Qin Sang awkwardly brushed away his hand, the one that had been gently ruffling her hair like stroking a cat. She turned her head to avoid his gaze and whispered,
“It’s… it’s nothing.”
But no sooner had she turned than Sheng Yu’s fingers gripped her jaw, forcing her to face him.
Their eyes met, and in Sheng Yu’s gaze there was that calculating sharpness, a quiet intensity that made her heart race. He spoke slowly:
“Why did you think Wen Li and I were engaged? Did that have something to do with why you left without a word back then?”
Guilt pricked at her. She lowered her lashes, avoiding the piercing stare that made her chest tighten, and said firmly,
“We shouldn’t… and we can’t be entangled anymore, Sheng Yu.”
She lifted her eyes to meet his, cold and vacant:
“You shouldn’t cling to the past either.”
Her lips twitched, stubbornly she drew in a deep breath.
“We can’t go back.”
She gave a faint, almost bitter smile and added,
“I promise I won’t put myself in danger again.”
Then she said softly, almost pleading:
“Sheng Yu… please, let me out of the car.”
Let this be… the end of us.
Sheng Yu was frustrated with her silence, her resolve, the way she carried the weight of a thousand unspoken things but never a single word for him. She pushed him away, keeping him at arm’s length no matter how hard he tried.
She was so close—yet utterly unreachable.
His voice, cold and edged with annoyance, cut through the tense air:
“And if I don’t let you?”
Qin Sang froze, her voice trembling with a desperate plea:
“Please… I’m begging you, okay?”
She bit her lip, clutching his sleeve, her fingers tightening until the tips turned pale.
Sheng Yu couldn’t bear it. His heart ached sharply. Holding onto the last sliver of hope, he produced the ring she had lost, raising it to her eyes. His voice was low, restrained, almost fragile in its intensity:
“You don’t want this either?”
At the sight of the ring, Qin Sang’s eyes lit up with a spark of joy. But anxiety quickly followed, and she asked nervously,
“Will… will you give it to me?”
Sheng Yu didn’t answer with words. He simply said,
“Come home with me.”
In an instant, the small flame of excitement in her eyes snuffed out.
“No—I don’t want it—ah!”
“Qin Sang!!”
Blinded by anger, Sheng Yu lost control, gripping her neck with a strength that made her gasp. His voice was sharp, almost laced with ice:
“You’d risk your life to get something back from anyone else, but here, with me, you just throw it away?”
His eyes blazed with a cold fury, brimming with unspoken resentment:
“Do you think I wouldn’t dare to do anything to you?”
Then, almost bitterly, he laughed through his rage:
“You’re ruthless, Qin Sang. Five years… and you still know exactly how to stab me in the heart!”
It hurt him so deeply that the pain left him numb.
Yet here she was, the one who had feared him after their reunion, somehow unafraid now. Perhaps it was the raw, uncontrollable vulnerability in his eyes that drew her in.
“…I didn’t,” she whispered, weakly, barely audible.
But those three words—so fragile and powerless—only fanned Sheng Yu’s anger further, veins taut and dark on his neck.
“I could strangle you right now!” he growled, exasperated by her cold distance, by the way she could be so warm to others yet icy and untouchable with him.
If she would rather be imperiled by others than feel safe in his hands… then perhaps she should never leave them.
His sudden ferocity shocked Qin Sang. Even Ye Huai in the front seat stiffened, shouting in alarm:
“Brother, calm down! That’s Qin Sang!”
Qin Sang… Qin Sang…
Sheng Yu let out a dry, bitter laugh, powerless to truly act on his rage. In the end, he couldn’t bring himself to harm her. Slowly, he loosened his grip, letting her step out of the car.
The neon-lit streets of Gangcheng shimmered and sparkled with life, but Sheng Yu’s world was pitch black. Not a sliver of light.
Standing under the streetlight, Qin Sang’s heart still raced from the memory of his sudden anger, his low, heavy breaths—so intense it sounded like a shattered heartbeat.
Shattered… into pieces.
She couldn’t tell if it was his heart or hers.
Her mind replayed the image of him, straining to hold back, and she couldn’t stop herself from sharing the first secret of her heart since their reunion:
“Sheng Yu…”
Her voice soft, almost a whisper, through the lowered car window:
“That ring… it was my mom’s keepsake. If… if one day you don’t want it anymore… I hope you’ll return it to me.”
Inside the car, Sheng Yu’s expression remained unreadable. He glanced at her, seemingly detached, his gaze cold, indifferent, tinged with resignation.
With that single glance, he raised the window, silently severing their line of sight.
Sheng Yu knew exactly how to control people, how to turn them into captives willing to obey him. He knew how to hold all the leverage, to manipulate, to play with hearts as if they were objects.
The recording from that night—instinctive, careful—was just one way he could keep her within his reach.
There were countless ways he could have made her stay: the recording, force… all of it.
But none of it was needed.
She didn’t have to resist; a single look, and he crumbled.
The car sped away into the night, and Qin Sang, standing under the streetlight, watched it disappear.
Finally, she lowered her gaze.
A tear fell.
She had never assumed he had let the ring go because he couldn’t bear to act against her. She didn’t dare believe that she was special to Sheng Yu.
The few days in Gangcheng had pushed her to the limit. The helplessness, the suffocating pressure of this world—it all reached a peak.
These days were the final straw, the last flake of an avalanche that crushed her resolve to fight back.
Before, she had battled for her parents, no matter how battered she became.
Now… she couldn’t anymore.
At some moment, she had relinquished all her stubbornness.
Her mother’s keepsake…
She didn’t want it anymore.
She thought of her parents—they only wanted her to live safely, not be dragged into danger over and over again.
She felt weak, powerless, defeated.
She had surrendered to the darkness.