“What are you thinking about? You’ve been distracted ever since we got back from school.”
Chen Zhiye walked over to the steps where Su Muzhi was sitting, crouched down, and handed her a bottle of mineral water.
Su Muzhi, still unsettled, took it and forced a faint smile.
“I’m thinking about what happened today.”
“Didn’t we already settle it? The police also said they’ll find the girl in the video as soon as possible.”
Su Muzhi knew he was right. Overthinking wouldn’t help anything, but she still couldn’t shake the unease.
Seeing that she stayed silent, Chen Zhiye asked again.
“Why did the Zhou sisters leave so abruptly? I thought they’d stay in the city another night.”
Su Muzhi nodded.
“Xiaoyu was worried Xiaoqing might develop psychological trauma. She rushed her to the neighboring city and plans to sell the company, then transfer schools and settle down there with her.”
She turned to look at him with a teasing expression.
“Director Chen, why are you so concerned about them? Do you like Xiaoyu?”
Chen Zhiye froze on the spot.
“I’m not concerned about them. I’m just wondering why you’re so concerned about them—beyond normal friendship.”
Su Muzhi laughed.
“I was joking.”
Then her expression softened.
“About the Zhou sisters… after I was kicked out of my family, I was forced to repay all the years of living expenses to the Su family. When Xiaoyu found out, she convinced her parents to pay it for me.”
“Over a million yuan isn’t much to her—it might just be three months of her allowance. But for me, it was something that could’ve ruined my life.”
“Even though she kept telling me not to repay it, I’ve always been saving money, hoping one day I can give it back.”
Chen Zhiye looked at her quietly, his eyes softening with sympathy.
He could tell the Su family had never intended to treat her well from the beginning.
Sensing his gaze, Su Muzhi quickly changed the subject.
“Enough about me. Why did you give up a good job and come to this remote mountain to run a rescue station?”
Chen Zhiye paused, as if recalling the past. A thousand words seemed to rise, but when he spoke, only a few came out.
“My grandfather used to run a small private animal park. It was basically a shelter for injured animals. I grew up around him, and after saving enough money, I came back to open this rescue station.”
Su Muzhi could tell he wasn’t telling the full truth, but she didn’t press him.
“That so? Director Chen, does that count as inheriting the family business?”
He chuckled.
“I guess it does.”
Then he added,
“I actually thought of a new idea today—livestreaming the rescue work. Showing the whole process of how we rescue animals.”
“Netizens are right in a way. We shouldn’t only show funny clips of Blackie and the others. That does go against the original purpose of the station. So I want to change things.”
“Tomorrow we’re picking up that kitten. I want to try filming it first. If it works, we’ll mainly livestream rescues and rehabilitation from now on.”
Chen Zhiye nodded.
“Sounds good. Rest early tonight. I’ll go with you tomorrow.”
Early the next morning, Su Muzhi started a livestream.
“Good morning everyone. Today we’re going to pick up a recovered kitten and bring it back to the rescue station. Come with us.”
The livestream went relatively smoothly. The audience wasn’t as large as before, and some people complained it was boring, but overall she was satisfied.
As they were about to arrive back at the rescue station, Chen Zhiye suddenly spoke.
“Su Su, is that a cardboard box at the gate?”
They exchanged a glance.
A bad feeling rose at the same time.
Don’t tell me… another “Long Princess” situation?
Su Muzhi grabbed her phone and jumped out of the car.
“I’ll go check!”
The livestream shook violently as she ran forward, the image becoming blurry, but her urgency was obvious.
The comments exploded:
<What kind of angle is this?><I feel sick watching this—what did they see?><I’m curious too!>
Su Muzhi’s breathing quickened. She carefully lifted the newspaper covering the box, peeling it layer by layer.
Then—only a field of red remained.
She sucked in a sharp breath.
This one was far worse than the Long Princess incident. She couldn’t even hear the animal’s cries.
She threw her phone aside.
“Chen Zhiye! Come down! Bring blankets—anything that can stop bleeding!”
He immediately grabbed whatever medical supplies he could and rushed out.
Su Muzhi carefully lifted the animal from the box and placed it onto a blanket spread on the ground.
Only then did she see it clearly.
She looked up at Chen Zhiye with a hollow expression.
“Another eagle-owl… just like Long Princess. One eye is completely gone.”
The livestream, abandoned on the ground, erupted again.
<Oh my god!><Same injury as Long Princess?! That’s serious!>
But Su Muzhi had no time for the comments.
She pressed the blanket against the wound, trying to stop the bleeding. Warm blood seeped through her fingers, soaking into her skin, but all she felt was cold.
Her voice trembled.
“Hang in there… wake up… you can do it…”
Chen Zhiye ran back with medicine and gauze. He quickly prepared everything and looked at her.
Her face was pale. Her arms were shaking uncontrollably.
She was reaching her limit.
He stepped closer.
“Let me do it.”