What kind of body was that?
As the bathroom door fully opened, a tall figure—like an iron tower—stepped out through the swirling steam.
The man was very tall.
By visual estimate, at least 1.9 meters.
His head nearly brushed the doorframe.
He was bare-chested, his bronze-colored skin gleaming with a cold, metallic sheen under the dim yellow light.
Broad shoulders. Bulging pectorals. Every muscle looked as though it had been carved from granite—clearly defined, brimming with explosive strength.
Unwiped droplets of water rolled down along his firm muscle lines, slid over sharply defined eight-pack abs, and finally disappeared into the loosely wrapped white bath towel at his waist.
Most shocking of all was the scar on his chest.
A vicious knife scar slashed diagonally from his left shoulder straight across to his right rib, like a centipede clinging to his body, adding a savage, murderous edge to his already cold and hardened presence.
He was a walking concentration of hormones.
And even more—a living Yama who killed without spilling blood.
Huo Yan had just finished showering and was about to grab a cigarette.
As the youngest division commander in the entire military region, his alertness had been tempered on the razor’s edge between life and death.
Even in his own single-occupancy dormitory, even when relaxing, he was like a dozing beast—ready to explode into violence at the slightest disturbance.
Almost the instant he stepped out of the bathroom, he sensed something was wrong in the room.
There was an extra scent in the air.
The damp smell of rain, mixed with the earthy stench of mud, and…
a trace—very faint, very sweet—of milky fragrance.
A scent that only belonged to women.
Huo Yan’s gaze changed instantly.
The lazy, casual look in his eyes sharpened into that of a hawk, icy and piercing.
Without the slightest hesitation, his muscles tensed. He reached under the pillow in one smooth motion.
Fast as lightning.
“Click.”
The sound of a bullet being chambered.
The next second, the black muzzle of the gun was already firmly aimed at the shadowed corner of the wall.
“Who’s there? Get out!”
His voice was low and hoarse, cold as crushed ice, carrying unquestionable authority and killing intent.
Curled up in the corner, Jiang Li was terrified into numbness by the sudden turn of events.
She stared at the man who looked like a descending god of death, at the dark gun barrel, her mind completely blank.
“D-don’t… don’t kill me…”
Her voice trembled, thin as a mosquito’s buzz.
Jiang Li instinctively lifted her head, revealing the small face she’d been burying between her knees.
What a breathtaking face it was.
Even smeared with mud, even with wet hair plastered to her cheeks, it couldn’t conceal the beauty that radiated from her very bones.
Her skin was luminous white, like the finest mutton-fat jade.
A pair of peach-blossom eyes brimmed with tears, on the verge of falling, the corners flushed red from fright.
Her lips trembled from cold and fear, red as blood.
She was like a little white rabbit that had stumbled into a pack of wolves—fragile, helpless, carrying a fatal sense of brokenness.
Huo Yan saw clearly now.
A woman.
And a woman dressed in a red bridal gown, soaked from head to toe.
His gaze paused on her for a second.
The rain-drenched bridal dress clung to her like a second skin.
The rise and fall of her chest, the slender waist that looked as though it might snap with a bend, and those mud-stained yet still pale legs exposed by her curled posture—
The visual impact was overwhelming.
Red and white.
Mud and purity.
Softness and strength.
Huo Yan’s grip on the gun paused slightly. His Adam’s apple rolled almost imperceptibly.
But the killing intent in his eyes did not fade.
This was a military restricted zone.
The dormitory building for division-level officers.
Even a fly would need to pass through three checkpoints to get in.
How did this woman get here?
A spy?
Or a honey trap sent by Lin Man from the cultural troupe?
Lately, the number of women trying to climb into Huo Yan’s bed could line up all the way to the front gate.
But he hadn’t expected the methods to sink this low.
“Which unit sent you?”
Huo Yan stepped closer, the gun muzzle still aimed steadily between her brows.
Barefoot, he made no sound on the floor. His towering body cast a shadow that completely engulfed Jiang Li.
The pressure nearly suffocated her.
“Speak!”
Huo Yan barked sharply, his eyes full of disgust and impatience.“You’ve got some nerve, crawling into my bed. Believe it or not, I can blow your head off right now?”
What he hated most were shameless women who tried to take shortcuts.
Jiang Li shuddered violently at his shout, tears finally spilling over.
“I… I’m not… I didn’t…”
She shook her head frantically, words tumbling out in panic.
Tears slid down her pointed chin and splashed onto the floor.
That pear-blossom-with-rain appearance, paired with her soaked red dress, carried an indescribable tragic beauty—and… allure.
Huo Yan’s brows knit tightly.
For over thirty years, he’d lived like a monk.
Training or fighting—nothing else.
Women were something he always kept at arm’s length.
To him, women were synonymous with trouble.
Crying. Delicate. Complicated.
But the woman before him…
She looked so weak—easy to crush with a single finger.
Yet the pure-yet-provocative aura about her was like a hook, inexplicably tugging at the heart he’d kept calm as an ancient well for years.
Stirring a completely unfamiliar, brutal urge—to destroy, and to… ruthlessly bully.
“Not?”
Huo Yan sneered, lips curling with mockery.“If you’re not a spy, then you’re a hooligan? Breaking into a man’s room in the dead of night dressed like this—what exactly are you trying to do?”
His gaze roamed over her without restraint, as though appraising merchandise.
The heat of that look made Jiang Li tremble all over.
She tried to pull her clothes tighter to cover herself, but the soaked fabric only clung closer the more she tugged.
“I… I’m running for my life… please, don’t drive me out…”
Jiang Li sobbed as she begged, her voice soft and sweet like Jiangnan rice cake.
Running for her life?
Huo Yan narrowed his eyes, about to interrogate her further—
When suddenly—
Knock knock knock!
Urgent knocking sounded at the door.
Immediately after, a rough male voice called out:
“Division Commander! Are you asleep?”
It was Huo Yan’s guard, Zhao Gang.
Jiang Li’s face turned deathly pale, her heart nearly leaping out of her throat.
If she were discovered…
If she were arrested as a spy…
Or sent to the police station…
Her stepmother would definitely hear about it and drag her back!
“Division Commander! The patrol just reported someone broke into the rear mountain restricted area. Seems like a woman in red ran this way! Should we conduct a search?”
Zhao Gang’s voice was loud, penetrating the door. Every word struck like a death sentence.
Huo Yan’s finger slowly tightened on the trigger.
He looked down at Jiang Li from above, his gaze dark and unreadable—like he was looking at a dead person.
All it would take was one word from him.
Or simply opening the door.
This woman’s fate would be either prison— or forced repatriation.
Jiang Li was utterly desperate.
She looked at Huo Yan’s cold, merciless face and felt like a piece of meat on a chopping board, her life and death resting entirely on this man’s single thought.