7 years ago, at a gold-domed temple in Vietnam.
Gunshots interrupted the peaceful chanting, and the people in the main hall panicked, scattering amidst the rain of bullets.
The servant in charge of looking after Huo Yan was killed by a stray bullet. When she, in a moment of desperation, maneuvered the wheelchair backward, attempting to hide behind the Buddha statue, the wheel got caught on a corpse, stopping her progress.
Bang! Bang!
The gunshots drew closer. By the time she managed to move past the corpse, a shadow suddenly fell over her—a man in black had reached the doorway, his gun pointed straight at her.
That day was her 18th birthday, celebrated at the temple, and she had never touched a gun.
It was that very oversight that gave the parasitic worms hiding in the shadows an opportunity.
Staring at the smoking muzzle, Huo Yan’s breath stopped. She thought, perhaps she really would die on her 18th birthday.
Bang!
A gunshot rang out, but the bullet didn’t hit her. Looking closely, the tall man in black was shot in the knee. As he fell to his knees, he spun around and fired several shots behind him.
Seeing this, Huo Yan immediately pressed the wheelchair’s button and hurriedly went through the Diamond Hall, fleeing deeper into the temple.
She didn’t know why a simple coming-of-age ceremony had suddenly brought so many assassins. Nor did she know who was behind it all. Her thoughts were like the long, dark, and gloomy corridor before her, and she felt like a worm hiding under a rock, never seeing the light.
It was at that moment that a pair of hands saved her.
The hands were skin and bone, and they shoved her into a dense patch of irises in the courtyard. The irises were tall and thick, just covering their heads.
But what was strange was that her rescuer was a child, probably only eleven or twelve years old, wearing a black assault jacket and a black mask, frighteningly thin.
Even more frighteningly, her right hand was broken.
The palm was bent at an unnatural angle, and the wrist was bloody, as if it had been soaked in tomato sauce. A section of white bone was visible through the crimson, blurred wound.
Huo Yan removed the silk scarf from her neck. “Let’s wrap it up.”
The girl merely looked up. The mask covered half her face, and her eyes, framed by messy hair, were particularly sharp, like the pointed fangs of a wolf:
“Don’t speak.”
What happened next was something Huo Yan would never forget—the girl rushed to the overturned wheelchair outside the iris patch, grasped the wheel with her left hand, but couldn’t lift it in one go. She then gripped it with her broken right hand, twisted her small body in the opposite direction, and used her weight and arm strength to right the wheelchair and push it into the concealed irises.
The entire process was effortless, numb, and practiced.
It seemed that the agonizingly broken wrist was nothing more than a wooden support.
“You hide here and don’t make a sound.”
The girl watched the courtyard entrance through the gaps in the grass, half-crouching as she warned Huo Yan.
“They’re chasing me. I’ll draw them away. After 20 minutes, you can call for help.”
Huo Yan stared at the young girl before her, her curiosity intensifying—what kind of person could remain so calm at the age of eleven or twelve in the face of a life-or-death crisis? And, seemingly without pain nerves, move a heavy object expressionlessly.
Past memories flooded back, and Huo Yan blinked twice, a heavy gesture that temporarily dispelled the memories. Her gaze landed on the adult woman in front of her.
“Was this hand of yours broken before?”
She urgently wanted to know.
Lan Su’s lips were tight. To survive, she was impersonating the second miss of the Lan family. The second miss was a young lady who had been confined to a sickbed for 11 years, unlike her, who had endured hardships and was covered in scars.
“I don’t know,” Lan Su turned her head, looking sideways at the person across the desk.
“You don’t know?”
“I was in a coma for 11 years, and I don’t remember many things. It’s possible I was injured during that accident, but it’s been too long, and I can’t recall.”
She realized that the 11-year coma was her weak point, but if used well, it could also be her trump card for muddying the waters. As long as she attributed everything to those 11 years, she could entirely absolve herself.
Buzz…
The wheelchair wheels rolled over the floor, emitting a faint mechanical whirring sound, like a red viper circling in the desert, hissing and extending its sharp tongue.
Huo Yan stopped in front of Lan Su. The height of the wheelchair was above the sofa, and the light from behind cast her shadow over Lan Su.
Yet, the shadow only covered up to her nose bridge. Her calm and lucid eyes, however, remained as clear as ever.
“Miss Lan.”
Huo Yan spoke, her voice carrying a slight warning this time.
“I hope you understand the consequences of deceiving me.”
She tried to use intimidation to make Lan Su tell the truth, even if the person in front of her had only one chance in ten thousand of being the girl from back then.
Lan Su’s upper body was initially leaning forward. Hearing this, her spine slowly straightened. She raised her eyes and looked into Huo Yan’s with frank composure.
Yes, she wasn’t afraid.
“Everyone who lied to you is dead. Who should I ask?”
Huo Yan hadn’t expected her to say that. In fact, since their marriage, Lan Su had been submissive, never making any move to cross the line. According to her usual behavior, she should have denied it, saying “I’m not deceiving you,” or tried her best to explain her broken hand.
She wouldn’t be confrontational like she was now.
It seemed she had indeed touched this person’s limit.
Huo Yan nodded with interest, the lenses reflecting a bright light. She countered:
“Am I that terrifying?”
“At least your previous three wives died.”
“Do you think I killed them?”
“I never said that.”
“But you thought it.”
“I am not a police officer.”
“Correct.”
The rapid, dense exchange of words was like bullets firing, with neither person hardly taking a breath. They were in direct opposition, eyes locked on eyes, one fierce, one resolute, like a reef standing firm in a storm, unshaken yet witnessing the towering waves.
The waves washed up white spray, the water columns soaring ten meters before crashing down, retreating with the tide.
The point where the dust settled was Huo Yan’s hawk-like gaze and the word “Correct” on her lips.
The eyes behind the lenses narrowed slightly, as if she had found something more interesting than a seashell on the beach. Her tongue traced her canine tooth, the slight pain eliciting a thrill.
She stared at Lan Su, saying word by word:
“You are my wife.”
Despite the suspicion, concealment, and calculation, they were now on the same boat.
Buzz… buzz…
Huo Yan’s phone vibrated.
Lan Su agreed that she and Huo Yan were essentially very similar in some ways. For instance, neither of them set ringtones for their phones; calls, texts, and WeChat messages were all set to vibrate.
“Hello?”
Huo Yan answered the call.
It was Ai Li calling from home: “President Huo, when will you be returning today?”
Huo Yan liked directness; whether at home or the office, her subordinates always got straight to the point, never exchanging pleasantries or elaborate introductions.
“I have a meeting this afternoon, ending at four. Is there something you need?”
“The old manor just called. They said the Madam wants to come and pick you up, asking you to bring Miss Lan along to visit the old manor.”
The old manor was the Huo family’s ancestral home, a place full of scheming and calculation.
The Madam was Huo Yan’s nominal mother, who resided at the Huo family’s old manor.
The reason she was “nominal” was because Huo Yan was an illegitimate daughter, and this Madam was her father’s third wife.
“Tell her I’ll take Lan Su back tomorrow. She doesn’t need to come and pick me up.”
She didn’t want to see that woman.
“But… the Madam is already on her way,” Ai Li tried to keep her tone calm.
Tick… Tock…
The clock turned a few notches, and Huo Yan made a decision:
“Then let her wait. I’ll return tonight.”
“Understood.”
Hanging up the phone, Huo Yan turned her wheelchair around and looked down at Lan Su:
“Something has come up. Don’t go back yet.”
Lan Su pursed her lips. She wasn’t foolish; she could generally guess the reason from the tone of Huo Yan’s phone call. Most likely, an unwelcome guest, whom Huo Yan intensely disliked, was coming to the house.
She knew she didn’t have the ability to face someone Huo Yan couldn’t handle alone back home.
But she also lacked the ability to spend the entire day alone with Huo Yan in this confined space.
Buzz…
The wheelchair rolled across the floor, moving at a steady speed to the desk, where Huo Yan pressed Xu Panpan’s internal line:
“Put aside what you’re doing for now. Take Lan Su out for a walk.”
The hand gripping her skirt paused, then let go unexpectedly.
Lan Su felt that Huo Yan probably had the ability to read minds.