A Warning in Red

Yiran's fingers tightened around the red envelope.

You are running out of time.

The ink was bold, deliberate.

Not a threat. A certainty.

A warning from someone who knew something she didn't.

Her pulse pounded as she quickly glanced around.

The entrance hall was quiet. Empty.

Lu Zeyan had already walked past her, his steps leading deeper into the house, his posture as relaxed as ever.

He hadn't even looked at the envelope.

Had he seen it?

Had he expected it?

Yiran hesitated.

She could call out to him. Show him the note. Demand answers.

But a sharp instinct told her not to.

She exhaled slowly and slid the envelope into the folds of her gown, hiding it from view.

Now wasn't the time.

Now—she had to think.

Her mind raced.

Who had left this?

The servants? No—they wouldn't dare.

Xu Haoran? Unlikely. His threats were more refined, his words a slow poison, not something as direct as this.

Then—

A noise.

A soft creak from upstairs.

Yiran's breath caught.

She turned sharply, her gaze flicking toward the grand staircase.

The upper halls were cloaked in dim light, the shadows stretching long against the polished floors.

Still. Silent.

But she knew what she had heard.

She wasn't alone.

Someone—or something—was there.

Yiran stayed still.

Listening.

Waiting.

The faint sound had already faded, swallowed by the silence of the house.

But that didn't mean it hadn't been real.

She glanced over her shoulder.

Lu Zeyan was nowhere in sight, already lost in the depths of the estate.

If she called for him, would he even come?

No.

She was on her own.

Her gaze flicked back to the grand staircase, the dim lighting casting elongated shadows along the upper halls.

For a second, she considered ignoring it.

Pretending she hadn't heard anything.

Walking away.

But the note in her sleeve—You are running out of time—made her decision for her.

If someone had left that message…

Then maybe they were still here.

Yiran inhaled lightly, straightening her posture before stepping forward.

One foot in front of the other, her movements careful, deliberate.

She ascended the staircase, the soft rustle of her gown the only sound in the stillness.

At the top, the corridor stretched in both directions, leading to the private rooms of the estate.

Her gaze swept across the space.

Nothing.

Then—

She saw it.

A door.

Slightly open.

Barely noticeable, just enough that a sliver of darkness peeked through the crack.

Had it always been like that?

Her pulse quickened.

She took another step forward.

And then—

A shadow shifted inside.

Yiran's breath caught.

She wasn't alone.

Yiran stood perfectly still.

The dim corridor stretched around her, the silence pressing against her ears.

But her focus was locked on the door ahead.

Slightly ajar.

Just enough that she could see the darkness within.

A second ago, she could have convinced herself that it had always been like that.

That the soft creak she heard had been nothing.

But then—

It moved.

Not a person. Not fully.

Just a shift.

A slow, quiet disturbance in the shadows.

Something—or someone—was in there.

Watching.

Waiting.

Yiran's fingers curled slightly at her sides, hidden beneath the long sleeves of her gown.

What now?

Call out?

Step forward?

Turn back?

Every option felt like walking into the unknown.

The air felt thick, charged with something just beneath the surface.

Then—

The light flickered.

A brief hesitation in the glow of the hallway lamp.

A second. No more.

But in that second—

The door creaked open just an inch more.

Slow. Deliberate.

An invitation.

Or a warning.

Yiran's pulse thundered in her ears.

Whatever this was—it was waiting for her to make the next move.

Yiran's breath came slow and steady.

The door stood ahead, slightly ajar, the darkness inside stretching endlessly.

Silent.

Still.

Except—it wasn't.

She could feel it.

The subtle weight of something unseen.

Something waiting.

A trick of the mind? A shadow cast by flickering light?

Or—a presence?

Her pulse thumped against her ribs, but she forced her body to remain still. Controlled.

She had learned long ago that fear only made you weak.

She exhaled softly, her fingers brushing against the smooth fabric of her gown.

What now?

Step forward?

Turn away?

Pretend she hadn't noticed?

Every instinct in her body told her—this was a test.

But of what?

She took a slow step forward.

The soft rustle of her gown felt too loud against the silence.

Another step.

The doorway loomed before her now, close enough that she could reach out and push the door open fully.

But before she could—

Something shifted inside.

A whisper of movement.

Close.

Too close.

And then—

A voice.

Low. Faint. Not quite real.

"…Yiran."

Her breath stalled.

The sound barely reached her ears, just a soft brush of air.

But the way it curled around her name—

Like it knew her. Like it had been waiting.

A cold shiver ran down her spine.

And in that instant—she knew.

She wasn't imagining this.

She wasn't alone.

Yiran didn't move.

Didn't breathe.

The whisper still clung to the air, dissolving into silence.

Had she imagined it?

No.

She knew what she heard.

Someone—or something—had spoken her name.

But now, the room beyond the door was dead silent.

Too silent.

The kind of silence that didn't belong in an ordinary house.

The kind of silence that listened.

Her pulse thrummed against her skin, but she forced her body to remain still.

Think.

If someone was inside, why hadn't they moved?

Why hadn't they stepped forward?

Unless—

They were waiting for her to do it first.

Her fingers twitched slightly.

Step forward?

Turn back?

She didn't get the chance to decide.

Because in the next breath—

The door SLAMMED shut.

The sound split through the silence like a crack of thunder, echoing down the empty hall.

Yiran's breath hitched, her body jerking back instinctively.

A chill curled down her spine as she stared at the now-closed door.

Her pulse pounded.

And for the first time since she arrived at the Lu estate—

She was afraid.