Scene 1: Eric’s Office – The Missing Man
“I don’t understand why you’re so worried, Mingze.” Eric’s voice was calm, but his eyes held me like steel clamps across the polished mahogany desk. Tao hadn’t shown up for nearly two weeks. No one in the office seemed bothered — that silence alone had gnawed at me enough to bring it up.
“It’s been nearly two weeks,” I said. “That’s long enough to be concerned.”
Eric leaned back, fingers steepled. “I am concerned. Tao never applied for leave, never spoke to me. He simply vanished. For someone so new, he left little behind.”
At that moment Tao’s last words flared through me — Take care of my daughter. And with them, Ichika’s face, fragile and luminous.
“No,” I muttered. “He didn’t say anything to me either.”
“Then the police will have to manage it.” Eric rose, moving toward the vast wall of glass that framed his private Zen garden. Perfectly raked gravel, still stones, a single maple tree clinging to late summer leaves. It was beauty constructed to soothe — but to me, it felt like a stage set hiding something rotten.
“The police?” I echoed.
“Yes,” he said without turning. “They’ve been on my case since last week. Someone filed a report.”
The silence pressed in. I felt the office shrink around me, the glass walls not windows but cages. My palms dampened.
Eric pivoted slowly, studying me. “You look pale, Mingze. Like a man who knows more than he’s saying.”
“I just… it’s the weight of it, that’s all.”
He stepped closer, lowering his voice. “Weight can collapse a structure if the foundation is weak. And right now, the police are looking for cracks.” His gaze narrowed. “For your sake, I hope you’re not one of them.”
A smile tugged at his lips — not warmth, but pressure, like the first groan of timber under strain.
The Verandah – Cracks in the Relationship
“Your father hasn’t been to work in five days, Ichika,” I said, the words heavier than I intended. “And the last time I saw him… he had a black eye.”
Her face drained. “Wǒ de bàba! Why didn’t you tell me?” She paced across the verandah, the old planks creaking under her quick steps. Each groan of wood felt like a warning.
“I thought he was protecting you from something,” I said. “It wasn’t my place.”
“But he’s my father, Mingze!”
“And what would you have done? Thrown yourself into danger? You’d only have made things worse.”
She spun, eyes sharp. “Yes, because this—” she swept her hand at the empty night beyond the railing— “is so much better, right?”
I felt my control fracture. “Don’t act self-righteous, Ichika. You lied to me. You said you ran away, when you knew he sent you here. What else aren’t you telling me?”
Her breath hitched. “Mingze, stop—please. I’m sorry.”
“Your feelings for me?” My voice was raw. “Were those lies too?”
Tears welled, but she shook her head violently. “No!”
Her defiance crumbled. She sank down against the post, her shoulders shaking, the mask she wore every day cracking apart. For a moment, she was like shattered porcelain — delicate fragments no one dared touch.
I knelt beside her, gathering the pieces in my arms. “It’s okay,” I whispered into the crown of her hair. “We’ll find him. I won’t let this fall apart.”
The night hummed around us, cicadas hidden in the dark rafters above. I cupped her face, her skin damp with tears, and she leaned in. Our lips met — not escape, not triumph, but a seal. An imperfect joining, like two broken beams braced together, holding fast against collapse.
Scene 3: Tao’s House – The Silent Façade
I had planned to pass by Tao’s house after work. My conversation with Eric had piqued my interest again, and I needed to see for myself. The problem was getting his address — our company policy treated personal information like a vault.
But every vault has a weak seam.
Shua was ours. Our resident secretary with a voice that carried through walls and a well-known weakness: egg tarts. “If you ever want me to do anything, just get me dàntǎ!” she’d once shouted across the office. I’d tested her claim and, sure enough, the slip of paper with Tao’s address had landed in my hand like it was nothing.
I knew I wasn’t the first. Some of the guys had tested her “egg tart theory” in other ways — whispers in the break room suggested that both her appetite and her tongue were easy to tempt. Eric, our boss, certainly had.
And so, armed with her loose lips and my own guilt, I drove.
I parked a block from Tao’s address, the Haval’s engine ticking into silence. The street was narrow, flanked by houses that pressed close together like wary neighbors whispering secrets. Tao’s place sat among them, its façade neat but stiff, as if standing at attention. The shutters were closed, walls pale and blank — a face refusing to speak.
I thought about knocking, but the idea snagged at me. If the police had been here, they’d have left their fingerprints on the silence. Instead, I reclined the seat, sunglasses still on though the light was fading, and let the house watch me while I watched it.
Time thickened. The verandah cast long shadows across the yard, cutting the lawn into sharp angles. The structure seemed to fold inward, its geometry holding something it didn’t want to release. My stomach tightened, mirroring the taut lines of the eaves.
A single thought hammered in me: What had Tao been protecting? And why had he trusted me to carry it?
Then—
A sharp knock rattled the glass beside my face.
I jolted upright. In the reflection of the window, I caught the distorted shape of a figure leaning in. The house loomed behind them, silent, complicit, as if it had invited this interruption.
Lives Between Walls 
What do you think about this?