The Most Familiar Stranger

The air felt as if it had thickened into a viscous glue, making it difficult to breathe.

Lin Zhou stared straight at Shen Che, unblinking, as if trying to burn two holes in his face with her gaze. She wanted to see clearly whether the man before her was the lover from her memories or a demon wearing his skin.

Shen Che's body trembled slightly. He instinctively wanted to pick up the cap on the floor, to hide himself again, but his legs felt as heavy as lead, refusing to move. All his disguises had been torn to shreds in that instant, revealing the wretched core within.

"...Shen Che?" Lin Zhou finally found her voice. It was dry and hoarse, trembling with a disbelief she couldn't fathom herself.

Those two words were like a key, unlocking the floodgates of Shen Che's collapse. His eyes dimmed instantly, long lashes falling to hide all emotion. He didn't answer, his lips merely moved, finally uttering three words: "I'm so sorry."

Sorry?

Upon hearing those words, Lin Zhou suddenly laughed. It was a soft laugh, yet filled with endless sorrow and irony.

"Sorry?" she repeated, advancing on him step by step. "What do you have to be sorry for? Aren't you abroad? Aren't you conducting research at a top-tier institute? What, did the project end early? Or... did you never leave at all?"

Her every word was a cold knife stabbing into Shen Che's heart.

He couldn't answer, only closing his eyes in pain.

Lin Zhou's gaze slowly moved from his pale face to the faded old T-shirt he was wearing, to his wrists, so thin you could almost see the bone, and finally, to the dim, cluttered room behind him. The room was filled with the faint smell of medicine, and a few medicine bottles were piled in a corner.

There was nothing here that resembled the life of an elite researcher from abroad. There was only a down-and-out, sickly, lying fraud.

"Why?" Lin Zhou's voice rose again, this time laced with uncontrollable rage. "Why did you lie to me?!"

Shen Che's body swayed more violently. The veins on the back of the hand he used to grip the doorframe popped. "Zhou Zhou, I..."

"Don't call my name!" Lin Zhou cut him off sharply. "It makes me sick!"

Tears finally broke through. She didn't know if she was crying because her three years of waiting felt like a joke, or because her heart ached for the man before her who had tormented himself into this state. Anger, grievance, heartbreak, confusion... all emotions burst forth like a flood, instantly drowning her.

She didn't want to look at him anymore, didn't want to hear another word he said. She spun around abruptly and stumbled downstairs, as if being chased by a ghost.

Shen Che reached out, as if to grab her, but his hand fell limply to his side. He leaned against the cold doorframe, watching her disappear around the bend in the staircase, listening to the forceful slam of her door—a sound like a final judgment, casting him completely into hell.

He slowly bent down, picked up the cap, put it back on his head, and closed the door.

One door, two worlds.

The leaking ceiling continued to drip, drip, drip, like a pair of eyes that could never stop crying.