Yang Wei's POV
The ride back to the Huang family compound was suffocating, the hum of the SUV's engine doing little to drown out the storm in my head. I sat in the back, Yanyan beside me, her silence louder than any accusation she could've thrown my way. Her shoulder brushed mine as the car jostled over Wuhan's uneven streets, a fleeting contact that felt both foreign and achingly familiar. My daughter. My blood. After all these years, she was here, alive, and yet the distance between us stretched wider than the ocean I'd crossed to find her.
