Late at night.
White Li crouched on the air conditioner’s outdoor unit, head tilted, fox ears standing straight, carefully catching every sound in the house.
Steady, long breaths rose and fell like tides. Occasionally, there was the sound of turning over, the quilt rustling a few times, then silence.
White Li waited a while longer.
Only after confirming there was no change in the breathing did she gently leap up from the air conditioner unit.
The bare tips of her toes touched the windowsill, making almost no sound.
Her tail swayed behind her, steadying her center of gravity.
Then she reached out and used her fingernail to pry open the edge of the screen window.
The screen window was old-fashioned, without a latch, just held in the frame by tension.
White Li widened the gap enough to squeeze in sideways, held her breath, and slipped into the room like a fish.
The tips of her toes landed gently on the floor—cool hardwood—without a single creak.
White Li crouched in place, held her breath, and pricked up her ears to confirm again.
No anomalies.
She stretched her slightly stiff limbs a bit.
Crouching outside for so long had frozen her knees and ankles.
‘I wonder if Xiao Yu was in the same situation when she was hiding outside,’ she thought.
She rotated her wrists and twisted her neck.
The joints let out a faint crack, startling her into stopping immediately.
She listened again for a moment.
Confirming she hadn’t woken him, she sighed in relief.
Then she began to survey the room.
This was the living room of a one-bedroom apartment, much larger than hers, appearing quite spacious.
The building she lived in was from the first phase, while this one had been built a few years later, so the facilities and furniture were newer.
The floor was light-colored hardwood, the walls painted warm white latex.
The baseboards hadn’t peeled off, and there were no cracks in the corners.
The curtains were dark gray, with excellent blackout properties.
White Li carefully took her first step, toes touching down first, then the ball of her foot, then the heel.
Her toes were round, her nails trimmed neat and smooth, glowing faint pink in the moonlight.
The living room was small but tidy.
A neatly folded light gray blanket lay draped over the dark blue fabric sofa.
On the coffee table was a book opened halfway, next to an empty mug with coffee stains still on the inside.
The TV stand had no decorations, just a small alarm clock and a box of tissues.
In the corner stood a bookshelf with several rows of books, mostly textbooks and novels, along with some magazines she couldn’t name.
White Li’s gaze slowly swept across the room, like a slow-turning radar.
Her heart pounded thump thump thump, so fast it felt like it would leap out of her throat.
She knew what she was doing was wrong.
Breaking into someone’s home in the middle of the night was illegal.
But she found a reason for herself:
‘I’m not here to steal, just to scout things out.’
‘See what Lin Du’s usual living space is like, see what hobbies he has, see if he really has a hidden secret like Sitiao Shizhi said.’
She remembered what Sitiao Shizhi had said today—things like “Lin Du is mine” and “All his secrets, only I know.”
White Li hadn’t refuted at the time, because she didn’t know what to refute.
But now, standing in this quiet, tidy living room filled with Lin Du’s presence, she suddenly found that remark extremely jarring.
‘What does “mine” even mean?’
‘Lin Du is a living person, with his own life, his own thoughts!’
‘When did he become that woman’s possession?!’
White Li bit her lip, pushed those messy thoughts down, and continued moving slowly around the living room.
She walked over to the sofa and saw a jacket draped over the armrest.
Cotton material, the cuffs slightly worn, as if it had been worn for a long time.
White Li stopped, stared at the jacket for a moment, then reached out, pinched the edge of a sleeve, lifted it, and brought it to her nose.
The scent of laundry detergent, with a hint of sun-dried air, and a trace… something she couldn’t quite identify.
Like body heat, like skin, like the smell of someone who had lived alone for a long time, seeping into the fabric fibers—his own personal scent.
“Mmm—”
White Li’s legs pressed together slightly, her knees going weak.
She remembered the hug from yesterday morning, her face pressed against his chest, the same smell through his school uniform.
Her fingers trembled slightly as she clutched the jacket tighter.
‘Can’t think about this anymore.’
White Li quickly put the jacket back, grabbed the sofa armrest, and slowly stood up.
Her legs were still weak, her knees a bit uncooperative.
She took a deep breath, then exhaled, forcing her heart back down from her throat.
She wouldn’t allow herself to stop.
Once she stopped, she would start thinking,
‘Why am I doing this?’
Then she would get more and more guilty, more and more like a pervert, then she would run, then she would regret it.
So she couldn’t stop; she had to finish looking at this room, see every corner, memorize every inch of space where Lin Du lived.
That way she could know whether the “secret” that Sitiao Shizhi mentioned was really known only to her.
White Li slowly straightened up and continued walking through the living room.
Her gaze landed on the wall.
On the wall hung a family portrait.
Three smiling faces.
A middle-aged man in a dark suit, with a gentle smile.
A middle-aged woman with her hair pinned back, gentle features, very similar to Lin Du.
And a little boy, around seven or eight, wearing a small white shirt, grinning wide, showing the gaps of two missing front teeth.
White Li stepped closer, squinting to see carefully.
The father’s figure looked photoshopped—around the edges of his body was a blur of light, as if cut out from another photograph.
The suit he wore didn’t seem to be his; the collar was too wide, the shoulders a bit slumped, as if borrowed.
White Li stood in front of that family portrait for a long time.
‘Father died young. Mother was stricken with grief and passed away a few years later.’
‘How did he get through that?’
White Li lowered her head, staring at her own toes.
‘She didn’t dare think about it. A kid over ten, suddenly losing his dad, then his mom.’
‘No one picked him up from school, no one cooked for him, no one asked him “How was school today?”‘
‘He lived alone in this room, cooking for himself, washing his own clothes, cleaning his own space, living all by himself…’
Her nose stung a bit; she quickly shook her head to shake it off.
‘I’m not here to get emotional. I’m here to scout for information.’
White Li turned and walked toward the kitchen.
The kitchen was small, but clean.
The trash had been taken out, and a new plastic bag was in the bin.
No dishes soaking in the sink, no grease stains on the stove, even the range hood surface was polished shiny.
White Li opened the refrigerator door; cold air rushed out.
“Ding—”
The light inside the fridge lit up in the darkness, emitting the sound of being opened.
‘Oh no!’
White Li was startled and quickly looked back toward the bedroom.