That afternoon five years ago, the air was heavy as lead. Dark clouds pressed low over the city, as if something enormous was brewing in the sky—so heavy it looked like the sky itself might fall.
My adoptive older brother, Li Junxi, and I had just finished school. Our backpacks were still slung over our shoulders, the edges of our uniforms damp with the light drizzle that had started as school ended.
Normally, we would have been picked up by a driver. But not that day. Just before dismissal, our father suddenly said he had urgent business to attend to. His usual driver, Xiao Li, had taken unexpected leave because of a family emergency—or so we were told.
Uncle Lin, another of our father's drivers, had been reassigned to him at the last minute. That left no one to pick us up.
"We can just walk home. It's no big deal," Junxi said with a grin.
But something didn't feel right. Father's sudden business trip, Xiao Li's abrupt leave, Uncle Lin being reassigned… everything seemed too coincidental. So coincidental, it chilled me to the bone.
Junxi didn't overthink it and headed down our usual shortcut—an alley we'd taken countless times on the way home.
Halfway through, a silver-grey van suddenly screeched to a halt in front of us. The tires shrieked against the pavement.
"Zeyang, watch out!" Junxi yanked me back, but it was already too late.
The van door slid open in a flash. Several men in black jumped out, their faces obscured by dark masks, only cold, expressionless eyes visible. Their movements were fast—almost rehearsed. Precise. Clean. Efficient.
We didn't even have time to scream before we were dragged into the van. It was a windowless, sealed vehicle. The door slammed shut behind us with a heavy bang, cutting off our last connection to the outside world.
I struggled. Kicked. Screamed. It was useless. Strong arms pinned me down. Beside me, Junxi fought back with all his strength, but he too was quickly subdued. He called my name, but I was already so terrified I could barely think.
This was a carefully planned kidnapping.
They said nothing. Just swiftly and expertly searched us—phones, earbuds, student IDs—even the house key hidden in the lining of my backpack was found and taken.
Our phones were shut off and tossed into a metal box. My earbuds were yanked apart. They clearly knew we might be carrying trackers—everything was handled with cold precision. Not a single unnecessary word was spoken.
The van started moving, speeding toward some unknown destination. The sounds of the street faded behind us. All I could hear was the harsh rhythm of my breathing… and Junxi's voice in the darkness, steady and close:
"Zeyang, don't be afraid. I'm here."