An Yin timidly took a step forward. "I’ll leave first. For safety, lock the door from the inside after you go in," instructed Wen Mei. "Okay, thank you, Sister Mei," An Yin murmured. Wen Mei shot a meaningful glance at the little girl’s back before leaving. After much hesitation, An Yin finally entered. Afraid there might be outsiders in the corridor, she nervously locked the door, then began to gingerly explore the elegant bedroom. A screen was hanging on the wall, presumably for watching television. In the center stood a large wooden bed. Near the window were two wooden armchairs, with a square dining table between them. An Yin discovered a hidden door in one corner of the room. Anxiously, she pushed it open gently and found a luxurious bathroom with an oversized bathtub. Judging by the decor, whoever renovated this room put in a lot of effort. A room meant specifically for the staff to rest, yet it’s this nice? An Yin felt something was off. She pondered it over carefully but couldn’t figure out why. She carefully approached the wooden chair by the window and sat down. There was a soft cushion on the chair, making it quite comfortable to sit on. A tea set was placed on the dining table, and An Yin noticed that there was actually tea in the cups. She reached out to touch a cup and felt warmth. This suggested the tea hadn’t been brewed long ago. An Yin didn’t dare to drink the tea on the table. She took out her phone and opened WeChat. Opening the chat with Bao Shaojin. Content orıginally comes from 𝓷𝓸𝓿𝓮𝓵⟡𝓯𝓲𝓻𝓮⟡𝓷𝓮𝓽 The last time she met him, he was still in the hospital. She wondered if he had been discharged yet. Perforated stomach? After leaving the hospital, she searched Baidu about this condition. By the end, her eyes were red and teary. Even though the man on the hospital bed looked quite energetic, after reading those Baidu results, she couldn’t help but feel he was about to go straight into a coffin. It took her a while to calm down. This made her realize one thing—she cared about him! The heating was on indoors. Despite wearing thin clothes, she didn’t feel a bit of coldness. She stared at the chat interface for a long time until a sharp horn blaring from outside the window interrupted her thoughts. After much hesitation, she tapped lightly on the phone screen with her fair fingertips. An Yin: [Bao Shaojin, are you feeling better?] Unbeknownst to her, a thin layer of sweat formed in the palm holding the phone tightly. After the message was sent, An Yin found her mind in a tense state, unaware of any changes around her, her bright and beautiful eyes staring straight at the phone. What was happening to her? An Yin placed the phone on the table, feeling unfamiliar with her own anxious emotions. The phone emitted a clear sound, indicating someone sent a WeChat message. An Yin held her breath. Bao Shaojin: [Discharged.] The man’s reply was as concise as ever. An Yin stared blankly, with many things she wanted to say, but after seeing the three words from him, she swallowed all her words of concern. Bao Shaojin: [Found a job yet?] Just as An Yin was feeling downhearted, he sent another message. In no time, she sat up straight, spiritedly typing. She had previously mentioned to him about finding a job, and surprisingly, he remembered. An Yin: [Not yet. Maybe it’s because of the holidays; many students are doing part-time jobs. The milk tea shops, coffee shops, and burger joints I went to are already fully staffed.] Another cold, single word. An Yin’s mood immediately sank to the bottom of the sea. An Yin didn’t reply, nor did the man. The conversation ended abruptly. The only thing that made An Yin happy was knowing that he had been discharged. Before she could put the phone down, a call came in. Seeing an unfamiliar number, she initially didn’t want to answer, but fearing missing something important, she picked up, warily waiting for the caller to speak first. "Hello? Is this An Yin?" The caller had a loud voice, almost as if speaking with much effort—and it was an elderly person. An Yin felt a sense of familiarity. "May I ask who you are?" An Yin cautiously inquired. "It’s me, Grandma Wu." Elderly folks often raise their voice when calling, afraid the other person can’t hear them. "Grandma Wu." After calling out joyfully, An Yin realized something was off. In the middle of the night, why would Grandma Wu call her, "Grandma Wu, do you need something from me?" "It’s pouring rain over here. Your family’s windows have been open for days, and the water is definitely inside, leaking down to our floor. The ceiling is ruined. Not only that, but my walls are still seeping water. I tried calling your mom, but no one answered when I knocked on your door. I could only reach out to you." Grandma Wu helplessly complained. In the middle of the night, dealing with a leaking house is quite the nuisance for an elderly person. "I’m sorry, Grandma Wu. Let me contact my mom and get back to you, okay? We’ll definitely resolve this ASAP. I sincerely apologize," An Yin said, her face full of shame. Grandma Wu had two apartments in that building—one opposite their home, the other below. When Grandma Wu was younger, she didn’t get along with her husband. They often quarreled living together. At the time, the apartment below was for sale, so Grandma Wu’s children bought it. Since then, the old couple lived separately in peace, occasionally meeting with smiles and laughter. Neighbors often teased the old couple about this arrangement. "Girl, you need to hurry," Grandma Wu urged. If one of the apartments started leaking, it would be uninhabitable—forcing the old couple to live together again, something Grandma Wu could not bear, especially since her husband snored, ground his teeth, and refused to bathe. She could not tolerate even a minute of that. "Okay, goodbye, Grandma Wu," An Yin said anxiously and hung up. She also wondered why Ms. An wasn’t answering her phone and why she wasn’t home—where was she? With trembling hands, she dialed Ms. An’s number. After two unanswered calls, An Yin called with a video option, but still no answer. An Yin stood up, her heart filled with unease. She frantically stood up, unaware that her hands were shaking. As she opened the door, she gazed vacantly at the empty corridor. Taking a step forward, she suddenly felt weak at the knees and fell onto the carpeted tiles. Instinctively, she propped herself up with her hands and slowly stood up, her pale face full of panic. In the corridor, Wen Mei hurried over, as if she had been monitoring An Yin’s every move.