything was possible.
Bo Jin said, “I can.”
He paused, then added, “I have a good memory.”
“Good memory” was an understatement; if everything he said was true, it was downright terrifying.
Just to be sure, the officer asked him to repeat his statement, and to his shock, Bo Jin’s description was exactly the same as before.
It was like taking a critical hit, all in one night shift!
Dazed, the young officer closed his notebook, mentally shedding tears.
Was this the difference between people? It was a bigger gap than between a human and a monkey!
“How did it go?” The captain walked up behind him, flipping through the notebook in his hand.
“All done,” the officer replied honestly.
The captain seemed about to say something but paused as he noticed a particular section of the notes. He glanced at Bo Jin, who calmly met his gaze.
The captain clicked his tongue in thought—this kid had something remarkable.
The record seemed to be a straightforward recount of past events, but a seasoned cop could spot the subtle discrepancies in Wen Yong’s account right away.
And yet, the kid was only telling the truth, with not a single exaggeration.
Were kids really this sharp these days? It was like the newer waves of the Yangtze River pushing the older ones forward—he had to admit, he was feeling his age.
With a snap, the captain closed the notebook, his face showing no reaction. He gave Bo Jin a nod and then turned to head into another office.
By the time Bo Jin and the others were released from the station, it was already past midnight.
Having been through such an ordeal, even the usually stingy Zhao Qin felt generous for once. With a brotherly arm around Bo Jin’s shoulder, he suggested, “How about we grab some late-night snacks? My treat—it’ll help settle your nerves.”
“Sure.” Bo Jin shrugged indifferently; since Xie Ruan wasn’t around, he had no particular preference for where to go.
“Alright.” Zhao Qin pushed open the station door, letting Bo Jin go ahead. “I’ll check which spots nearby have good reviews. I don’t really know the area.”
He turned to Wen Yong and asked, “Old Wen, got any suggestions?”
Wen Yong smiled, his usual refined and gentle demeanor unchanged. “There’s a nice Japanese place I go to often.”
“Nah, not Japanese. It’s pricey and bland—might as well not eat at all.” Zhao Qin waved it off, pulling out his phone to search. “Little Bo, what do you feel like? How about some Northeastern barbecue? I love their grilled meat—perfectly marbled, sizzling with juices. Dip it in their special sauce… it’s unbeatable!”
“Sounds good.” Bo Jin looked up thoughtfully, then said, “Check for yellow clams on Dazhong Dianping; I’m craving…”
He trailed off, eyes fixed on something ahead.
Under the hazy night sky, the full moon lit up a small patch in front of the station.
Across the road, the usual daytime noise had faded, leaving a calm and peaceful scene.
And within that calm stood a figure.
A figure that should’ve been asleep in the school dorm at this hour.
Sensing his gaze, the figure abruptly looked up in his direction.
The still scene seemed to spring to life.
In the next moment, the figure lifted his foot and dashed toward him, leaving behind the people beside him, the cars behind him, and the moonlight scattered across the ground, rushing toward him with all his might.
