Reborn a day later, I emptied my enemy's possessions beforehand.

"Where—where is this?" Zhang Lijuan also stood up. She was stunned by the sight of the living room, her voice filled with terror.

"How did we get here? This isn't our home, is it?"

Zhou Dongsheng was calmer than her.

He walked to the wall and reached out to touch the wallpaper.

That was the one Zhang Lijuan chose two years ago. It had a light gray base with fine, dark patterns on it. She spent a long time choosing before finally deciding on it.

He never paid much attention to such trivial matters as home decoration, but he recognized the pattern of the wallpaper because Zhang Lijuan had mentioned it to him no less than ten times.

"It's our house." Zhou Dongsheng's voice was muffled as his fingers slid down the wallpaper. "The wallpaper is ours."

Zhang Lijuan also recognized the wallpaper.

Her lips trembled even more violently, and her voice rose sharply, echoing back and forth in the empty living room:

"Where are our things? The sofa? The TV? The coffee table? How come they're all gone? Were we robbed?"

Zhou Dongsheng didn't answer. Suddenly, he thought of something and rushed towards the bedroom.

The bedroom door was half open. He rushed in, then seemed to be nailed to the doorway.

The bedroom was also empty.

The bed was gone, the wardrobe was gone, the bedside table was gone, the lamp was gone, and the curtains had been ripped off the Roman rod, which hung crookedly on the wall, bare and empty.

Only the marks left by the bed legs remained on the ground; not even a single hair was left.

What drove Zhou Dongsheng to the brink of despair was his computer.

The custom-made computer desk was gone, along with the high-performance computer he'd spent tens of thousands of yuan to build—

The i9 processor, the 4090 graphics card, the liquid cooling, the curved ultrawide screen—all gone.

The mechanical keyboard is gone, the gaming mouse is gone, the headphones are gone, even the mousepad is gone.

That spot is now empty, with only a few holes in the power socket remaining, stark and gaping, as if mocking him.

"Where's my computer?!"

Zhou Dongsheng's voice was loud and shrill, like a cat whose tail had been stepped on.

He rushed to that spot, squatted down and touched the ground, then stood up and looked around, as if the computer would grow legs and run to another corner by itself.

His face flushed crimson, the veins in his neck bulged, and the wounds looked even more gruesome against his congested skin. His voice trembled.

"My computer cost tens of thousands! I relied on it for gaming! Gone! All gone!"

Zhang Lijuan rushed in after him, her reaction even faster than Zhou Dongsheng's—she ran straight to her dressing table, which was empty.

She went to her computer desk, but it was empty.

Although her computer wasn't as expensive as Zhou Dongsheng's, it still cost over ten thousand yuan. The pink case and white monitor were specially chosen by her to match the style of her bedroom.

"Mine is gone too!" Zhang Lijuan's voice was sharp and shrill, and tears were already welling up in her eyes.

Her hand gestured in mid-air, as if grasping at something that didn't exist.

"And my cosmetics! La Mer, La Prairie, Helena Rubinstein, all gone! I'd been saving them up for so long!"

The two of them ran around the empty room like headless flies.

The second bedroom, study, kitchen, and bathroom—every room was the same—empty.

The bed and wardrobe in the second bedroom are gone, the desk and bookshelf in the study are gone, the refrigerator and cabinets in the kitchen are gone, and the toilet and sink in the bathroom are gone.

Even the dish soap and garbage bags in the cabinet under the kitchen sink were taken away.

Zhou Dongsheng stood at the kitchen doorway, looking at the bare walls and the empty spaces left where appliances used to be, and felt completely drained.

His hands clenched into fists, his nails digging into his palms, and his voice was forced out through clenched teeth, each word sounding like a roar:

"Who did this?!"

Zhang Lijuan stood behind him, her arms wrapped around her shoulders, her face still wet with tears.

Her voice wasn't loud, but her tone was as firm as stating a physical law, each word carrying weight:

"Who else could it be but your father? Only he has been here."

We fell asleep after he arrived, and when we woke up, this is what happened.

He's disappeared now; it must have been him.

Zhou Dongsheng's face twitched.

He opened his mouth, his voice carrying a hollowness he himself was unaware of:

"Impossible... The old man has always been very kind to me, why would he do this? Has he gone mad?"

And how could he move so much stuff all by himself? It would take several large trucks to haul all this stuff from our house! How could he do it all by himself?

"How would I know how he moved it!" Zhang Lijuan's voice suddenly rose, and her eyes reddened again.

"Anyway, it was him! Think about it, who else came to our house today besides him? And don't you think the old man was acting a bit strange today?"

Zhou Dongsheng wanted to say something, his lips moved a few times, but in the end he didn't say anything.

"Call the police!" Zhang Lijuan suddenly said, "Call the police right now! Let the police arrest him!"

"Okay, I'll call the police right now!"

Zhou Dongsheng subconsciously reached into his pocket—it was empty.

He then touched the other pockets, which were also empty.

He turned around in place, looked at the bare ground, and realized his phone was gone.

His voice began to tremble again: "My phone is gone."

Zhang Lijuan also reached into the pocket of her nightgown—nightgowns don't have pockets.

She searched the bedroom floor again, but found nothing.

Her face turned even paler, and her voice betrayed a deep despair:

"Mine's gone too... the charger's gone too... everything's gone..."

Zhou Dongsheng thought for a moment and said:

"It's okay, we can call the police even without a cell phone. Just drive to the police station and talk to the officers."

Zhang Lijuan nodded, and the two of them went out together.

The motion-activated lights in the corridor came on, casting a stark white light on their two disheveled figures.

Zhou Dongsheng's T-shirt was tattered to shreds, and Zhang Lijuan was wearing a wrinkled nightgown; the two looked like survivors who had just escaped from an accident scene.

They walked to the elevator, pressed the button, and the elevator doors opened.

Go inside and go downstairs.

The mirror in the elevator reflected the images of two people—

Zhou Dongsheng glanced at himself, but couldn't bear to look at himself any longer, so he turned his head away.

Once on the first floor, I exited the elevator, walked through the lobby, and arrived at the entrance to the underground parking garage.

The underground parking garage was lit, the fluorescent lights were humming, and various vehicles were parked in rows of parking spaces.

Zhou Dongsheng walked to Zone C, where he remembered that his BMW 5 Series was parked in parking space number 12.

Parking space number 12 is empty.

There were only dust tracks left by tires on the ground, an irregular circle that looked like an open mouth.

Zhang Lijuan ran to parking space number 13 in section B—the spot where her Mercedes-Benz C-Class was parked.

It's empty too.

There was only dust and air.