The Things Left Unsaid
After that conversation, Lin Shu couldn’t stop thinking about the person who used to live in this body.
Not the version people feared or whispered about.
But the one before all of that.
The one who had once made children laugh without effort.
The one Zhao Cheng had brought into this household with trust.
Somewhere along the way, that person had broken.
And now Lin Shu was living inside what was left behind.
That thought stayed with him longer than he expected.
It didn’t fade after a day.
Or two.
It just settled somewhere deep in his chest, quiet but heavy.
Life went on anyway.
Strangely normal.
Almost stubbornly so.
Even Zhao Jun had stopped asking when officials would arrive, as if repeating the question would only make the answer worse.
Meals still had to be cooked.
Water still had to be carried.
Wood still had to be chopped.
No matter what was coming, the house refused to stop moving.
It was late afternoon when Zhao Cheng returned later than usual.
Lin Shu noticed the change the moment the gate creaked open.
Dust clung to his clothes.
And there was something dark near his sleeve.
Too familiar to ignore.
Lin Shu was on his feet before he even realized it, the chair scraping behind him.
“You’re hurt.”
Zhao Cheng glanced down at himself like it was an inconvenience.
“It’s nothing serious.”
“That is blood.”
“It doesn’t look like much.”
“That’s not the point.”
The children had already gathered.
Zhao Mei looked worried immediately.
Zhao Jun, on the other hand, looked ready to demand explanations on behalf of authority itself.
“What happened?” Zhao Jun asked.
“Nothing worth mentioning,” Zhao Cheng replied.
Which, unfortunately, meant it was absolutely worth mentioning.
Lin Shu stepped closer without thinking.
“Sit down.”
Zhao Cheng paused.
“…You’re giving me orders now?”
“Yes,” Lin Shu said without hesitation.
A brief silence followed.
Then Zhao Cheng actually sat down.
Zhao Jun looked personally offended by this development.
“He just listened,” he muttered.
Zhao Cheng didn’t even look at him.
“He becomes troublesome when he’s worried.”
Lin Shu nearly choked.
The room froze.
Even Zhao Cheng seemed to realize what he had just said a second too late.
The air shifted immediately.
Not romantic exactly.
Just… suddenly too aware of itself.
Zhao Mei found the wall extremely interesting all of a sudden.
Zhao Jun looked like he wanted to disappear from existence entirely.
“Father!” he hissed.
Lin Shu felt heat rise to his face.
Zhao Cheng, however, stayed calm.
At least on the surface.
But the faint redness at his ears betrayed him.
And Lin Shu noticed.
Which made it worse.
And somehow harder not to smile.
The wound turned out to be a cut along Zhao Cheng’s side.
Not small.
Lin Shu frowned as he cleaned it carefully.
“This isn’t minor.”
“It missed anything important.”
“That is not comforting.”
Zhao Cheng watched him for a moment.
“You sound angry.”
“I am.”
The answer came too quickly.
Silence dropped over them both for a second.
Zhao Cheng’s gaze sharpened slightly.
“Why?”
Lin Shu’s hands paused.
Because the truth was sitting too close to the surface.
Too honest.
Too exposed.
So he chose the safer answer.
“…Because if you get badly hurt, everyone here will be affected.”
A pause.
Then quieter, almost against his will:
“…And so will I.”
The room went completely still.
Zhao Jun stared like he had just witnessed something forbidden.
Zhao Mei lowered her gaze immediately.
Even the youngest child blinked in confusion, unaware of what had just shifted.
Zhao Cheng didn’t speak right away.
Just watched him.
Then, finally:
“I’ll be more careful.”
Lin Shu nodded once, focusing too hard on the bandage.
But his heartbeat didn’t settle.
Not even a little.
That night, the rain returned.
Heavy, steady, relentless against the roof tiles.
The children fell asleep early, worn out by the weather.
Lin Shu checked the windows before noticing Zhao Cheng still sitting near the lantern.
Still awake.
Still quiet.
“…Can’t sleep?” Lin Shu asked.
Zhao Cheng shook his head slightly.
Lin Shu hesitated, then sat down nearby.
For a while, neither of them spoke.
Only the rain filled the silence.
Then Zhao Cheng finally spoke.
“Officials came to town today.”
Lin Shu stiffened.
“What happened?”
“They’ve started building a case.”
“Against you?”
“Against the household.”
A cold weight settled in Lin Shu’s stomach.
Of course.
If they couldn’t reach Zhao Cheng directly, they would tighten pressure elsewhere.
Different era.
Same methods.
Then Zhao Cheng added:
“They asked about you as well.”
Lin Shu kept his expression steady.
“And?”
“Different answers,” Zhao Cheng said.
“That’s expected.”
“Some still think you’re pretending.”
Lin Shu gave a faint exhale.
Fair.
“But others say you’ve changed.”
That made him pause.
Outside, the rain softened slightly, like it was listening.
Zhao Cheng’s eyes stayed on him.
“And I realized something.”
Lin Shu looked up slowly.
“What?”
“You stopped trying to make people accept you.”
The words landed too accurately.
Because it was true.
At first, he had tried too hard.
Explaining.
Proving.
Forcing understanding.
Now…
Now he just worked.
Took care of things.
Took care of people.
Lin Shu lowered his gaze slightly.
“…This place stopped feeling temporary,” he admitted.
Silence followed.
Not heavy.
Just real.
Then Zhao Cheng spoke, quieter than before.
“Good.”