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On the day Su Wan had her stitches removed, Lin Yan used the excuse of "project research" and drove two hours to her studio. Sunlight streamed through the newly replaced floor-to-ceiling windows, falling on her just-unbandaged arm. A light pink scar curved like a faint mark, winding beneath her pale skin. "The doctor said the recovery is perfect—only a faint trace will remain," Su Wan lifted her arm to show him, her eyes bright with joy, like a child receiving a reward. "I painted a small picture today. Let me show you." An easel held a tiny oil painting: a twilight-lit old alley, with a black car parked under the parasol tree at the entrance. A man’s profile was faintly reflected in the car window—it was him, the day he’d somehow wandered here on an impulse. Lin Yan’s heart trembled sof
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