Zhao Ruoruo clung to Zhou Xizhi, wailing uncontrollably as if she had completely broken down.
Zhou Xizhi’s heart felt as though it were suffocating. He promised solemnly, “Alright, Xizhi-gege will find a way to get you out soon.”
After the visitation period ended, on her way back to the detention cell, Zhao Ruoruo smoothed the loose strands of hair at her temples, revealing a fair, delicate face. The sunlight streaming through the iron bars fell upon her features, so clean and pure—yet between her brows lurked a trace of ruthless cunning.
Everything had been an act. Even the injuries on her body were inflicted by others at her command, deliberately harsh. Only by pushing herself to the brink of harm without limits could she win Zhou Xizhi’s pity and secure an early release.
She knew Zhou Xizhi would move heaven and earth to find evidence proving her innocence. As for Yan Yi’an out there—she would only suffer a fate worse than death.
The three who came out were in low spirits. Though Zhou Xizhi’s face did not show the same grief as Liu Mei’s, his expression was as cold as ice, sending chills down anyone’s spine.
He immediately ordered Wen Xiao to contact the warden of the women’s prison. He could not tolerate Zhao Ruoruo suffering even the slightest harm.
Yan Yi’an knelt on the cobblestones in her thin trousers. Even knees of iron would have worn through by now; the chill from beneath gradually seeped through her limbs and bones—cold, hungry, numb, and aching all at once.
Butler Zhou wanted to help her up, but there were surveillance cameras in the villa. She didn’t want to implicate him, so she simply forced herself to remain upright and endure.
It wasn’t until a car horn sounded outside the villa that Yan Yi’an’s heart gradually relaxed. Could it be that she would finally be allowed to let herself off the hook…
But when Zhou Xizhi strode past her with a face like frost, the faint glimmer of hope in her heart was extinguished.
“Young Master Zhou, Miss Yan has been kneeling outside all day. Should we let her get up?”
“Uncle Zhou, I’m hungry. Have someone make me something to eat?”
Zhou Xizhi was in a foul mood.
Butler Zhou immediately sensed something and guessed to himself: Could something have happened to Miss Ruoruo? He sighed inwardly, his murky eyes glancing at the figure on the ground outside. Miss Yan was likely in for another bout of misfortune.
The man on the sofa had eyes like a wolf—fierce and piercing. Yan Yi’an instinctively felt a gaze from within fixed tightly upon her, as if it wished to tear her apart.
Until a pair of gleaming black leather shoes appeared before her, above them trouser legs swaying without a single crease—as cold and detached as their owner.
Before Yan Yi’an could raise her head, Zhou Xizhi’s hand clamped around her slender neck like a pair of pincers. It was so thin, so fragile—utterly defenseless in his grip.
Only with her eyes half-lowered did Yan Yi’an make out the fury in the man’s gaze. What madness had seized him this time?
“Tell me—what really happened with the car accident and the video back then? I asked your assistant. She said you never film personal life content, and she had no idea there was a camera in your bag.”
Blood seeped from Yan Yi’an’s knees, staining the cobblestones beneath her red. She knelt before Zhou Xizhi like a sinner seeking penance.
The colder Zhou Xizhi’s tone, the colder Yan Yi’an’s heart grew.
“The company asked artists to film more personal life content to give back to fans. I thought it was a good idea and had just started doing it. My assistant didn’t know.”
“You’re lying.”
Zhou Xizhi ground his teeth in a low voice. “Your assistant said you rarely carry a bag when you go out. Why did you happen to bring one on that particular day?”
His hand gradually tightened as he watched the woman in his grip struggle for breath, each breath more labored than the last. Whenever he thought of the bruises on Ruoruo’s body, he wished he could strangle her to death.
“I… I’m not lying. The bag was in the car all along… I never took it out.”
“You went to see Zhao Ruoruo… Since her legs aren’t injured… why did she lie to you in the first place? Zhou Xizhi… I told you people’s hearts change. She’s the one… who’s lying.”
Zhou Xizhi’s brow furrowed sharply, instinctively defending Zhao Ruoruo. “That was a misdiagnosis by the doctor. Or do you secretly wish Ruoruo’s legs were truly ruined?”
Even if Zhao Ruoruo had truly deceived him, Zhou Xizhi could find a hundred excuses to absolve her.
Yan Yi’an’s heart ached bitterly. Why was she even bothering?
“I don’t know what Zhao Ruoruo told you. She deliberately staged that car accident… that’s true. She wanted to harm me… that’s also true. She’s the one… who’s the sinner.”
Yan Yi’an’s relentless denigration of Zhao Ruoruo only fanned Zhou Xizhi’s rage into a blazing inferno.
Had Butler Zhou not come out and seen Yan Yi’an’s eyes rolling back, pulling Zhou Xizhi away, Yan Yi’an would likely have died at Zhou Xizhi’s hands.
“Young Master Zhou, I’ve heard a bit about the car accident case in Nancheng. Since the court has already handed down its verdict, why won’t you let Miss Yan go? After all, she’s a victim too.”
Zhou Xizhi sneered. This woman certainly had a talent for winning people over—when had even Uncle Zhou fallen under her spell?
“Uncle Zhou, this woman is cunning, treacherous, and full of lies. Don’t let her deceive you.”
“And tonight she’s not allowed to get up. She’ll kneel until she figures things out.”
It took Yan Yi’an a long moment to regain her senses, only to see a cold, resolute figure walking further and further away, with Butler Zhou’s continuous sighs echoing in her ears.
Late at night, Zhou Xizhi woke to a thunderclap that split the sky. The dark blue curtains by the window were lifted slightly, letting in a chill breeze, and the faint light outside flickered against the windowsill.
Zhou Xizhi stood expressionless before the floor-to-ceiling window, his eyes lowered, staring at the woman on the ground below.
The silent villa was filled with the sound of rain. Yan Yi’an tilted her small face up, desperately drinking the rainwater. Having gone a whole day without food, her throat felt as if it were seeping blood, and the rain was nectar to her.
Her now-clear eyes inadvertently glanced toward the second-floor window. Zhou Xizhi’s deep gaze was shrouded in gloom. At least she knew how to make use of what was available.
Light, steady footsteps approached with a “tap, tap” sound.
Yan Yi’an looked up to see Zhou Xizhi sheltered beneath an umbrella, like a dark emissary radiating danger.
Yan Yi’an actually thought—if he strangled her right now, Butler Zhou probably wouldn’t be able to save her, would he?
“Have you figured it out?” Zhou Xizhi’s voice cut through the rain, exceptionally cold and distant.
The blood seeping from her knees flowed along the cracks between the cobblestones to Zhou Xizhi’s feet. Yan Yi’an thought of that night when rainwater had mingled with her blood beneath her, and his indifferent gaze had been exactly the same as tonight’s.
“Zhou Xizhi, I never wronged Zhao Ruoruo. She’s the one who wronged me. She owes me.”
Yan Yi’an’s voice was somewhat hoarse. She lifted her small face, full of defiance, her eyes rimmed with red, the wounds on her lips split from dryness and stained the front of her clothes red with rainwater.
“She owes you?”
Zhou Xizhi looked as if he’d heard the funniest joke in the world. “Yan Yi’an, you’re too greedy, too ungrateful. Did you think that after two years by my side, you could truly move into Deep Water Bay and become the mistress of the Zhou family? Did you think that by getting Ruoruo sent to prison, you could completely replace her?”
“It seems you haven’t figured it out yet. Let the rain from the heavens wash away your filthy, polluted heart.”
Filthy?
Yan Yi’an thought to herself that she had never once aspired to be the mistress of the Zhou household. Her only mistake was crossing paths with Zhou Xizhi.
It truly was Zhao Ruoruo who owed her this—only that secret was one Zhou Xizhi would never learn. Such was Yan Yi’an’s final thought before she lost consciousness.
Zhou Xizhi watched as the woman who had been confronting him just moments ago collapsed before his very eyes in the next second.
Only then did he notice that beneath her knees, her legs were soaked in blood, staining a large patch of the cobblestone ground crimson—and searing red into Zhou Xizhi’s eyes as well.