Unexpected Second Chance at Love

Chapter 974: The silence returned, heavy and absolute.

Seconds turned into minutes, then hours, and still, there was no sign of Yue Ling. Her whereabouts remained unknown. After countless failed attempts to reach her, Liu Shan finally called in Alpha Team to help find their missing boss.

In the study, her assistant sat at Yue Ling’s desk, working diligently on her computer. Across the room, Xu Long occupied the couch, similarly focused on his laptop.

Every so often, both assistants would glance at Lu Tian. The usually composed man wore a calm, unreadable expression—but his constant pacing made it clear: he was anything but calm. The sudden disappearance of his wife had left him deeply shaken.

”Boss,” Xu Long spoke nervously, hoping to ease the growing tension.

He had worked for Lu Tian for many years and had rarely seen him this unsettled—maybe once or twice since Yue Ling entered his life—but never to this extent.

”Don’t worry. We’ll find her.”

His attempt at reassurance earned him a sharp glare from his boss. Xu Long quickly ducked his head and returned to his work, fingers flying over the keyboard.

Lu Tian stopped pacing and stood silently in the center of the room. His breathing was labored, though his expression remained carefully composed. After a long moment, he rubbed a hand down his face, walked over to the desk, and sat down. Pulling his laptop toward him, he began to type.

”Leave no stone unturned,” he ordered, voice cold and steady. ”If you have to turn the entire country upside down—do it.”

He said nothing more, diving into his work and unleashing his formidable hacking skills.

Liu Shan’s expression grew grim as he increased his typing speed, eyes scanning streams of code in search of the one person who meant everything to him.

Xu Long did the same, relaying the order to the rest of Wolf Team. They needed to find their boss lady—fast.

No one knew if she was safe. Time was slipping away, and the unknown gnawed at them.

Xu Long glanced at Lu Tian again. For a fleeting second, he caught something in the man’s eyes—devastation. The ruthless tycoon, feared in the business world, now sat with beads of sweat gathering on his brow.

After hours of tearing Imperial apart, Lu Tian felt his heart sink deeper into the pit of his stomach. No matter where he searched, no matter how many systems he hacked or networks he combed through, there was still no trace of his wife.

It was as if she had vanished into thin air.

Even with Wolf Team and Alpha Team mobilized, every update they called in left him with nothing but frustration. The silence from Yue Ling’s end was deafening.

Just when he thought he’d hit another dead end, her name flashed across the stream of code on his monitor.

His hands flew to the keyboard. He slammed a key to freeze the scrolling page, the sudden action snapping both assistants’ attention toward him.

His eyes were bloodshot, face pale—like a man running on fumes, driven only by desperation.

”I found her,” he said hoarsely.

Liu Shan stared at him from behind his own screen, relief washing over his face. He leaned back in his chair, exhaling a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding.

”Where is she?” he asked quietly, running a hand through his hair, eyes closing for a moment as the tension in the room pulsed around them.

Lu Tian didn’t answer right away. His eyes rapidly scanned the code, then—without a word—he stood up and stormed out of the room.

”Boss!”

Xu Long called after him.

By the time he reached the hallway, he heard the front door slam and the distant roar of an engine starting.

Xu Long groaned and pulled at his hair in frustration. No one could blame Lu Tian for reacting this way—not when the woman he loves was missing.

All he could do now was go back and figure out what his boss had seen.

Back in the study, Liu Shan stood behind Lu Tian’s desk, eyes locked on the monitor.

Xu Long walked over, and his brows furrowed at what he read.

”She booked... an economy flight? To City Z?” he muttered. ”Why would Boss Lady go there?”

He turned to Liu Shan for answers, but what greeted him was a look of quiet devastation.

”Shan?”

Xu Long’s voice softened.

”Why do you look like... like your world’s about to fall apart? This is a good thing. We found her.”

Liu Shan didn’t speak at first. His fists clenched tightly at his sides.

”She went to her family home,” he finally said, his voice low.

Xu Long frowned. That should have been a good thing, right? Yue Ling returned to her family after the news of Grandfather Ji’s declining health made perfect sense. She needed space. Time.

But then it hit him.

He froze, eyes widening. The realization burned through him.

Her family...

”Shit,” he whispered, cursing under his breath.

Without wasting another second, he pulled out his phone and called Lu Tian. He didn’t know if his boss had put the pieces together, but he had to be sure.

”Boss,” he said urgently. ”She went to her family home... Alright. I’ll have the jet ready for you.”

While Imperial was thrown into chaos searching for her, Yue Ling stepped out of a cab in front of a towering gate framed by stone walls. She ignores the driver’s curious look and pays the fee.

She stood silently in the rain, drops sliding down her face like quiet tears, as she walked up to the tall, dark gates.

The gates creaked open automatically, as if recognizing her presence. She stepped inside.

Though clouded in a daze, her eyes followed the stone path she knew by heart.

Eventually, she came to a stop in front of a two-story white mansion.

Though all the lights were off, the moonlight cast a gentle glow across its facade, making it look like something out of a dream.

Her gaze lingered on the French-style home with its turreted front, her heart pounding with a mix of emotions too heavy to name.

This was her family home—the home she hadn’t set foot in for three years.

Though no one had lived here, she had ensured it was kept clean and preserved like a fragile memory.

Her eyes misted, but she willed the tears not to fall. One step. Then another. Until she reached the front door.

The facial scanner her paternal grandfather had installed long ago lit up. It recognized her instantly, and the lock clicked open.

Her hand hesitated at the doorknob before she slowly turned it. As the door creaked open, the lights came on automatically, illuminating a space filled with silence and time.

The only greeting was the faint lingering scent of the mansion—familiar, but now tinged with the damp smell of rain.

She closes her eyes for a second as memories from the past come flooding in, only to disappear when she opens her eyes again.

There was no one else. Just cloth-covered furniture that had remained untouched since the last time she was here.

Her tear-filled eyes wandered over every familiar feature. She stepped inside and, with each movement forward, her hand gently pulled at the cloth covers, letting them fall to the cold floor. Her fingers grazed the walls, retracing old memories as she walked the hallways.

She made her way to the back of the mansion, stopping in front of a set of glass double doors. With a soft push, she opened them.

Beyond lay a long, exposed brick hallway. The night sky poured in through the floor-to-ceiling windows on either side, guiding her steps.

At the end of the hall was another set of glass doors. She reached them and slowly pulled them open.

Inside was a room filled with shelves, each one lined with pots and planters. Herbs of every kind, carefully arranged.

This was her harabeoji’s greenhouse.

Moonlight streamed in through the glass ceiling, washing the room in a silvery glow.

The herbs were still green and thriving. The scent of medical herbs filled the air, fresh and familiar.

Then, her breath caught in her throat.

A figure stood before her.

An elderly man turned slowly, meeting her eyes. A warm smile spread across his face, and he held out his hand to her, inviting her forward.

”My child, why are you sad?” he asked gently.

Her lower lip quivered as she took a shaky step forward, her hand reaching for his.

”Harabeoji...”

For a brief moment, she could still see him standing there, smiling.

That warm, comforting presence. That outstretched hand.

Her harabeoji.

But just like that—

The vivid image of him was gone like the wind.

As if he had never been there at all.

And the silence returned, heavy and absolute.

The tears she had held back spilled down her cheeks. She frantically looked around the room, her heart shattering with each second of silence.

The lush herbs she had just seen... were now dried, wilted. Lifeless.

Reality returned, cruel and unrelenting.

”Harabeoji?”

Her voice trembled as she searched the empty greenhouse.

”Harabeoji?!!”

She called out again and again, but there was no reply—only silence.

Her knees gave out, and she sank to the ground, staring blankly at the floor.

A hollow laugh escaped her lips, followed by a sob that cut deep.

”What did you expect?” she whispered bitterly. ”He’s no longer here...”

She wrapped her arms around herself, her body curling in, a futile attempt to contain the grief.

”Why?!!!” she screamed into the air.

”Why him?!”

Her shoulders shook violently, her cries echoing in the glass room. She tilted her head back, eyes searching the black sky above.

”Six...” she whispered, her voice barely audible.

She sat on her knees, a lone tear sliding down her cheek as she forced a bitter smile.

”You’ve already taken six important people from me... Why are you taking another one?”

Her breath caught. A humorless laugh escaped her lips.

”Six... Isn’t that enough already?”

There she sat—alone, fragile, and broken—her tear-streaked face turned toward the sky. The rain continued tapping gently on the glass, mimicking the tears that wouldn’t stop falling.

”He’s all I have left...”

But no matter how many questions she asked, silence was her only answer.

Then, something caught her eye.

A tiny speck of white fell onto the glass above. Then another. And another.

Snow.

The first snow of the season had come to City Z.

Her sobs turned guttural, punctuated by shallow, gasping breaths. She lay down on the floor, curling into herself.

She remained curled on the greenhouse floor, her body trembling with every sob. The scent of herbs now faded, mingled with the coldness of loss and rain.

She clutched at her chest as if trying to hold her heart together.

Her gaze lifted once more to the glass ceiling above, where snowflakes silently kissed the windows—so gentle, so indifferent to her pain.

And finally, she let it all out—the grief, the helplessness, the sorrow she’d kept buried since the moment she learned her grandfather’s health was fading.