Discovered
Lin Yudan had appeared behind them at some point without anyone noticing. His voice was stiff: “That’s the truth—I was left behind.”
He said it calmly, but the last part of his sentence sounded like it had been painfully pieced together from raw, bleeding fragments.
Lu Congxing had already finished reading the letter.
He had imagined all sorts of possibilities—just not that it would be a breakup letter from Danghu to Lin Yudan.
Or rather, it felt less like a breakup letter and more like a declaration of finality.
Lin Yudan stepped forward, his expression eerily calm. He picked up the silver handcuffs from the table and gently stroked them. “I’m really angry. But this time, I’m ready. Once I find him, I’m going to use these on him. Then we’ll never be apart again.”
“That’s why, of course we can’t go to the police!” Lin Yudan suddenly raised his voice, then immediately lowered it again. “Only I can find him. Only I can lock him up. I want him to become my little rose.”
Lu Congxing was shaken by the madness in his eyes. He suddenly realized—maybe he had gotten something terribly wrong.
He pulled out his phone to check the timeline of when ‘Imprisonment’ was painted—and found that it was indeed completed after Danghu had gone missing.
“The timeline doesn’t match,” He Zhouyan said softly, taking the breakup letter from Lu Congxing’s hands. “It was only after being dumped that he started thinking about imprisonment.”
A pale light flickered past He Zhouyan’s eyes—he immediately knew the letter was indeed written by Danghu. Traces of demon power still lingered on the paper.
He Zhouyan glanced coolly at Lin Yudan.
In his eyes, this man was nothing more than a pathetic loser—he couldn’t even hold on to the person he loved, yet still clung desperately to the delusion that he hadn’t really been left.
Lin Yudan was stung by his gaze. He snatched the letter back and clenched it tightly. “Enough, okay? Are you satisfied now? Even I don’t know where he is.”
That movement drew Lu Congxing’s attention to the engagement ring on Lin Yudan’s finger. He asked, confused, “Do you really believe he stopped loving you?”
Demons rarely wished to marry humans, so he was more inclined to believe that something had held Danghu back.
Lin Yudan doubled over in pain, his back trembling uncontrollably. “I don’t know. I don’t know… He left me at the lowest point of my life. Someone told me he was only with me for my fame. So now I’ve recovered—if I climb even higher, he’ll come back.”
Even if that person really had only come for his fame, he was still willing to be deceived.
He Zhouyan let out a dry laugh, as if he’d just heard the most ridiculous joke. His eyes were laced with mockery. “For your fame? According to the investigation, wasn’t he with you back when you were so broke you couldn’t even afford to paint?”
Though phrased as a question, his tone left no room for doubt.
Lin Yudan froze. It was like an invisible hand had gripped his heart. Not even the comforting lie—that Danghu would come back for fame—could hold up anymore.
Right. His lover wasn’t the type to chase vanity. From the very beginning, he had never cared about such things. So how could he possibly come back now, for something he never wanted in the first place?
All the pride, the confidence, the delusions shattered in an instant. For the first time, Lin Yudan felt uncertain about standing so high above the world.
Lu Congxing caught a few key phrases from his words and quickly followed up, “What do you mean he left during your darkest time?”
His gut told him—this might be the key to Danghu’s disappearance.
Lin Yudan seemed to age several years all at once. He walked heavily to a cabinet, pulled out a medical diagnosis, and tossed it to Lu Congxing.
Speaking as though to the other two people in the room—or perhaps just to himself—he said, “A little over a month ago, I was suddenly struck with a severe eye disease. In just a week, my vision started to blur. He took me to countless hospitals, but none could fix it. For a painter, this kind of blow is devastating.”
“My hard work, my childhood dreams, everything I had—suddenly it all seemed as fragile as bubbles. I fell into despair, became withdrawn and careless. Just when I thought I would never hold a brush again, my eyes suddenly started getting better. Even my attending doctor called it a miracle.”
He summed up all that hopelessness in just a few short sentences.
It sounded like the start of a story heading for a happy ending.
But what’s a story without twists? Lin Yudan took a deep breath. “But then he suddenly left. On the very day my eyes fully healed, I wanted to tell him the good news—only to find that he’d cut off all contact. Social media, phone, everything. All he left behind was that breakup letter in his handwriting.”
“Ridiculous, isn’t it? It wasn’t until he disappeared that I realized how little I actually knew about him. He had completely integrated himself into my life, yet when he left, he peeled himself away without a trace. I didn’t even know if he had any friends.”
Like a pitiful clown on stage, he forced a twisted smile.
When he mentioned the eye disease, Lu Congxing even held his breath—because deep down, he felt like he finally had an answer. But it was too tragic to confirm lightly.
He tugged gently on He Zhouyan’s sleeve and whispered, “Can we go to the Bureau of Supernatural Affairs?”
He Zhouyan nodded, took his hand, and left without looking back.
As they exited Lin Yudan’s home, Lu Congxing couldn’t help but glance back one last time.
Lin Yudan was softly stroking a portrait of Danghu, wearing a sick, clinging smile.
When trying to find out if a demon is still alive, there’s one simple and brutal method—check their Candlelight Record at the Bureau of Supernatural Affairs.
Every registered demon in the Bureau of Supernatural Affairs has a candle, placed in the Dawn Hall. It will never go out—unless the demon dies.
Demons live far too long, so going missing isn’t unusual. That’s why Lu Congxing didn’t think much of it at first. But now, a sense of urgency gripped him. His heart pounded irregularly, growing more frantic the closer he got to the Dawn Hall.
The hall was guarded by a Chongming bird, who lit up with joy the moment she saw the cub. Without a word, she opened the door to let them in.
Despite being called a “hall,” the Dawn Hall felt more like a vast, boundless cosmos once you stepped inside. There were no stars—only the flickering of countless candles in their place.
The Chongming bird raised her hand, summoning a cluster of dancing candle flames. She squinted at them carefully, her voice gentle and kind as she spoke to the cub: “These are the candles of the Danghu demons. But the one you’re looking for… their candle has gone out.”
In other words, they had died.
She added softly, “It went out just over a month ago.”
Even though he had already suspected it, having the truth laid out in front of him still hit hard.
He thanked the Chongming bird, then left with He Zhouyan.
The two walked in silence through the Bureau. This stretch of the corridor was usually quiet—few demons passed by.
Lu Congxing finally broke the silence: “Is Danghu meat really as powerful as the ‘Classic of Mountains and Seas’ says?”
He Zhouyan nodded. “Yeah. But what the humans never recorded is this—if a Danghu willingly offers themselves, their flesh can cure all diseases of the eyes.”
It was a love so passionate, it burned itself away.
Lin Yudan could never have imagined that the cure for his eyes came at the cost of his lover’s life.
The one he had waited for… was never coming back.
The only lead Lu Congxing had on his father was now gone—but he found he didn’t really care anymore.
He Zhouyan looked at the gloomy cub with a trace of pity in his eyes.
He clearly needed comfort—preferably somewhere private, behind a locked door, where he could properly soothe the grieving cub.
He Zhouyan was seriously considering this, just about to speak, when he was suddenly interrupted.
The Director of the Bureau of Supernatural Affairs had appeared out of nowhere. The gluttonous Taotie bounced over with the glee of a 200-pound fat man: “It’s already so late—why not just stay the night here at the Bureau?”
At some point, the Deputy Director had also arrived. He was more composed as he added, “It’s dangerous for a cub to go home so late.”
He Zhouyan almost lost it. For the first time in front of the cub, he dropped his calm demeanor and gritted his teeth. “And it wouldn’t be safe with me around?”
Taotie clearly enjoyed seeing the noble Bai Ze lose face. Since ancient times, the vicious Taotie and the righteous Bai Ze had never gotten along.
Why was it that someone as honest and good-natured as himself had been was labeled a ferocious beast, while that sanctimonious, suit-wearing thug Bai Ze had been honored as an auspicious beast!?
The Director snorted. “I didn’t invite you. You can go home by yourself.”
Expressionless, He Zhouyan crushed a nearby ornament that was hard as iron.
The Deputy Director silently observed the possessiveness in his eyes.
Lu Congxing, meanwhile, felt a headache coming on. It was like their roles had suddenly reversed—he was supposed to be the adult, while Bai Ze and Taotie were just two overgrown children fighting for attention.
It had been a long day filled with too many emotional blows. After a moment’s hesitation, Lu Congxing finally agreed to the Director’s suggestion.
Though it was called a “bureau,” the Bureau of Supernatural Affairs had everything—fully equipped facilities, vast space, and even permanent residents. Many demons lived there full-time, and it was one of the few places where humans and malevolent ghosts absolutely couldn’t enter.
All the things He Zhouyan had been planning to say—his carefully prepared words of comfort (or manipulation)—ended up completely useless.
Because the Director had given them two separate rooms for the night.
. . . . .
The next morning, at dawn, Lu Congxing suddenly received a text message.
Lin Yudan, after all, was a well-known painter with considerable social influence. He pulled every string he had to get Lu Congxing’s phone number and sent him an invitation.
He chose the meeting place, and Lu Congxing set it as the entrance of the Bureau of Supernatural Affairs.
To humans, the Bureau appeared as just a large office building. Only upon entering could one see the hidden world inside — though unfortunately, humans couldn’t enter.
Lu Congxing had thought Lin Yudan was coming to ask him about Danghu’s whereabouts.
But instead, he saw Lin Yudan standing there with a suitcase.
When he saw Lu Congxing, Lin Yudan took off his sunglasses and gave a faint smile. “I’m here to say goodbye—on behalf of my lover. You said you were his friend. We’re about to go see many sights and visit many places. We probably won’t be coming back.”
Lu Congxing’s throat tightened. “You’re not painting anymore?”
The suitcase didn’t look like it could fit a canvas.
Lin Yudan just smiled without answering. He seemed normal now — more normal than the cold and gloomy man he’d been before.
Lu Congxing blinked. “You’re going alone?”
Lin Yudan looked at him like he’d said something strange. “What are you talking about? Of course, I’m going with my lover.”
For a moment, Lu Congxing thought he’d gone insane. But then again, Lin Yudan looked so calm—calm enough to make it seem like the person he used to be was the one who had gone mad, and now he had simply returned to himself.
Seeing the doubt in his eyes, Lin Yudan chuckled, raised a hand, and touched his right eye. “Look, he’s right here.”
His eye teared up from the touch, but he acted like it was nothing, turned around, and walked off, pulling his suitcase behind him.
It wasn’t until his figure was nearly swallowed up by traffic that Lu Congxing snapped out of it.
His expression was complicated. Of course… how could you not recognize your own partner, the one who slept beside you every night?
The truth was, he’d known everything all along.
Just then, He Zhouyan’s view of Lin Yudan shifted slightly. Holding the cub’s hand, he toyed with it and commented, “At least he’s a man after all.”
The reason he had always looked down on Lin Yudan before was because of his refusal to admit the truth.
He couldn’t admit that his lover had died because of him—so he fell half-mad, feigning deafness, pretending to himself that it was just betrayal.
The defeated dog had finally found the courage to lick its wounds.
Lu Congxing felt a light scratch against the palm of his hand. He tried to pull away, but couldn’t—so he let him hold it.
The next second, a furious shout of disbelief exploded from behind them.
Taotie, using the loudest voice of his life, roared in shock and heartbreak:
“Bai! Ze!”
Author’s note:
The family has finally realized their precious cabbage has been stolen by a pig.