Ashes. A promise beyond death

Chapter 6 – Echoes of the Night

Yu Bin stirred beneath her blanket as dawn's pale light crept through the slats of her blinds. Her head throbbed, dull and heavy, as if her dreams had been fighting wars behind her eyes. She blinked slowly, sitting up in bed and pressing her fingers against her temples.

Another dreamless night—or so it seemed. But there was a heaviness in her chest, a lingering ache, as if she had cried in her sleep. Something tugged at her, just out of reach. A whisper. A face. A feeling.

"I'm sorry... it's my fault."

Her chest tightened. That phrase again. Why did it haunt her?

She shook her head and dragged herself into the bathroom. Cold water splashed across her face, and the mirror showed her a woman looking slightly worse for wear—dark circles under her eyes and a weariness etched into her expression.

I’ve really got to stop drinking, she thought. The wine last night had come with too many memories she didn’t have. Or maybe she did. It was hard to explain.

She barely remembered getting home, but she had a vague impression of warmth—of being carried. A voice humming something soft. A hand brushing her hair back.

She frowned. It couldn’t have been real.

After dressing quickly in black slacks and a soft grey blouse, she pulled her coat over her shoulders and poured coffee into a travel mug. Her phone buzzed just as she grabbed her keys.

Moon: HQ. Now. New case. It’s bad.

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The precinct buzzed low with quiet activity when she arrived. Moon was already at the board, pinning up photos beside a map and sketching out a perimeter. Xian Chen sat nearby, flipping through a forensic report. He gave her a slight nod.

Yu Bin approached the board and looked at the pinned photos.

"Morning," she said. "What do we have?"

Moon handed her a folder, his face grim. "Two bodies found in Lake Ming. Children. Early this morning."

Yu Bin opened the file and froze.

The photographs were cold, harsh snapshots of the scene. Two skeletons, tied back to back with thick rope, partially submerged and silt-stained.

One had obvious leg fractures—jagged breaks that suggested deliberate trauma. The other was older, with rib and skull damage.

Her throat tightened.

"They were tied together like... like a message," she muttered.

"Or a punishment," Xian Chen added quietly.

Moon spoke. "The younger—likely around eight. The other, maybe twelve. They’ve been in the lake long enough for full skeletonization, but recent storms stirred the water and exposed them. A hiker spotted one of the skulls and called it in."

"Any missing persons?"

"Nothing matching the timeline or profiles so far," Moon said. "No DNA matches yet either. If they were undocumented or wards of the state... we may be looking for ghosts."

Yu Bin stared at the photos, fury simmering under her skin.

"We need to find out who they were," she said firmly. "Start with school records, hospitals, foster agencies. Someone had to have seen them."

Moon nodded. "Already underway."

The precinct door opened quietly.

A woman stepped in—tall, poised, with a press badge swinging from a lanyard. Her long dark braid hung over one shoulder, and her eyes scanned the room with sharp efficiency before landing on Yu Bin.

"Yu Bin," she greeted, calm and composed.

"Bao Fang," Yu Bin replied, slightly surprised. "You're quick."

Bao Fang smiled lightly. "The bigger the tragedy, the faster the whispers."

Yu Bin raised a brow. "Five minutes. That’s all you get."

Bao Fang’s eyes flicked to the board. Her face darkened slightly as she absorbed the details.

"Children," she murmured, her voice quieter now. "What kind of world does this to its young?"

Yu Bin softened. "We were hoping you’d heard something. Word on the street?"

Bao Fang hesitated, then nodded once. "Maybe. There’s a name that keeps surfacing—a man who ran a place for kids. Not a shelter. Not really. Place burned down three months ago."

"Do you have a name?" Moon asked.

"Not yet. But I’m working on it. I’ll send what I find."

"Thanks," Yu Bin said.

Before she could say more, Xian Chen stepped forward, holding out a cup of coffee to Bao Fang. "Still no sleep, I assume?"

Bao Fang took it without question, their eyes meeting for just a moment too long.

"You know me," she said, sipping.

"Always have."

Yu Bin looked between them curiously. There was something in the way they interacted—like old friends with too many unspoken memories between them.

Bao Fang turned back to Yu Bin. "Be careful with this case. There’s something wrong with it. I can feel it."

Yu Bin nodded. "We’ll tread carefully."

Bao Fang turned to go but paused beside Xian Chen. She didn’t say anything else, but when she looked at him, there was a quiet familiarity—like an unspoken truth neither of them dared put into words. Then she left.

Yu Bin watched her go, feeling a small knot form in her chest. "She always seems to know more than she says."

"It’s a gift," Xian Chen murmured. Then added, after a pause, "And a curse."

Back at her desk, Yu Bin laid out her notes. No dreams haunted her now. No memories stirred. Only the faces of two nameless children pulled her forward.

"Moon, check school withdrawals in the area over the last six months. And see if there were any complaints or fire reports from that so-called shelter. Xian Chen, I want every detail on that area near the lake. Soil samples, nearby trails, anything."

Moon saluted. "On it."

Xian Chen’s gaze lingered on her for a moment before he nodded and left silently.

The clock on the wall ticked slowly. A quiet chill lingered in the room.

You don’t know who you are, Bao Fang had once said to someone long ago. But one day, your heart will remember.

Yu Bin didn’t remember. She didn’t even suspect.

But her heart did ache. And perhaps, for now, that was enough.

She stared at the photos again.

I’ll find you, she whispered to the bones of the children. I’ll make them pay.

And the work began.

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