“Good midnight, listeners. Severe convective weather is expected to arrive soon. Please refrain from going outside…”
A gentle female voice flowed from the car radio as a bolt of lightning split the night sky.
A black Ferrari sped through the deserted city streets.
Blood-covered hands gripped the steering wheel tightly. His dark, gloomy eyes were tinged red, and amid the roar of the engine, the accelerator was nearly pressed to the floor.
Jiang Yuan’s chest rose and fell violently. He had bitten his lips until they bled from holding back, his black hair appearing even darker against his increasingly pale face.
He knew he was trembling.
He didn’t know whether it was from the blood loss from the wounds on his arm and waist, or from nervousness, fear, or…
Excitement.
He had gotten closer.
Close enough that she had touched him through their clothes.
Close enough to hear her breathing and inhale the air she exhaled.
How had she discovered she was being followed?
She was incredible.
Had she been frightened?
Those two stabs she delivered were perfect.
He hadn’t hurt her just now, had he?
She had even almost grabbed his hand.
His mind was in chaos, and his vision began to blur.
Jiang Yuan moved one hand to his waist and jabbed his fingers into the fresh wound.
“Hiss—”
The tearing pain jolted him awake.
…
The door to Song Ming’an’s house was kicked open.
The doctor, who had just fallen asleep, was forced upright from bed. He stared in alarm at the black-clad figure covered in blood.
“Jiang Yuan? Did you go kill someone?”
He switched on the lights, uncertainty filling his expression.
“Whose blood is this? Yours or someone else’s?”
Jiang Yuan shook his foggy head.
“Mine.”
“That’s good.”
Song Ming’an instinctively breathed a sigh of relief before realizing he probably shouldn’t be relieved at all.
His gaze fell on the wounds at Jiang Yuan’s waist and arm, and he frowned deeply.
“They’re pretty deep. You need stitches. I don’t have anesthetics at home. Are you sure you don’t want to go to the hospital?”
“No.”
Jiang Yuan suppressed his ragged breathing.
“And you’re not reporting it? At this level, once the injuries are examined, the other party could face criminal charges.”
“It was my fault.”
Song Ming’an was stunned.
It felt as though he had just seen a venomous snake wagging its tail like a dog.
He wondered if sleep deprivation was making him hallucinate as he reluctantly fetched the medical kit.
“Just so you know, although I studied surgery as a secondary specialty, I have almost no clinical experience. If the stitches turn out ugly and leave scars, don’t blame me.”
To his surprise, Jiang Yuan curled his lips into a faint smile.
“Okay.”
A chill ran down Song Ming’an’s spine.
As expected, Jiang Yuan never cried out in pain, even though his muscles were trembling involuntarily.
His tolerance was unbelievable, as if he had been injected with a lethal dose of adrenaline.
There was hardly any pain on his face.
Instead, those pitch-black eyes stared fixedly at the wound, revealing a strange fascination.
Sweating nervously, Song Ming’an debated how to ask what had happened.
In the oppressive silence, Jiang Yuan spoke first.
“I can’t keep things as they are anymore.”
“What?”
Song Ming’an didn’t immediately understand.
“You told me before that maintaining the status quo was best. But I can’t keep following her anymore. She discovered me.”
It was rare for Jiang Yuan to say so many words at once.
His voice was terribly hoarse, suppressing countless emotions—pain, fear, and perhaps something else.
Song Ming’an sighed and tied off the final stitch.
“So my guess was right. You couldn’t stop yourself from following that person. She didn’t notice before, but she noticed today. Do you really have to follow her?”
He rubbed his temples.
“With your status, you have countless ways to connect with anyone. Why not approach her openly?”
Jiang Yuan was silent for a long time before finally speaking.
“I’m afraid.”
“There’s actually something you’re afraid of?”
Jiang Yuan lightly touched the freshly bandaged wound, feeling the trembling sting of pain, but said nothing.
After thinking for a while, Song Ming’an tried another angle.
“Fine. Let me ask differently. She realized someone was following her, but did she see your face? Does she know it was you?”
Jiang Yuan paused.
“…She doesn’t know.”
“That’s good, then.”
Song Ming’an relaxed slightly.
“If she doesn’t know the stalker was you, things are simple. Approach her as yourself. Run into her by chance. Help her solve problems. Create opportunities to work together. Keep her within a reasonable range of your sight.
“If it’s psychologically difficult to approach her directly, then at least shorten the physical distance.”
Jiang Yuan remained silent.
Song Ming’an understood. Jiang Yuan barely had any normal social interactions. Perhaps he no longer even knew how to get along with people.
“I understand your concerns. You’re afraid you’ll lose control and hurt her.
“But from what I can tell, she’s not helpless, and you’re extremely restrained. If you ever notice any behavior from yourself that feels wrong, come to me immediately.
“Anyway, the stalking route is no longer an option. Stop acting like a ghost.”
Silence answered him once again.
Jiang Yuan sat on the sofa with his head lowered.
His upper body was bare beneath the black coat draped over his shoulders. His pale skin contrasted with the elegant lines of his muscles as his fingers gently stroked the wound.
Song Ming’an washed his hands and finished tidying up before returning.
At last, Jiang Yuan spoke.
His voice trembled like the murmur of someone trapped in a painful dream.
“No.”
He stood abruptly and strode out.
He shouldn’t contaminate her world.
He should simply disappear.
The wound reminded him.
Enough.
This was where it had to end.
He had already disturbed her.
He was already terribly wrong.
He hid in the darkness, praying that the moon would shine forever.
But the bright moon hung high above.
It did not need to shine for him.
Yan Sui finally reached home, her mood foul.
What made it worse was that nobody was home tonight.
When the housekeeper saw Yan Sui enter, her expression changed immediately, as though she had swallowed a fly. Still, she said nothing and quietly moved farther away.
Yan Sui sat down at the dining table.
There was no smile in her eyes, yet a sweet smile spread across her lips.
“Auntie, make me dinner.”
The housekeeper instinctively wanted to refuse.
“There isn’t any—”
But when she met Yan Sui’s dark eyes, the rest of her words died in her throat.
There was no point arguing with a lunatic.
Dinner was served.
Yan Sui ate a little before casually opening the refrigerator.
The housekeeper finally forced herself to speak.
“That bowl of bird’s nest soup is the last one. We haven’t had time to buy more yet. If you drink it, Madam will definitely notice.”
“I see.”
The young girl nodded.
She picked up the bowl, tapped it lightly with her fingertip, then put it back.
“Then I won’t drink it. I don’t want to make things difficult for you, Auntie.”
“I’m going upstairs to get something. When Dad and Auntie come back, remember to greet them for me.”
Smiling sweetly, she thanked the visibly relieved housekeeper and skipped lightly upstairs.
There was one security camera in the living room.
Another in the second-floor hallway.
And another on the third floor.
She touched the small pill hidden in her pocket, and her mood improved slightly.
Although she couldn’t tease He Wan tonight, at least things would proceed more smoothly.
The moment she opened her bedroom door, she swept her gaze across the entire room.
Then her eyes stopped at the windowsill.
The wild rose.
Under the moonlight, it remained as beautiful and vibrant as ever.
Beyond the rose and the window stood the villa across from hers, shrouded in darkness.
Yet the curtains of the bedroom directly facing her window seemed to flutter ever so slightly the moment she looked over.