Xiaoxiao didn’t dwell on it much. After a moment of surprise, she turned back to Zhang Wanqing to discuss Zhang Baojiang’s suicide. “Please be careful,” she urged once more. “Don’t go out alone at night.”

Since Zhang Baojiang’s death was suspicious, there was no telling whether someone behind the scenes might also target Zhang Wanqing. It was better to be cautious.

Wanqing nodded. “Don’t worry, I can protect myself. I’ve been on my own since I was twelve. I wouldn’t have survived this long if I couldn’t.”

Xiaoxiao had to admit she was right and smiled. “Just try not to get hurt, okay?”

After dance practice, as Xiaoxiao returned home, Li Yunlan was already waiting at the compound’s entrance with a tearful An’an in her arms.

The moment the little girl saw her mother, she clapped her hands, still crying but now smiling too, calling “Mama” in a soft, clear voice.

Yunlan smiled as Xiaoxiao approached. “I think An’an is going to speak early. She’s already saying ‘Mama’ perfectly.”

Xiaoxiao parked her bike and took the baby, giving her a gentle pat on the bottom. “You little troublemaker, why all the fuss? Mama’s home now, isn’t she?”

An’an giggled happily, tears still clinging to her eyelashes, and continued calling “Mama” over and over.

Xiaoxiao couldn’t help but laugh. “Is she really saying it, or is it just a coincidence? Isn’t it too early for her to be talking at eight months?”

Yunlan wheeled the bicycle beside them. “Not at all. Some babies say ‘Mama’ and ‘Dada’ at eight months; others don’t speak until they’re one or two. Our An’an is just ahead of the curve.”

As they walked back, Yunlan mentioned, “Your aunt dropped off an invitation today. It’s for Lin Hongyan and Geng Aiguo’s wedding. They set the date for October 1st.”

Xiaoxiao was stunned. “So soon? Geng Aiguo just got divorced. Is he really remarrying already?”

Yunlan wasn’t sure either, but for the Geng family to agree so quickly and hold a wedding under such scrutiny, the bride was likely pregnant or something similar.

“Are you planning to attend?”

Xiaoxiao thought for a moment and shook her head. “I’ll send a gift through my aunt, but I won’t go.” She had no intention of giving Lin Hongyan the satisfaction of her presence.

Yunlan agreed. “That’s probably best. Their family affairs are none of our business.”

When they arrived home, Zhou Liyun and the housekeeper were feeding Qianqian and Xuanxuan egg custard. The two boys happily kicked their legs as they ate.

On the coffee table were two packages of traditional pastries wrapped in red paper.

Yunlan looked puzzled. “Did we have visitors while I was out?”

Liyun seemed equally confused. “Luo Anran’s mother stopped by. She dropped these off, said a few words, and left before I could even hand them back. I was holding the baby—what did she mean by coming here?”

Yunlan frowned. “What could she want at a time like this?”

Xiaoxiao guessed it might have something to do with Geng Aiguo’s rushed remarriage—an embarrassment to the Luo family, who lived in the same compound. A divorce followed immediately by a new wedding was a slap in their face.

Perhaps the Luo family wanted to reconcile with the Zhous, or had some other motive. They likely wanted to regain some dignity in front of the Gengs.

It was already dark when Zhou Xiaoling returned home later than usual, clearly upset.

She pulled Xiaoxiao upstairs as soon as she came in. “Xiaoran was waiting for me after school today. She talked for a long time and started crying. It made me feel awful.”

Xiaoxiao sighed. “What do you think you’ll do?”

Xiaoling looked troubled. “She reminded me of so many things from our childhood. I really feel for her. Marrying Geng Aiguo wasn’t her fault. I can’t just ignore her because of that. You have no idea how close we were.”

She went on sharing memories of growing up with Luo Anran, and Xiaoxiao couldn’t help but feel sympathetic. In many ways, Anran was also a victim.

Xiaoxiao patted her shoulder. “Follow your heart. Do what feels right. Her love life doesn’t have to affect your friendship. What happened between her and Zhou Xiaocheng is for them to work out.”

When it came to matters of the heart, outsiders could rarely help. What might seem wrong to others wasn’t always truly wrong.

Xiaoling scratched her head. “This is all Geng Aiguo’s fault.”

But her mood shifted quickly. Leaning on her hand, she looked at Xiaoxiao. “Last night I had a dream about Lin Zihao. He was covered in blood, lying in the mud under heavy rain. He wasn’t moving… The rainwater around him was red.”

Xiaoxiao felt a chill. “Don’t worry,” she said quickly. “Dreams are often the opposite of reality. I’m sure he’s fine.”

But even as she said it, anxiety tightened in her chest. She’d always told herself that no news was good news, but hearing about that dream stirred up fears she couldn’t suppress.

That night, Xiaoxiao had a dream too—the same driving rain, the same blood soaking the earth, with no one in sight.

She ran frantically through the jungle, afraid to make a sound, following a trail of blood like a lost soul until she reached a cliff. There, scattered everywhere, were broken backpacks and supplies.

Her heart pounded. Why was there no one there?

Slowly, she approached. Under one of the packs lay something white.

She bent down, picked it up, and turned it over.

It was the photo of her and the triplets.