Fortunately, once the awkward parts of the rehearsal were behind them, it moved on to the aftermath, where Xiaoya, having had her way with Xiaogang, was meant to comfort him afterward with a sincere, heartfelt confession. Qi Xi steeled herself and began delivering the plain but genuine confession lines Gu Yan had requested.

Except—whether by accident or on purpose—Gu Yan ended up flubbing this part many times too. Qi Xi had to repeat her “confession” over and over, only to be rejected by Gu Yan each time. But despite the bumps along the way, the two of them eventually made it through the rough shape of the plot and lines.

Realizing she’d completed a task assigned by the bar association, with only the actual filming left, Qi Xi’s mood brightened considerably. “Alright! Today’s rehearsal task is done! Gu Yan, what are you planning to do next?”

Gu Yan pressed his lips together. “Get a haircut.”

Qi Xi glanced at him and noticed his hair had grown slightly long. Even so, it hadn’t diminished his looks at all—short hair gave him a crisp, handsome look, while slightly longer hair lent him a refined, scholarly air.

He seemed to look good no matter what. Even the most ordinary hairstyle seemed to become extraordinary on him.

No wonder so many people liked Gu Yan.

Qi Xi felt a twinge of something sour inside, suddenly reluctant to look directly at him. She lowered her gaze, muttering almost to herself, “I’ll go buy some milk tea and head home. Bye!”

Qi Xi wasn’t even sure what had come over her—she hadn’t done anything she needed to hide—yet in the end she practically fled the scene.

By the time she got home with her ginger milk tea, she found that Zhao Yiran was still working overtime and hadn’t come back yet.

Qi Xi texted Zhao Yiran, who replied with a crying emoji, saying she’d probably be stuck working until late into the night again.

Qi Xi retreated to her room, watched some TV for a while, and soon heard the sound of the door lock turning.

Hadn’t Zhao Yiran said she’d be home much later? Had she finished work early?

Qi Xi’s mouth was full of tapioca pearls from her milk tea, so she didn’t say anything—she just opened her bedroom door, intending to let Zhao Yiran in.

But whether by some stroke of luck, before opening the door, Qi Xi happened to glance through the peephole first—and what she saw nearly scared the life out of her.

The person outside wasn’t Zhao Yiran at all, but a shifty-eyed, vicious-looking middle-aged man, currently fiddling with the door lock using some kind of tool, clearly attempting to break in. Not far from him on the ground lay an axe.

Qi Xi immediately locked the door and called the police.

But even after hanging up with the police, Qi Xi didn’t feel much safer, because as far as she knew, the nearest police station was some distance from where she lived, and this time of evening—right after dinner rush hour, when people were heading home from socializing or business dinners—was likely also peak traffic time. There was no telling how quickly the police could actually get there.

Though she’d sounded calm while making the call, Qi Xi now realized her hands had been trembling the whole time.

The sound of the lock being tampered with outside only deepened her fear. Fortunately, at that moment, Zhao Yiran’s call came through: “Qi Xi, are you home?”

Zhao Yiran’s voice was frantic with panic. “That thug just texted me—he really has been following me! He knows our address, and now he’s headed to our place with an axe, saying he wants to ‘catch up’ with me! Weren’t you rehearsing with Gu Yan tonight? If you’re not home, whatever you do, don’t go back! I’ve already called the police!”

Hearing this, Qi Xi’s stomach dropped—she realized things had truly gone wrong.

So the man outside really was that thug. If she remembered right, this man was a sex offender.

“I’m already home. He’s picking the lock right now. He really does have an axe…”

Qi Xi had never experienced anything like this before. The hand holding her phone had started shaking, her voice trembling too, fear and panic bleeding into every word. Each sound from outside the door felt like it was stabbing straight into her heart, filling her with dread.

Almost at the same moment, the sound of the lock being picked stopped, replaced by the sound of the door being kicked in.

Qi Xi lowered her voice, struggling to hold back tears. “Zhao Yiran, he’s inside. What do I do? Help me, I’m so scared.”

Zhao Yiran sounded terrified too. “I’m coming right now with some of the guys from my enforcement division—hide well until I get there. This man’s a repeat rapist, Qi Xi, you have to protect yourself! Hide, quickly! He’s only ever seen me—if he sees I’m not home, he might just leave! Please, please protect yourself. Your life comes first, don’t do anything reckless!”

Qi Xi didn’t dare say anything more. She hung up, spun around the room, grabbed a fruit knife, and, gripped by fear so intense it felt like it might snap something inside her, hurried to hide inside the closet.

It was the closet where she stored bedding and heavy winter coats. Once inside, the thick layers of clothes and blankets muffled the sounds from outside, dulling her sense of what was happening. She could only guess from faint noises that the thug had broken through the door and gotten inside, but she had no idea where he was or what he was doing.

This uncertainty about the outside world didn’t calm her at all—if anything, it deepened her fear. She worried he might burst into her room, notice some sign of her presence, and yank open the closet to drag her out.

This was a repeat rapist, someone who’d been in and out of prison multiple times.

That made him even more terrifying than an ordinary violence-driven attacker seeking a specific target, because sex offenders were more prone to committing crimes of impulse against unspecified women—sometimes needing no reason at all, just a sudden, uncontrolled urge.

Right now, there was no one else in the apartment who could help her, and facing this physically powerful middle-aged sex offender, Qi Xi had no chance at all.

The closet was packed with clothes, and her anxiety made the air feel thinner. Qi Xi endured the stifling heat and fear, hiding in the small space behind the coats, not even daring to check her phone, afraid the light from the screen might give her away.

Qi Xi stayed hidden in the closet, unable to move, not daring to move.

Time crawled unbearably slowly, each minute feeling like a drawn-out struggle to survive, like a kind of slow torture.

Being a lawyer confident enough to argue legal points with anyone was one thing—facing a real violent criminal in real life was something else entirely.

Qi Xi bit down hard on her lip, shaking uncontrollably from fear.

If… if the worst happened…

In the long, silent dread, Qi Xi heard sounds from outside that seemed like fighting, or things being smashed, and her fear spiked to its peak in that instant.

Then she heard her bedroom door being thrown open—from the sound of it slamming against the wall, the motion was rough—followed by footsteps rushing in.

Please, please don’t let him find me.

Please, whoever it is, please show up now. Please save me.

Qi Xi prayed silently, eyes squeezed shut.

But her prayer seemed to go unanswered.

Because her closet door was suddenly thrown open, light spilling in from outside.

Before hiding in the closet, Qi Xi had grabbed a fruit knife and kept it with her. Now she gripped it tightly, ready to fight for her life the moment he made a move.

“Qi Xi.”

Just as Qi Xi resolved to make her last stand, a familiar voice suddenly drained all the tension from her body.

It was Gu Yan.

That was Gu Yan’s voice.

After all that overwhelming tension and fear, hearing Gu Yan call her name almost made Qi Xi wonder if she was hallucinating it—until his voice came again—

“Qi Xi, it’s over. Come out. It’s okay. I’m here.”

Gu Yan’s voice was gentle and steady, carrying a reassuring strength, and in that moment Qi Xi finally let go of all the tension—the fruit knife slipped from her hand and fell.

She looked up, and there, outside the closet, was really Gu Yan.

His expression looked like a storm about to break, dark enough that he looked almost murderous. But seeing her, he seemed to relax all at once, the tension draining from his whole body.

Gu Yan’s voice sounded like he was working hard to hold back some emotion. He looked like he had a lot he wanted to say, but in the end he simply looked at Qi Xi and said, low and steady: “You’re okay. That’s all that matters.”

And Qi Xi, who’d been holding back her emotions this whole time—like a child who won’t cry falling down alone, but bursts into tears the moment they spot their mother nearby even over a fall that didn’t even hurt—found the tears suddenly spilling out the moment she saw Gu Yan.

All that fear, dread, and unease seemed to pour out all at once.

**

Holding onto Gu Yan’s hand, Qi Xi finally managed to climb out of the closet. Having crouched too long, her legs gave out and she nearly fell, but Gu Yan caught her in time.

It was probably around then that Gu Yan noticed the tears on her face. The man, whose expression had looked so grim moments ago, now seemed to completely forget his own foul mood, visibly flustered—

“Why are you crying?”

He tried, clumsily, to comfort her: “Don’t cry. I already tied the guy up. Zhao Yiran and the others should be here soon, and the police are on their way too—they’ll take him straight to the station. Nothing’s going to happen to you now.”

Gu Yan was clearly a little rattled, his hands unsure what to do, but eventually he settled on patting her back.

His hand was large and warm, and as he patted her gently, Qi Xi finally felt a real sense of being alive again. Once the tension and panic settled, what remained was that urge to lean on someone.

Almost without realizing it, ever since Gu Yan had pulled her out of the closet, she hadn’t let go of his hand—she gripped his sleeve tightly, almost fearfully, as if holding onto him meant nothing could touch her, as if as long as Gu Yan was there, she was safe.

It was only then, as her emotions gradually settled, that she registered the commotion outside her room, and Zhao Yiran’s voice rang out—

“Qi Xi, Qi Xi, are you okay?”

Along with Zhao Yiran came several of her colleagues. “Don’t worry, we watched the police take that man away. Are you all right?”

Zhao Yiran had arrived with her colleagues in tow.

Almost the next instant, Zhao Yiran came flying into the room from the living room, rushing over to hug Qi Xi, her eyes red from fright, her voice already cracking with tears. “Qi Xi, thank god you’re okay. Don’t be scared anymore, don’t be scared. I’m so sorry, this is all my fault, I got you dragged into this.”

After hugging Qi Xi and calming herself down a little, Zhao Yiran finally turned to look at Gu Yan, still shaken. “Thank you so much, Gu Yan. Thank goodness I mentioned the situation briefly in our class group chat and asked around, worried my colleagues and I wouldn’t make it in time—I was hoping maybe someone from our class nearby could help in an emergency. I never expected you’d happen to live so close by.”

At this, Zhao Yiran turned to Qi Xi. “And thank goodness Gu Yan got here first. By the time we arrived, he’d already subdued the thug and tied him up on the floor.”

Zhao Yiran still looked quite shaken herself. She checked Qi Xi over carefully from head to toe before finally relaxing, and only then did she seem to notice Gu Yan properly, glancing at him.

Except once she actually looked, Zhao Yiran’s voice shot up immediately. “Gu Yan, what happened to your hair?!”

At that, Qi Xi followed Zhao Yiran’s gaze and finally noticed it too—Gu Yan’s hair… that jagged, half-finished cut, like something a dog had chewed on…

Zhao Yiran had no idea what was going on, but Qi Xi, having just parted ways with Gu Yan not long before, needed only a moment’s thought to piece it together.

So…

Qi Xi tugged at the hem of Gu Yan’s shirt. “Did you run over here in the middle of your haircut?”

Gu Yan clearly didn’t want to answer the question, but with Qi Xi staring at him, clearly waiting for an answer, he reluctantly gave a small “mm” of confirmation.

If Gu Yan had found a barbershop near where they’d parted ways, it wasn’t exactly close to Qi Xi’s rented apartment either—the whole trip by taxi would have taken a while.

Looking at his slightly ridiculous haircut, Qi Xi felt a wave of emotion she couldn’t quite put into words welling up inside her.

Gu Yan really was such a good, good person.

Sporting a haircut this laughable, having to walk through a busy part of town, enduring who knows how many curious stares—yet he hadn’t cared at all, rushing straight here the moment he’d heard, not caring in the slightest that his own haircut was left half-finished, all for the sake of her safety.

Qi Xi’s heart began racing uncontrollably.