“Good evening, listeners. Severe convective weather is approaching. Please avoid going out…”
A gentle female voice flowed softly from the car radio as a bolt of lightning pierced the night sky.
The black Ferrari sped along the empty city streets.
Blood-soaked hands gripped the steering wheel tightly, his sinister eyes tinged with crimson. Amid the roar of the engine, the accelerator was pressed almost to the floor.
Jiang Yuan’s chest heaved violently, his lips bitten bloody from restraint. The black hair at his forehead seemed darker, his face paler.
He knew he was trembling.
He didn’t know if it was from excessive blood loss from the wounds on his arm and side, or from tension, fear, or…
Excitement.
Closer.
So close that she had touched him through his clothes.
He heard her breathing, inhaled the air she exhaled.
How did she discover she was being followed? She’s so impressive.
Was she frightened? Those two stabs she delivered were perfect.
He hoped he hadn’t hurt her just now.
She had almost caught his hand.
His mind was a chaotic mess, his vision beginning to blur.
Jiang Yuan moved one hand to his waist and pressed it into the fresh wound.
“Hiss—”
The tearing pain jolted him awake.
…
The door to Song Ming’an’s home was kicked open.
The doctor, who had just gone to bed, was forced to leap up in alarm, staring in horror at the blood-covered figure in black.
“Jiang Yuan? Did you go kill someone?” He turned on the light, his expression wary and uncertain. “Whose blood is this? Yours or someone else’s?”
Jiang Yuan shook his slightly dazed head, his voice hoarse and strained. “Mine.”
“That’s good.” Song Ming’an instinctively sighed in relief before realizing he probably shouldn’t be relieved.
He examined the wounds on Jiang Yuan’s side and arm, his brow furrowing deeply.
“They’re quite deep. They need stitches. I don’t have any anesthetic at home. Are you sure you don’t want to go to the hospital?”
“No need.” Jiang Yuan suppressed his ragged breathing.
“And you’re not reporting this? With injuries like these, the other party could face criminal charges.”
“It was my fault.”
Song Ming’an was stunned, as if he had seen a venomous snake wagging its tail like a dog.
He wondered if he was hallucinating from exhaustion. Steeling himself, he fetched the medical kit. “I’ll warn you in advance: although I minored in surgery, I have almost no clinical experience. If the stitches turn out ugly or leave scars, don’t blame me.”
Jiang Yuan actually curled the corner of his mouth. “Fine.”
Song Ming’an felt a chill run down his spine.
True to form, Jiang Yuan didn’t utter a single sound of pain from start to finish, even though his muscles trembled involuntarily.
He could endure pain like no one else—comparable to having been injected with a lethal dose of adrenaline.
There wasn’t even a trace of agony on his face. Instead, those pitch-black eyes stared fixedly at the wounds, revealing a bizarre sense of obsession.
As Song Ming’an broke into a cold sweat, he struggled with how to ask what had happened.
In the oppressive silence, Jiang Yuan spoke first. “I can’t maintain the status quo anymore.”
“What?” Song Ming’an didn’t catch on immediately.
“You told me before that maintaining the status quo would be best, but I can’t keep following her anymore. She discovered me.”
It was rare for Jiang Yuan to speak so much at once.
His voice was gravelly, heavy with suppressed emotions—pain, fear, or something else entirely.
Song Ming’an sighed, tying off the final stitch.
“So I guessed right. You couldn’t control yourself and followed that person. You weren’t discovered before, but today you were. Do you have to follow her?”
Song Ming’an felt a headache coming on. “With your status, you have countless ways to connect with anyone. Why not approach her openly and honestly?”
Jiang Yuan fell silent for a long moment before speaking with difficulty, “I don’t dare.”
“Is there anything you don’t dare to do?”
Jiang Yuan gently touched his bandaged wound, feeling the sharp, trembling pain, and said nothing.
Song Ming’an thought for a while. “Alright, let me ask a different question. Did the other person notice someone following them? Did they see your face? Do they know it was you?”
Jiang Yuan: “…No.”
Song Ming’an: “That’s good. Since she doesn’t know it was you, it’s simple. Approach her in your own identity, create chance encounters, solve problems for her, create opportunities to work together—keep her within your sight.
“If you really can’t bring yourself to approach her directly, at least close the physical distance.”
Jiang Yuan remained silent. Song Ming’an knew he had almost no normal social interactions and likely no longer knew how to interact with people.
“I understand your concerns. You’re afraid you might hurt her by not knowing how to handle things properly.
“But from what I can see, she’s not someone defenseless, and you’re extremely restrained. If you ever notice any abnormal behavior in yourself, come to me. Anyway, following her is no longer an option. Don’t lurk around like a ghost anymore.”
Still silence.
Jiang Yuan sat on the sofa, head lowered. His bare upper body was pale, with well-defined muscles. He wore a black jacket draped over his shoulders, his hand gently rubbing the wound.
Song Ming’an went to wash his hands and returned after tidying up.
Finally, Jiang Yuan spoke with difficulty, his voice trembling like a painful murmur.
“No.” He stood up and strode out.
He shouldn’t taint her world. It was better for him to disappear completely.
This wound was a reminder—enough, it ends here.
He had already disturbed her, already gone too far.
He hid in the dark corners, praying for the moon to shine forever bright,
But the bright moon hangs high, with no need to shine upon him.
Yan Sui finally reached her doorstep, in a foul mood.
What made it worse was that no one was home tonight.
The nanny saw Yan Sui enter and her expression changed, as if she had swallowed a fly. But in the end, she said nothing, quietly keeping her distance.
Yan Sui sat down at the dining table, her eyes devoid of warmth but her lips curling into a sweet smile.
“Auntie, make me dinner.”
The nanny instinctively wanted to refuse. “There’s none…”
Meeting Yan Sui’s pitch-black gaze, she swallowed the rest of her words.
No point arguing with a lunatic.
Dinner was served. Yan Sui ate a little, then casually opened the refrigerator.
The nanny had to muster the courage to speak up. “That bowl of bird’s nest is the last one. The new batch hasn’t been purchased yet. If you drink it, Madam will definitely notice.”
“Is that so?” The girl nodded, picked it up, tapped it with her fingertips, then put it back. “Then I won’t drink it. I don’t want to cause trouble for you.
“I’m going upstairs to get something. When Dad and Auntie come back, remember to say hello for me.”
She smiled gratefully at the relieved nanny and lightly went upstairs.
There was one surveillance camera in the living room, and one each in the corridors on the second and third floors.
She touched the small pill in her pocket, and her mood improved slightly.
Even though she couldn’t tease He Wan anymore, at least things would go more smoothly.
Opening the door to her room, her first instinct was to scan the entire space.
Her gaze paused when it fell upon the windowsill.
That wild rose, under the moonlight, remained as vibrant and alluring as ever.
Through the rose and the window, the villa across the way was shrouded in darkness.
But the bedroom curtains directly opposite her window seemed to stir ever so slightly the moment she looked over.