The man who had made her cry herself sick outside the pages of a book.
He wasn’t a paper character.
He was right here, alive before her eyes, enduring torment straight out of hell.
“Ah—”
A low roar, no longer quite human, rolled up from deep in his throat, filled with desperate, violent rage.
Ye Mochen suddenly opened his eyes.
They were completely swallowed by crimson—eyes devoid of reason, holding nothing but the madness of destruction.
He stared fiercely into the darkness beyond the cage, as if the entire world he loathed stood there before him.
Ran Weiyi’s heart was wrenched tight—not with fear, but with dense, overwhelming pain for him.
She didn’t step back.
Instead, she walked toward the cage, one step at a time.
The cool, unusual fragrance on her body quietly spread through the air like mist.
The violently struggling Ye Mochen froze.
His blood-red pupils turned sluggishly, his nose twitching slightly, as if—amid the chaos—he had caught onto something.
That indescribable scent was like a gentle hand, softly stroking the boiling, burning blood in his veins, bringing with it a strange sense of calm.
The frenzy in his eyes faded by the tiniest degree, replaced by a flicker of confusion.
Ran Weiyi stopped in front of the cage.
She could clearly see the bloody abrasions on his wrists and ankles where the iron chains had worn into his flesh—mottled, shocking.
The way he curled there, he didn’t look like the emperor who controlled Shencheng’s economic lifeline.
He looked more like a battered, abandoned beast—one the world had cast aside.
“Don’t be afraid.”
Her voice was very soft, carrying a soothing power as it echoed through the vast, deathly silent hall.
Ye Mochen’s body shuddered violently.
He lifted his head. For the first time, his crimson gaze focused—through the iron bars—on a living, breathing person.
She was an extraordinarily beautiful girl.
Dressed in a simple white dress, long black hair falling smoothly over her shoulders, her clean, delicate face cool and breathtaking.
She stood there quietly, looking at him without fear, without disgust—only with something he couldn’t understand at all.
An ache so deep it nearly dissolved into pain.
【Sister, his hatred value has stopped rising!】
Doudou’s voice rang out with excitement.
Ran Weiyi reached out. Her slender, pale fingers touched the cold iron bars of the cage without hesitation.
“Ye Mochen.”
She softly called his name, her voice trembling uncontrollably, thick with emotion.
He didn’t respond to her call. The killing intent in his crimson eyes only grew heavier.
When he was only a step away from her, he suddenly raised his hand.
That well-defined hand—now smeared with blood—lunged fiercely toward her slender neck.
Ran Weiyi didn’t dodge.
She simply looked at him, her eyes washed clean by tears, so clear they reflected his own madness.
“I came to save you.”
The words were soft, yet they struck Ye Mochen’s chaotic mind like a bolt of thunder.
At the instant his hand was about to touch her skin, his movement froze.
His crimson pupils contracted violently, locking onto the cool, beautiful face outside the cage.
Save him?
Everyone in this world wanted him dead.
Everyone feared him, hated him, wished he would disappear immediately.
Yet this woman said she would save him.
A hoarse, meaningless sound escaped his throat—not violent this time, but laced with a fragile confusion.
【Ding! World Hatred Value: 89.9%!】
Doudou’s excited voice rang out in Ran Weiyi’s mind.
【Sister, it dropped! It really dropped!】
The cool medicinal scent slipped more clearly into his breath, forcefully soothing every nerve that had been screaming in agitation.
Why did she smell… so good?
So intoxicating.
Seeing the change in his eyes, Ran Weiyi’s heart leapt with joy.
It worked.
The natural fragrance her body carried had a calming effect on Ye Mochen—this was perfect.
Gathering her courage, she reached out and cautiously, tentatively closed her hand around his bloodstained hand, still frozen in midair.
His hand was cold—cold as ice.
The moment their skin touched, Ye Mochen’s body jolted as if struck by electricity.
He tried to pull away, but the girl held on tightly.
Her palm was soft.
And warm.
That intoxicating fragrance seemed to flow straight from their point of contact, flooding relentlessly into his body, soothing every inch of pain in his bones and blood.
The handsome face twisted by agony gradually relaxed.
Like a ferocious beast that had finally found harbor, he retracted all his claws and fangs, simply staring at her in a daze—his eyes full of vulnerability and dependence.
Outside the door, the bodyguards watching through the observation window and the doctors who had rushed over all froze in place.
What were they seeing?
The madman whom even the strongest sedatives couldn’t control—
Was now quietly holding hands with a girl who looked like a single gust of wind could knock her over?
Inside the iron cage was hellish silence.
Outside the iron cage was stunned disbelief, as if they had seen a ghost.
That bloodstained hand—icy to the bone—was now wrapped in a pair of small hands completely opposite in nature.
Warm.
Soft.
The violent force rampaging inside Ye Mochen’s body seemed to find an outlet—or perhaps was gently blocked by an invisible barrier.
Instinctively, he wanted to break free from this unfamiliar touch.
But those hands—though slender and delicate—held a firmness that could not be resisted.
They gripped him tightly. Tightly.
The fragrance he was obsessively drawn to was no longer a distant illusion drifting through the air.
It invaded him through their closely pressed skin, domineeringly coursing through every parched meridian, washing over every throbbing nerve.
The pain was receding.
The madness was quieting.
Ran Weiyi’s heart pounded wildly in her chest.
Not from fear—but from a sharp, piercing ache of tenderness.
She looked at the fragility in his eyes, and her nose instantly stung.
The Ye Mochen from the book—the one abandoned by the entire world, licking his wounds alone in the dark, eventually marching toward destruction—
Was standing right in front of her now.
He wasn’t a madman.
He was just… in too much pain.
“Don’t be afraid.”
Her voice was soft, trembling almost imperceptibly, yet filled with comforting strength.
“I’m here.”
“I won’t let you hurt anymore.”
Ye Mochen’s long lashes fluttered, as if he were struggling to understand her words.
He still didn’t speak.
He only used all his strength, clumsily but firmly, to return her grip and hold her hand just as tightly.
Her heart melted completely.
The air outside the cage seemed to solidify, pressing down so heavily it was hard to breathe.
The white-haired old man known as the “miracle doctor” stared with eyes as wide as bells, mouth open, yet unable to make a sound.
In his entire lifetime of medical practice, he had never seen anything so utterly contrary to medical logic.
Medicine didn’t work.
Electric shock therapy didn’t work.
Mental calming techniques didn’t work.
Yet this tyrant—declared incurable—
Had calmed down simply because a fragile-looking girl had taken his hand.
“Open the door.”
A cool yet gentle female voice broke the eerie silence.
She wasn’t speaking to the trapped beast inside the cage.