Chapter 1

In Riverside City, there is an unwritten rule.

No matter who you dare to offend, never offend Rowan, the owner of the Twilight Lounge.

Rumors about her past are as numerous as they are conflicting.

Some say she was once a foreign mercenary, someone who has killed and carried guns, a feared "female Rakshasa."

Others say she is the little princess of the underworld, and that touching her is like challenging the entire dark web.

It wasn't until her high school diary, written on an online forum years ago, was dug up and went viral, that the truth emerged.

Only then did the netizens realize that Rowan had no terrifying past.

She was incredibly ordinary, so ordinary that she couldn't even bring herself to confess her ten-year-long unrequited love.

After peeling back the layers, netizens soon locked onto the diary’s protagonist—the city's most handsome police officer, Caleb.

Fearing that her secret女事 (girlhood secrets) would be exposed, Rowan logged into her old account that very night.

Only to find a new notification popping up.

"Rowan, this is Caleb."

...

Inside the office of the Twilight Lounge, the harsh white light of the fluorescent lamp spilled across Rowan's still, blank face.

Her eyes were fixed on the phone screen. Caleb’s avatar was still the familiar fireworks.

It was a display picture she had chosen for him ten years ago.

Back then, she was obsessed with the show Flowers in Fog, and through a mix of pestering and threats, she had forced her closest friends to change their avatars to the "Four Flowers" set.

Caleb had been one of them.

Her pale fingertips hovered over the screen.

In the ten years she hadn't logged into the account, Caleb had been sending her messages incessantly.

Ten years ago, he wrote: "Rowan, weren't you guaranteed admission to the top universities? Why did you drop out of high school?"

Nine years ago, he wrote: "Rowan, if you still want to attend university, I can help you."

Eight years ago, at midnight, he sent:

"Rowan, it’s been three years. My brother has been gone for three years, and you never once came to visit him."

"Do you have a heart?"

Seven years ago, he said: "Rowan, from now on, I’ll just consider you dead."

Since that line, Caleb had never sent her another message.

Seeing this, Rowan curled her lips in a bitter, difficult smile.

Consider her dead...

She truly wasn't much different from someone who had already died once.

Deported while working as a dishwasher abroad, held at gunpoint during a robbery right after getting her first paycheck, and trafficked to the border where she almost lost her organs.

Rowan held the phone, hesitating, not knowing how to respond.

Her mind was swirling with the realization that Caleb had discovered this account a long time ago—did that mean he already knew about her secret crush on him...

The dialogue box still showed: Typing...

A second later, Caleb's message popped up:

[Rowan, my brother has been dead for ten years. Please delete this account. You are not worthy of disturbing his peace.]

Rowan let out a hollow laugh; her chest felt as if it had been stuffed with wet cotton.

She typed back: [Caleb, do you really think he was who I was writing about?]

She deleted and rewrote the text.

Rowan stared at the screen for a long time, only to realize that whenever she faced Caleb, her cowardice flared up like a sickness.

That was why, back then, she had only dared to chase after his brother, Ezra.

Consequently, everyone at Riverside High had assumed she was in love with Ezra.

Rowan had been too cowardly to explain. She was afraid that if she did, she wouldn't even be able to remain friends with Caleb.

After all, Caleb had mentioned back then that he already had someone he liked.

After a moment of contemplation.

Rowan sent a message: "I’m sorry. I will delete the account."

"And I will post a clarification online."

Rowan lit a cigarette, inhaling deeply until the smoke reached her lungs, trying to blow away the melancholy.

She waited quietly, watching the screen dim and then light up again, but there was no further movement from the other end.

Only then did she finally stand up.

Suddenly, a commotion erupted in the lounge.

June, her assistant, pushed the door open, looking pale with panic, and shouted, "Ms. Rowan, it's bad! The cops are here with a seal to shut us down!"

Rowan didn't rush. She extinguished her cigarette in the ashtray, inch by inch.

Then, she straightened her posture and walked out.

The lounge was opulent and gilded. Rowan wore a tight-fitting skirt, her exquisite figure fully on display.

As she stepped into the main hall, she saw the waitresses, their makeup smeared, huddled in the corner by the wall.

And Rowan’s eyes instantly locked onto the most towering figure in the crowd.

Caleb was wearing his police uniform, his brows sharp, the boyish innocence of his youth long gone.

He shouted angrily: "We’ve received reports that this establishment is organizing prostitution! Who is the person in charge?"

Rowan’s heart felt as if it were about to burst from her chest.

How could she be meeting Caleb again under such an embarrassing scenario?

Her throat felt constricted as she walked forward, explaining with practiced composure.

"Officers, this is definitely a misunderstanding. We are operating legally and in full compliance..."

The next moment, that tall figure loomed over her.

Caleb looked into her eyes; his gaze was like a cold, frozen pool, devoid of ripples.

"Rowan, my brother gave his life to save you. Is this how you choose to degrade yourself?"

Chapter 2

Caleb’s words felt like a branding iron seared into Rowan’s heart.

Caleb cuffed her himself, then held up an arrest warrant: "If you have anything to explain, say it at the station."

Inside the police car, Caleb sat in the passenger seat.

Rowan stared at his profile, still in a daze, unable to pull herself back to reality.

The female officer beside her teased Rowan coldly: "You're staring at our Captain Caleb so intently—is there something you want to tell him?"

Rowan felt a lump in her chest and wanted to deny it.

But then she heard the officer pour a bucket of cold water on her with a mocking tone.

"If you've got your eye on Captain Caleb, you might as well save your breath. Our Captain is getting married soon."

Rowan’s faint smile stiffened. The rest of the ride was filled with an endless, oppressive silence.

When they arrived at the precinct, before Rowan even reached the interrogation room, the Chief personally came to release her, looking apologetic.

"Ms. Rowan, Mr. Lewis from the Chamber of Commerce just called me."

"Today's incident was all a misunderstanding. I'll have someone unseal your lounge immediately."

Caleb didn't move. He looked at Rowan, his expression and tone both icy.

"Ten years later, and you're still the same—doing whatever it takes to evade responsibility."

The Chief frowned and interrupted Caleb: "What are you talking about? Those girls are deaf-mutes who couldn't find work elsewhere; Ms. Rowan kindly gave them simple reception jobs."

"Twilight Lounge has never had any illegal operations!"

"You're usually so steady, Caleb. Have you lost your mind today? Spouting wild accusations at Ms. Rowan! Apologize at once."

Rowan felt a constriction in her throat; she waved her hand and said, "No need."

Before she could finish, a spirited, lively voice rang out at the precinct entrance: "Well, well, Uncle Zhang, you're getting on in years, why are you using your rank to pressure our Caleb!"

Rowan looked toward the door and saw a girl in a goose-yellow dress wearing a beret.

It was Claire, the "little wave" of their old group, once her best friend.

Was she the one who was going to marry Caleb?

But back then, the person she liked clearly wasn't Caleb.

Claire’s arrival diffused the awkward atmosphere, and the Chief gave Caleb a quick instruction before leaving.

When Claire’s eyes landed on Rowan, her expression instantly cooled: "Rowan?"

"It really is you. Where have you been all these years?"

"Why didn't you contact us? Have you been doing well? Why did you drop out of school back then..."

Claire had so many questions, so many that Rowan didn't know where to begin.

She hadn't reached out because she didn't know how.

Ten years had passed; she had already gone off the rails and was no longer the Rowan everyone had once doted on.

She had suffered from depression, poverty, and despair.

Then, she had crawled out of the mud and was now living her life.

Seeing Rowan’s silence, Caleb gave a cold snort and answered for her: "She’s doing just fine, thriving while running a nightclub."

Claire couldn't believe it: "A nightclub?"

The questioning tone revealed her misunderstanding.

Rowan’s dry lips parted several times, but in the end, she didn't explain. She just managed a smile.