Chapter 60

The supermarket lights glared harshly. Emily Smith pushed her cart through the fresh produce section.

Her fingertips brushed over the ribs in the cooler. She selected the most tender package.

Turning to the seafood area, she picked out a lively turbot fish.

The cart gradually filled up. Light soy sauce, dark soy sauce, vinegar, cooking wine... She carefully checked each condiment's expiration date.

At the checkout counter, two heavy bags of groceries weighed down her arms. She gritted her teeth as red marks appeared on her skin.

In the taxi, she watched neon lights flicker outside the window. Her phone screen lit up and dimmed—still no new messages.

Soon, the aroma of cooking filled her apartment kitchen. Sweet and sour sauce bubbled in the pan as she carefully turned the ribs, coating each piece evenly.

8:00 PM. The dining table was neatly set with five dishes and a steaming soup.

9:30 PM. She reheated the fish for the third time. Steam fogged up her glasses.

11:00 PM. She jolted awake at the table, realizing she'd dozed off. The sweet and sour ribs had cooled, their grease congealing into white patches.

3:00 AM. The master bedroom door remained still.

At dawn, she silently dumped all the food into the trash. Porcelain bowls clinked sharply against each other.

The subway car swayed. Her phone vibrated. As she read the message, her nails dug crescent-shaped marks into her palm.

"Disgusting."

She replied with a perfect smile. But her eyes burned suddenly.

Keyboards clattered in the office. She was organizing meeting minutes when the intercom lit up.

"Not necessary."

She hung up more decisively than expected.

The hospital still reeked of disinfectant. Her sister's IV drip echoed in the room. Emily peeled an apple with steady hands.

The roadside stall's spicy noodles made her eyes water. She added two spoonfuls of vinegar, then another of chili oil.

The apartment lock clicked open. The man on the balcony turned, phone still pressed to his ear.

Their gazes met and parted instantly. She closed the door softly—like a sigh.

The recording software loaded. Daniel Chen's voice came through her headphones: "Ready, Emily?"

As she pressed record, the doorknob behind her turned silently. A shadow stretched across the floor, slowly engulfing her silhouette.