“I’ll give my legs… to Zhao Ruoruo…”
“Don’t touch him, he’ll die…”
Yan Yi’an was forced to tilt her head back, the hot tears at the corners of her eyes already soaking her face.
Zhuang Jinghao was right before her eyes, yet she couldn’t reach him no matter what. He was being held up by the shoulders, at the mercy of others, and she was the only one who could save him.
Zhou Xizhi chuckled softly, his brows and eyes cold and stern. He hadn’t known she had someone she cared about this much—and a man, at that?
“Zhou Xizhi, if you’ve got the guts, you’d better beat me to death. Otherwise, I won’t let you get away with this…”
Blood ran from Zhuang Jinghao’s brows and eyes, blurring his vision. His pale face was somewhat terrifying, but he couldn’t bear to see Yan Yi’an humbling herself like this for his sake.
Provoking him?
The bodyguard held a baton in his hand, waiting for just a single look from Zhou Xizhi.
Zhou Xizhi smiled faintly—a smile that made one’s heart tremble—and whispered demonic words in her ear: “Hear that clearly? He asked for it himself.”
“No, don’t…”
“Ah!”
The pain in Zhuang Jinghao’s thigh was piercing to the bone, sending cold sweat down his back and making his scalp tingle. That bastard Zhou Xizhi…
Dignity, pride, tears, pleas—none of it mattered anymore.
Yan Yi’an grabbed Zhou Xizhi, stopping just short of kowtowing to him, her voice trembling as she begged, “My legs, my legs, I’ll give them to Zhao Ruoruo… Please, let him go… If you keep torturing him, he’ll really die…”
Zhou Xizhi, as if showing mercy, signaled the bodyguard to throw Zhuang Jinghao to the ground, where he lay gasping for air.
Yan Yi’an immediately broke free and crawled forward, terrified…
He was so close—just within reach of her fingertips.
But a pair of large hands seized her ankle from behind and dragged her back, like an inescapable abyss…
Zhou Xizhi then grabbed Yan Yi’an’s chin, the bones cracking sharply.
Her face was so small—so small that he could once cover it entirely with one hand. Beneath his palm used to be her bright smile and sparkling eyes; now all he could see were tears, humiliation, and pleading.
“Where’s the evidence from the car accident?”
Hearing this, Yan Yi’an froze, her tear-filled eyes full of disbelief.
“Did you really think Grandfather would make a deal with you? A woman as despicable, scheming, and vicious as you—why would Grandfather trust you?”
This was also why Zhou Xizhi was so eager to catch her. He wanted to see what tricks she was still playing.
Judging by her reaction, she must have some so-called evidence in her hands—though whether it was real or fake remained to be seen.
“You wouldn’t want… him to be thrown into the river, would you?”
The cold wind carried Zhou Xizhi’s threat into Yan Yi’an’s ears. She looked up, wondering how such venomous words could come from the mouth of the most noble man in Fangcheng.
The wind swept away her tears, stinging her eyes until they ached.
Yan Yi’an’s trembling fingers reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone, handing it over. “A re…recording… Zhao Ruoruo’s voice… admitting she orchestrated the car accident.”
“Hmph, who knows if it’s fabricated.”
A flicker of hesitation passed across Zhou Xizhi’s brow, then instantly returned to cold indifference. He felt nothing but disgust toward Yan Yi’an now. Even the police had said the accident was caused by the rear vehicle crashing into the one ahead.
Taking Yan Yi’an’s phone, his slender fingers moved swiftly—doing something—before quickly removing the SIM card and tossing both it and the phone off the bridge.
Yan Yi’an’s heart turned completely cold. He wouldn’t even listen, convinced the recording must be fake. Zhao Ruoruo really was lucky…
“Don’t play any more tricks. Those who bring harm upon themselves shall not be spared. You should atone for the mistakes you’ve made.”
Zhou Xizhi said coldly, finally releasing his grip and shoving Yan Yi’an away.
“Zhou Xizhi… you trust Zhao Ruoruo so much. If you ever learn the truth one day, will you be sad?” Yan Yi’an’s voice was hoarse, drifting through the air—ethereal and hollow.
“She is not like you.”
The meaning was unmistakable—Zhao Ruoruo was not a venomous woman like her; she would neither deceive nor harm others.
Throughout the journey, Yan Yi’an worried whether Zhuang Jinghao might have a relapse, regretting in her heart that she had ever contacted him and dragged him into this mess.
Zhuang Jinghao’s leg injury was not life-threatening—it only required time to heal and recover. Only then did Yan Yi’an breathe a sigh of relief. Thank goodness…
The Zhuang family arrived quickly. Yan Yi’an did not show herself, secretly confirming that Zhuang Jinghao was fine before heading straight to the police station to turn herself in.
When Wen Xiao reported Yan Yi’an’s surrender to Zhou Xizhi, his expression was not as relieved as one might expect—his face was heavy. “Once this matter is settled, return to Fangcheng as soon as possible. Ruoruo’s leg also needs treatment. Arrange the hospital in advance.”
“Understood.”
Wen Xiao actually felt some hesitation inside—did President Zhou really not care about the evidence Miss Yan had provided?
The day of the trial drew nearer with each passing day. Aside from her agent, Yan Yi’an refused to see everyone—Zhuang Jinghao had requested the most meetings. Her agent, meanwhile, was only anxious to discuss contract termination and compensation.
Finally, the day of the trial arrived.
At the defendant’s stand, Yan Yi’an hung her head low, her back a picture of deathly stillness and dejection. The scars and bruises on her face were still faintly visible, devoid of any luster or vitality. Small, thin, and frail, she stood alone on the platform, stirring an inexplicable ache in one’s heart.
Zhuang Jinghao shot a vicious glare at the man not far away—Zhou Xizhi.
Zhou Xizhi kept his lips pressed together, his expression calm, his gaze fixed intently on that frail figure. Only the incessant rubbing of his thumb betrayed the agitation within.
It was not until Zhao Ruoruo appeared that Zhou Xizhi’s gaze shifted, the corner of his lips lifting slightly toward her.
Zhao Ruoruo accused Yan Yi’an of harboring hatred born of love—of loving without obtaining—and thus ramming her car into the mountainside, deliberately causing a car accident with intent to kill.
Yan Yi’an, who had remained expressionless throughout, let out a soft laugh upon hearing her words.
From his position slightly behind and to her side, Zhou Xizhi caught the faint smile at the corner of her lips—clearly one of mockery and derision. He frowned in displeasure.
The trial was expected to proceed smoothly, after all, since Yan Yi’an had surrendered herself. But unexpectedly, after Zhao Ruoruo finished speaking, the silent Yan Yi’an suddenly lifted her head, a glint flashing in her eyes, and said in a calm tone, “Your Honor, I have new evidence proving that Zhao Ruoruo has made false accusations and framed me. The one who truly deliberately caused the car accident is her.”
“I request that my evidence be played in court.”
Zhou Xizhi’s heart sank. His gaze turned instantly dark and ominous as he stared at Yan Yi’an’s defense attorney, who frowned and shook his head in bewilderment—Miss Yan had never mentioned anything about this before.
In an instant, the courtroom erupted in murmurs.
Panic and bewilderment flashed across Zhao Ruoruo’s face before she calmed herself. She had already destroyed the dashcam footage—what evidence could Yan Yi’an possibly have?
“To capture more footage of daily life, I’ve always kept a miniature camera in my bag. The data is transmitted to the cloud in real time. All I need to do now is log into my account, and you can see what truly happened that night—the truth.”
Boom.
Zhao Ruoruo panicked…
Zhou Xizhi’s face darkened abruptly.
Zhao Ruoruo instinctively looked toward Zhou Xizhi in the audience, shaking her head in denial. Her eyes held sheer impossibility that gradually gave way to pleading. She was silently begging for help, and Zhou Xizhi’s heart ached at the sight, the expensive fabric of his suit crumpled under his grip.
Yan Yi’an was indeed full of tricks. She couldn’t be trusted.
What kind of woman had he been keeping for the past two years?
Zhou Xizhi finally understood what her smile had been mocking.
She was laughing at everyone for being fools—especially him. At this moment, he wished he could tear the woman on stage apart limb by limb. Just moments ago, he had actually felt a flicker of softness, intending to instruct his lawyer to fight for a reduced sentence or a stay of execution before the verdict.
Mercy toward an enemy is cruelty toward oneself.
When Zhou Xizhi saw the footage and audio playing on the computer screen, when he saw the deathly pallor on Zhao Ruoruo’s face, all he felt toward Yan Yi’an was fury and hatred.