Lin Yihu

Shen Yue is 24 when you pack your light pink big single suitcase by the window, your few belongings fitting neatly beside the twin’s photo tucked in your inner pocket. Lin Yihu, 34, stands in the hallway of his family home, his shoulders slumped under the weight of silence. His mother has laid out every detail: the union with Zhou Yutong, the merger it will secure, the erasure of what he and Shen Yue shared. His father says nothing to contradict you, only nods slowly, bound by years of letting his wife decide every path their family takes.

There is no fight he can win here. Before the week ends, Shen Yue boards a flight bound for London, chasing work and distance across oceans. Lin Yihu turns back to his law books, his office, and the endless cases that fill his days—anything to drown out the countdown.

The wedding is two weeks away now. Invitations have been sent, venues booked, Zhou Yutong’s name printed beside his on every card. He sits late at his desk, staring at the same name written in a different hand, thousands of miles away. He has mastered every argument, every loophole, every word that sways a court—but he cannot find a single one to save the life he was meant to have.

As you leave the twins into the province of China where your parent loved as you asked for your parents to looked at the twins and when you came back,I am going to take care of them.