The warning about the man with the silver ring sent ripples through Lin Xiaoxia’s mind, distorting every interaction. Now, she noticed silver rings everywhere—on delivery men, strangers, even a barista’s finger glinting under café lights. It was absurd. Paranoid. But she couldn’t stop.
Xu Yuan watched her with quiet concern. He’d brought her back to the café where they’d first met, sunlight pooling on the same wooden table.
"Remember how you glared at me when I spilled your coffee?" He nudged her gently. "Like an angry kitten."
She forced a smile. His warmth was a tangible thing, solid and real—unlike the future’s shadowy warnings. Could she really abandon this for a ghost’s prophecy?
Then—
The door chimed.
A man in a black trench coat stepped inside, the brim of his hat casting half his face in shadow. But his left hand—there it was. A silver ring, stark against his skin, its design unnervingly simple.
Xiaoxia’s breath hitched. Him.
The man paused, as if sensing her stare. When he lifted his head, his lips curled into something between a smirk and a threat. His gaze lingered—just a second too long—before he turned to order.
She gripped Xu Yuan’s wrist.
"Xiaoxia?" Xu Yuan frowned. "You’re shaking."
"Just… cold." Her voice barely held.
But her eyes stayed locked on the stranger. He took a seat nearby, stirring his coffee with deliberate slowness. When he glanced up again, his stare was a blade—sharp, calculating.
A silent understanding passed between them:
He knew.
And in that moment, Xiaoxia felt the threads of fate tighten.
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