With Xuanlong taken care of and everyone's livelihood guaranteed, now there was only one thing left for He Juan to do, albeit it was also the most difficult one. No matter how much he dreaded it, no matter how painful it would be, this was something he must do – as soon as possible.
And thus, after departing from Xuanlong's headquarters, he set off toward Mu Yuze's house. The house they had lived together in for a brief period of time, most likely the moments when He Juan had felt the happiest.
He arrived at wee hours in the morning, carrying with him the chill of winter and the ever-present, haunting scent of blood that seemed to cling to him since that fateful night. Droplets of water hung on to his lashes, the tip of his hair, and drenching his clothes.
He had just opened the door and toed off his shoes as quietly as possible when a tentative voice pierced the stillness of the house,
"J–Juan-gege?"
