“Xi Xi, my Xi Xi, you must stay by my side forever, always with me…”
The man’s hoarse, low voice lingered in her ears like a curse, his arms wrapped tightly around the young girl in his embrace in an absolute, possessive manner. The girl, with her delicate brows furrowed and a face as beautiful as peach blossoms, was nearly suffocated by his hold, her cherry lips slightly parted as she let out shallow breaths of hot air.
The warm glow from the crystal chandelier shone down on the entangled couple lying beneath the goose-down quilt on the luxurious bed, raising the temperature in the room even further.
The thick, intimate atmosphere in the room lingered for a long time, making it all too clear what had transpired there.
After what felt like an eternity, the man finally pressed a kiss to the girl’s swollen lips and whispered softly, “Xi Xi, I love you. We must be together forever.”
This was the first time he had ever declared his love to her, yet it happened on the very night she had turned to him for help.
His forceful, clinging affection left her feeling suffocated.
And she had no idea where this love had even come from.
Before Jiang Xizhi could fully process the suffocating dream, the scene shifted abruptly—
With a loud “bang,” a large truck appeared out of nowhere at the corner and crashed into the black Maybach not far away.
This was a murder.
The scene was gruesome. The Maybach driver died on the spot, and the woman in the white dress sitting in the back seat, gently stroking her pregnant belly, was also unable to escape the tragedy.
Blood gushed from her thigh, staining her white dress. The large, glaring bloodstain bloomed on her skirt like a crimson lotus, vivid and terrifying.
“My baby, my baby…”
The woman clutched her stomach, groaning in agony. Blood from her forehead streamed down, even covering her eyelids. Everything she saw was red, and an overwhelming sense of despair washed over her. Yet, she was powerless—no one could save her.
Two lives lost, one body, a tragic death.
Awakening from the dream, Jiang Xizhi sat up on the opulent European-style bed, pushing the covers aside. She pressed a hand to her chest, gasping for breath. Sweat-dampened hair clung to her smooth, pale forehead, and her white silk nightgown was soaked with cold sweat.
Instinctively, she glanced at the other side of the bed. It was empty—no sign of the man. She let out a sigh of relief.
Only then did she remember he was away on a business trip. Today was the fourth day of his trip. Before leaving, he had said he would be gone for a week and asked if she wanted to come along. She had refused.
Because she had something more important to do.
She was going to run away. While his obsession with her wasn’t yet too deep, she would escape the gilded cage he had built for her. That way, perhaps the events of her past life wouldn’t repeat themselves, and she wouldn’t die such a tragic death.
Yes, she had been reborn, returning to the time when Ji Han Zhuo had just brought her back to his private residence, Yucui Garden. At this point, he hadn’t forced himself on her yet—he was merely keeping her by his side, holding her in his arms during the day to tease her now and then, and at night, they simply talked under the covers.
But she knew he was waiting for an opportunity, searching for the perfect moment to devour her bit by bit, eroding her until not even a trace of her remained.
It hadn’t been a short time since she was reborn, but even after all this time, she still dreamed of the events of her past life—that horrific car accident, her unborn child, the vast pools of blood. Just the thought of it made her heart feel as if it were being wrung, aching so badly she could hardly breathe.
And the reason heaven had granted her this rebirth was to allow her to change that tragedy, to alter her own tragic fate.
Moreover, she needed to reclaim herself—to become an independent-minded woman of the new era, not a clinging vine relying on him for survival.
The first step in changing her fate was to leave Ji Han Zhuo, the man who had bound her even in death. Only by leaving him could she pursue what she truly wanted, and perhaps those tragedies would never come to pass.
In her past life, she had been timid and weak, kept like a pet in his palm, never daring—or even considering—the thought of escaping him. But in this life, she must leave him.
Smoothing the damp hair at her forehead, she picked up the silver-white phone from the bedside table, pressed the power button, and glanced at the time: 9:10.
There was also a WeChat message sent at 9:07, containing just three words: “Awake yet?”
The sender was “Dog Man”—the nickname she had saved for Ji Han Zhuo.
It had to be said, Ji Han Zhuo understood her quite well, even down to her daily routine, which he had pinpointed with precision.
Jiang Xizhi replied perfunctorily with a single “Mm.”
Ever since he had gone on his business trip, he had checked in on her three times a day for every meal. And she couldn’t simply ignore him—otherwise, he would call Uncle Chen, the housekeeper, and make her reply.
Tossing the phone aside, she pushed back the velvet quilt, tugged up the slipping straps of her nightgown, and stepped barefoot onto the white velvet carpet, heading toward the bathroom. Above were a pair of straight, slender calves, glowing almost luminous under the sunlight, while the nightgown barely covered her upper thighs.
All her clothes were chosen by Ji Han Zhuo, and her sleepwear was no exception—cool and revealing, leaving her no say in the matter.
Half an hour later, Jiang Xizhi emerged from the bathroom wrapped in a white bathrobe and walked straight into the walk-in closet connected to the bedroom.
The entire closet was as large as two bedrooms combined, filled entirely with her clothes and accessories.
High-end custom gowns, casual wear, designer bags, jewelry, and necklaces occupied every inch of the space, exuding sheer luxury.
Every piece of clothing, every accessory, had been handpicked by Ji Han Zhuo himself—from the inside out, head to toe, nothing was overlooked.
He was dedicated to molding her into his little golden canary, and in these matters, he spared no expense.
As for the clothes she had brought with her originally, he had long since discarded them, along with the suitcase, as if they were trash.
So, aside from wearing these clothes, she had no other choice.
Thinking of her plans for the day, she picked out a white tracksuit and matching sneakers, changed into them, and tied her hair into a high ponytail. The woman in the mirror—no, the girl—looked youthful, bright, and full of vitality, a world apart from the fragile version of herself in her past life.
She was only twenty-one this year, a junior majoring in English. She should have been at her most vibrant and beautiful age, but Ji Han Zhuo had taken a liking to her and imprisoned her in this vast, cold private mansion.
She still remembered the night he brought her back. He sat cross-legged on the leather sofa, refined and restrained, cold and unfeeling, while she slumped on the carpet nearby, tear-stained, the pure white carpet stained with blood from the bend of her legs.
He glanced at her sideways, like a lofty deity, his words as heartless as he was: “I helped you, so you should listen to me. Starting tomorrow, you won’t need to go to school anymore. I’ll arrange everything for you. Your only task is to stay obediently by my side.”
With that, he gently pulled her into his arms. Even though the blood from her legs stained his clothes, he—a man with a cleanliness obsession—didn’t seem to mind at all.
He instructed the servant to bring the first aid kit and carefully cleaned the wound on her leg, his touch as gentle as if handling a rare treasure—a stark contrast to his earlier cold demeanor.
She had never begged him for help, yet he took the initiative to repay the two hundred thousand her father’s shop owed, then brought her back to Yucui Garden to keep her there.
All of this was imposed on her by him; he never once asked if she was willing to accept his assistance.
In truth, even if she had refused, Ji Han Zhuo had a hundred ways to make her comply—something she only understood later. But in this life, she no longer wanted to sit idly by. No matter what, she wanted to try, believing that a different approach might lead to a different outcome.
Part of the reason Ji Han Zhuo dared to act this way was simply because she was soft-natured, easy to control, and didn’t know how to refuse others.
But not in this life. She would become strong, leave him, work hard to earn money and repay him, so they could be even.
After tidying her attire, Jiang Xizhi went downstairs.
As soon as she descended, Chen Yi approached her, her attitude respectful. “Miss Jiang, breakfast is ready.”
“Alright, thank you, Chen Yi.”
Chen Yi was the wife of the butler, Uncle Chen. Both were longtime staff from the Ji family’s old residence. Having cared for Ji Han Zhuo since childhood, they were brought along when he moved out of the old residence to live independently, tasked with managing the affairs of Yucui Garden.
Jiang Xizhi was the first girl Ji Han Zhuo had brought back to Yucui Garden. They understood that their young master’s influence didn’t require a marriage alliance to sustain; he could find a girl he liked to spend his life with, so they treated her differently.
Moreover, the girl their young master brought back was gentle, beautiful, obedient, and had an excellent temperament—a perfect complement to his own violent and aloof nature, making her a fitting choice.
After breakfast, Jiang Xizhi went to the backyard garden.
Sitting on the swing beside the pavilion, she fiddled with her phone while quietly observing the two black-clad bodyguards stationed at the entrance of the backyard garden.
Ji Han Zhuo had only given her a phone and, on the surface, hadn’t restricted her freedom. However, the bodyguards at every exit of the estate made everything clear.
Unless he took her out, she couldn’t leave on her own.
Looking back now, she found her past self both laughable and pitiful—how could she have endured this indirect imprisonment, locked away for three whole years?
But then again, even the most stubborn person, confined to this estate for three years, would have their edges worn down, let alone someone as soft-natured as her, who never dared to entertain thoughts of escape from the start.
But now was different. With the painful experiences of her past life, she could no longer afford to sit and wait.