As Nan Chu was leaving the set, she was hit by a motorcycle theft — a deep-black heavy motorcycle flashed past her and snatched the bag right from her hand. She thought that was the end of it. Then from behind came the roar of an engine, and a black car came to an abrupt stop. Two men of equal height, wearing black clothes, masks, and black caps — menacing, villainous-looking — climbed out of the car and came straight at her. Before she could react, a hand struck her hard across the face, and they cursed: “You filthy bitch.”

The man had put his full force into it. Nan Chu staggered several steps, nearly lost her footing, and the corner of her mouth split open, blood seeping out.

Her mind went blank for a moment. By the time she came back to her senses, both men had already seized her arms and were hauling her toward the car. She’d spent some time at the army base before, and Lin Luxiao had even taught her a few self-defense moves — but she hadn’t paid serious attention at the time, just imitated a couple of gestures without really learning them. Faced with two large, imposing men, she couldn’t summon much real strength. The only move she remembered was to raise her foot and drive it hard into the groin of the closer man.

The man hadn’t expected her to resist so fiercely and couldn’t dodge in time. He took the full blow — it hit squarely. He grimaced in sharp pain, but then slammed a vicious punch back at Nan Chu. “You filthy bitch, I’ll kill you when this is over!”

These two were clearly not decent men. The hand gripping her arm was merciless — her bones ached all the way to her core, as though they might snap. A wave of fear surged through Nan Chu.

Meanwhile, parked at the side of the road sat a black Bentley.

Jiang Ge was inside it, fuming, giving his men orders — telling those two “enforcers” to stand down — who the hell told you to actually lay hands on her? Dock their pay, dock their pay!

But the trembling reply came back: “Second Young Master Jiang, we haven’t moved yet. Those two aren’t our men.”

Oh god, this was a genuine emergency—

Jiang Ge’s blood pressure spiked.

He puffed up with fury and shoved at the car door — only to be firmly pinned back into his seat by two assistants. “You can’t be rash, sir. We don’t know who those men out there are. If you rush out and they scratch you even slightly, the Old Man will have our heads.”

Jiang Ge couldn’t have known how panicked he looked in that moment — his two assistants pinning him down in the back seat, arms and legs flailing as he kicked at the car door. “Move — someone could die out there!”

The two assistants had been with Jiang Ge since childhood and knew his nature better than anyone. Make a fuss, get held down, give it a while, forget about it — that was the usual pattern. He’d never really let anything get to him. This time, they figured, was probably just a momentary panic too.

Stony-faced, they held firm: “We can call the police, but you cannot get out.”

Jiang Ge kicked until his face flushed and his neck went red, like a wild animal trapped in a cage — eyes going red with frustration. He snapped, tone dropping to something rare and low: “You two — go. Go down there. Don’t let them take her.”

The two assistants exchanged a glance, then both stepped out.

Outside, the struggle was still going on.

The small girl seemed to find some hidden reservoir of strength — one foot braced hard against the car door, refusing to be pushed inside. The two black-clad men finally decided to just pick her up bodily and stuff her into the trunk.

Jiang Ge was truly desperate now — that composed veneer, for once, stripped away completely. He lowered himself enough to speak to the assistants in a way he never did: “Please — just don’t let her get taken away.”

But just as the two stepped out, from somewhere came another young woman — shorter than Nan Chu, a small ponytail, dragging a rolling suitcase in each hand — who came barreling straight into the two black-clad men, all brute force, one suitcase per man, pounding at them without restraint.

It was Xi Gu — she’d turned back around.

The small girl was like a powerfully-built action figure; she didn’t hold back at all. One suitcase swung and connected — the tall man hadn’t shielded in time, took it on the arm. Xi Gu seized the opening and drove a kick straight into his groin with nine-tenths of her full force. The man let out a howl and doubled over, hands flying to protect himself.

Xi Gu had learned a bit of martial arts from her older brother when she was young. Her moves had no real system to them — chaotic and unorthodox — yet somehow impossible to anticipate or counter.

The man exploded in rage. He grabbed Xi Gu by the collar and hoisted her off the ground, then slammed her hard into the car door. Xi Gu couldn’t avoid it — the blow came at her face. Then, just as she braced for it, it stopped. She turned her head sideways — the collar released — she slid down from the car roof. In that instant, she saw two men in black suits enter the fight.

One suit-clad man twisted the attacker’s arm — wrenched it with force. A sharp crack. Snapped. The elbow hung like a broken chopstick. Behind him, another suit swung a knife-hand strike to the neck. The man went blank, body going slack. Then the first attacker staggered, clearly both were outmatched. They exchanged a glance, sensing the tide had turned, jumped back into the car, and hit the gas — they fled.

The assistants went over and helped Nan Chu to her feet.

The girl had been through quite an ordeal — badly shaken, she murmured quietly to them, “Thank you.”

The two assistants looked at each other, then back at her. “Our boss is asking you to get in the car.”

Nan Chu’s body gave a slight shudder.

An assistant added, “No need to be alarmed — it’s Boss Jiang. He has no ill intentions; he just wants to take you home.” They looked over at Xi Gu as well — the girl had also been hurt. During the struggle she’d apparently caught a graze from somewhere; a long streak of blood marked her cheek. “Come with us — we’ll take you both.”

· · ·

Lin Luxiao stood in the long hospital corridor, leaning against the wall, phone raised, a cigarette balanced between his fingers.

Shen Mu’s voice took on a note of something deeper.

“First tell me — how far have things gone between you and that girl?” The corridor had no lights on; only one window was open, and the pale moonlight spilled inside, casting a pale glow, draping itself over the silhouette of the man leaning against the wall — a hard, upright figure, indistinct in the half-dark.

Lin Luxiao didn’t know what he was thinking — head lowered, rolling the cigarette between his fingers, seeming not to have heard.

After a long pause, he answered: “Things are where they should be.”

Shen Mu knew his character — he’d never liked talking through these things. But reading between the lines, Lin Luxiao seemed to genuinely care about the girl. So he couldn’t help himself and said it: “I have a friend. Goes by Jiang Ge.”

Lin Luxiao gave a short, cold laugh. “I know.”

“Jiang family’s youngest — all the old men in the family dote on him, whatever he does someone covers for him. Women beyond counting. Word is he slept with three girls in one night at eighteen. Likes big busts and long legs. A while back, he was involved in that rumor with the girl too — and just now, he’s the one who saved her.”

“Lucky bastard.” Dismissive.

“He just came to find me. You want to guess what he said?”

Lin Luxiao put the cigarette to his lips, reached into his trousers pocket for the lighter, and then heard from the other end: “He told me: Shen Mu — I think I might mean it this time.”

Shen Mu and Jiang Ge went way back. Shen Mu’s father, after leaving the service, had gone into business with Jiang Ge’s father, and the two families had been close ever since. The Jiang family’s old patriarch had a particular fondness for Shen Mu — Jiang Ge barely let anyone tag along on his outings, but Shen Mu was always the exception. So much so that whenever Jiang Ge had something on his mind, Shen Mu was the first person he’d find.

Jiang Ge had narrated the whole sequence of thoughts he’d had in the car — an experience he’d never had in all his twenty-some years of living. Watching Nan Chu get hit, he felt his heart twist. When the assistants wouldn’t let him out, he’d nearly flipped the entire car. Watching Nan Chu almost get dragged away, he’d used the softest, most pleading tone he’d probably ever used with the assistants in his life.

Even something like — if anything happened to Nan Chu, he might go mad.

He thought he might genuinely like this girl. Not just wanting to sleep with her.

But liking her, and therefore wanting to sleep with her.

This realization frightened him. How could he possibly truly fall for a woman?

Even so, it only made him more determined to get Nan Chu into bed.

Shen Mu relayed every word verbatim to Lin Luxiao.

“Tell him to come find me.”

Classic Lin Luxiao.

Three words. The person who heard them felt a chill run down their spine.

· · ·

Lin Luxiao hung up, smoked two more cigarettes in the doorway, then called Nan Chu twice more — still switched off. He only then realized, belatedly, that the girl’s phone had been snatched along with everything else.

When he went back inside, Lin Qingyuan had his arms crossed, expression composed, resting against the headboard.

The night had grown deep. Lin Luxiao tossed his jacket, unfolded the cot, and lay down. “You’re not sleeping yet?”

Lin Qingyuan slanted a look at him. “Sit up. I have something to say to you.”

Probably remembering what Secretary Zhang had said before she left, Lin Luxiao exhaled, sat up, and said plainly: “Say it.”

Lin Qingyuan: “End things with that girl.”

Lin Luxiao leaned against the headboard, looked at him, and said mildly: “All right. Anything else? If not, I’m going to sleep.”

He finished, unbothered, and lay back down.

“Get up — have I finished?”

“What else do you want to say?”

Lin Qingyuan knew his nature. He’d been like this since he was small — Lin Qingyuan gave a cold snort. “Don’t play games with me. I told you to end it, so end it. Don’t just sit there going ‘all right, all right,’ and then go right back behind my back. Don’t think I don’t know what you’re thinking — I’m your father. You think I don’t know your character? No discipline on the outside, but not genuinely bad. Don’t give me that smooth act and then do whatever you like in secret.”

Lin Luxiao hadn’t actually been playing any act — he genuinely didn’t want to deal with this right now, and risk upsetting the old man further. But since it had come to this, he couldn’t be bothered to pretend either. “Can’t end it.”

“Why not? You’ve only known each other a short while.”

Lin Luxiao stretched his arm. “By my count it’s been about five years.”

Lin Qingyuan: “…”

“And today I promised her that no matter what happens, I won’t abandon her. You always raised me not to break my word — that’s something you drilled into me. If you want me to end it now, isn’t that a slap across your own face? I can’t do it.”

A natural-born master of sophistry.

Lin Qingyuan stared back at him, coldly amused. “Did you swear on anything?”

Lin Luxiao: “I swore on Chairman Mao’s spirit, in front of the national flag.”

“Get out!” Lin Qingyuan erupted, and grabbed the nearest thing — a water cup — and hurled it hard at him. Lin Luxiao didn’t dodge. It landed squarely on his brow bone. The bone there was solid — it hurt on impact but caused no real damage. Lin Qingyuan had always aimed for that spot since he was a child.

Lin Luxiao spent the rest of the night crouched in the corridor.

Secretary Zhang arrived early in the morning, took one look, and asked quietly: “You slept out here last night?”

Lin Luxiao rubbed his eyes, barely slept, almost none of it — the wooden bench was hard as stone.

Secretary Zhang: “Did you upset him again?”

He, lazily: “How would I dare?”

Secretary Zhang patted his shoulder. “All right — go home, clean up, get some sleep. Look at the state of you. You’ve even got stubble coming in.”

“You’ve worked hard.”

Lin Luxiao raised a proper military salute, turned, and left.

Secretary Zhang watched his straight, upright back retreating down the hallway, and shook her head. This young man — when he was out of line, there was nothing anyone could do about him. Yet he had a way of doing just enough to frustrate you while making it impossible to truly fault him. The wild spirit and the chivalrous integrity in him were a rare thing in this generation.

Secretary Zhang picked up the things she’d brought and went in. “Good morning, sir.”

Lin Qingyuan flicked a glance her way. “The kid gone?”

Secretary Zhang set things down. “Just left. He spent the night curled up on the chair — he’s got stubble coming in, and those eyes look worse than the pandas in the zoo. Among the young people around here, Luxiao is actually the responsible one. Don’t always be so hard on him. I’ve heard quite a few things lately, and I keep thinking this generation is lacking backbone — nothing like how we were back then. Like that news story a while back, the young couple walking down the street got mugged, and the boyfriend dropped the girlfriend and ran. And a new recruit during training who cried and shook in terror at the very sight of the drill instructor. And someone who sold out a friend for personal gain. Think about it — would Luxiao ever do any of that? He has plenty of faults, but he’d never pull a stunt like those. Remember what Commander Meng said about him early on? He watched Luxiao pull an elderly woman out of a burning building, only to have her die right there in front of him. He didn’t hesitate — he pried her mouth open and gave her CPR. Even her family stood there stunned. That woman’s only son hadn’t lifted a finger, and with a long illness there’s no such thing as a dutiful child. The old saying holds. But you truly don’t need to worry — this kid would never abandon you. What more can an old man ask for than that his son is there for him? That’s all that matters, isn’t it?”

A long silence. Then, after a while, came Lin Qingyuan’s voice, quiet: “The old saying goes — performers have no feeling, I’m just afraid this kid throws himself in headfirst and comes out hurt.”

· · ·

Lin Luxiao had been knocking at Nan Chu’s door for a long while — no one came.

He knocked two more times with his fist. Still nothing.

He stood there at the door, one hand on his hip, called Shen Mu: “You sure she’s home?”

Shen Mu laughed. “She is. She had a bit of a fright — her company gave her the day off.”

“Then why isn’t she opening the door?”

“Then you’d better reflect on whether you’ve done something to make the young lady unhappy.”

“Get out of here.”

“She even opened the door for Jiang Ge.”

“He went inside her place?”

“Of course — how else did he drop her off?”

Lin Luxiao hung up.

He stood staring at the door for a moment, considered something, then turned and went to the neighboring door and knocked.

It opened to reveal an elderly woman — very kind-looking.

Lin Luxiao snapped to attention and gave a salute — proper, dignified, expression composed, voice more solemn than he’d ever managed during any actual rescue: “Hello. I’m a squad leader with the Western Suburbs Special Operations Unit. We’ve just received a report of a person trapped in the neighboring apartment. I need to borrow your balcony.”

The elderly woman, hearing someone was trapped, was deeply alarmed. And faced with such an upstanding, clean-cut young man, she welcomed him in without a second thought — she didn’t even pause to wonder why the special operations team had sent just one person, or why he hadn’t shown any identification.

He walked out onto the balcony and surveyed the situation.

The two apartments were side by side. He jumped up, grabbed onto the awning on the wall with his bare hands, and began working his way across. The old woman had only then started to feel something wasn’t quite right. “Young man — you’re going up like that?”

Lin Luxiao smiled back at her. “It’s fine — no time to get equipment.”

“But this is the ninth floor.”

The gap between the two balconies was narrow — ordinarily impossible for a normal person to cross. But for him it was nothing. He’d scaled a skyscraper over a hundred stories tall once. Now that had made his legs shake.

· · ·

Nan Chu came out of the shower wrapped in a bath towel — and found someone sitting on her bed, an unlit cigarette between his teeth, watching her.

“You… how did you get in?”

Lin Luxiao laughed softly, reached out and pulled her toward him, pressed her down onto his lap, buried his face in the curve of her neck, and took a long breath. The cigarette was still at the corner of his mouth. A woman’s fragrance — mixed with the faint trace of tobacco — his voice came out slightly low. “Why didn’t you open the door for me.”

His breath was warm and damp, almost tingling where it landed.

“I was in the shower — I didn’t hear anyone knock.” Nan Chu felt something stir in her chest; she reached up and pushed at his head. “How did you get in?”

Lin Luxiao lifted one hand and pointed.

The bedroom floor-to-ceiling window was wide open, the curtains drifting in the breeze, as if welcoming this uninvited guest.

Nan Chu’s heart lurched. “Are you insane? This is the ninth floor!”

Lin Luxiao took the cigarette from his lips, tossed it aside, lowered his head, and kissed her neck. “Yes. Went a little crazy missing you.”

Nan Chu tried to push his head away. “Lin Luxiao!”

He was relentless — lips tracing down the curve of her neck, pausing at her collarbone, where he pressed a hard, lingering kiss. “You didn’t miss me? Hm?”

Honestly — she had missed him.

Lin Luxiao knew this little troublemaker was probably still annoyed with him.

“Last night my dad was admitted to the hospital. I got pulled in to the hospital last minute, I stayed the night there. I called you — you didn’t answer. I called all night and got nothing. Then I found out you’d been through something.” He finally lifted his head, cupped the back of her head in his hand, smoothed her hair, tipped her face to him. “Let me see — who hit my girl.”

From the time it had happened until now, Nan Chu hadn’t actually felt that much. She’d been tough about it — so what if she’d been hit? It wasn’t as if it had never happened before. She’d endured worse.

But people are just like that sometimes. You can take a thousand arrows from the world, let every wound tear wide open, and not shed a single tear.

Yet all it takes is one question from the person you love.

And suddenly you feel as though you’ve suffered the most terrible injustice imaginable. Absolutely absurd.

But Nan Chu had never been one to pour her grievances out to anyone. Even though she was moved, her expression stayed composed. “It’s fine — minor injuries.”

Lin Luxiao looked her over from head to toe, inside and out.

Swollen cheek, split corner of the mouth, bruising on her arms and shoulders — marks that looked like a man’s fingerprints.

The man said nothing. One hand held her chin. His thumb traced slowly back and forth along the edge of her split lip — almost like a caress — brows slightly arched, eyes holding a softness, a depth, as though he was turning something over in his mind, forming some kind of decision.

What decision?

Lin Luxiao sat on the bed. Nan Chu sat on his lap, hands looped around his neck, forehead pressed to his forehead, nose tip grazing along his cheek.

“You came to see me — I’m very happy. But next time, no more climbing through windows. I’ll have a key made for you.”

As she said this, a water droplet rolled from the tips of her hair, tracing down her pale neck, all the way down, slipping into the shadow below her collarbone — and disappeared.

Lin Luxiao tilted his head up, caught her lips with precision, and flipped her beneath him on the bed, kissing her deeply — almost biting. He bit down a few times, then sucked her lower lip hard, tangling with her tongue, giving her no chance to breathe.

“Is this all right?”

He was pressing her down beneath him, knees straddling her, both her hands lifted and pinned above her head, voice rough as he asked.

Nan Chu didn’t say whether it was or it wasn’t.

Instead she hooked her legs around his waist, tilted her head back, and kissed the base of his ear.

In an instant — mind blown apart. Lin Luxiao yanked her towel loose, revealing a girl’s slender, slight body — and she was wearing nothing underneath.

Eyes going red, he lowered his head and kissed her deep. “Waiting for me, were you?”

Nan Chu kissed him back, seeking his tongue.

Just one thought left in her head.

Devour him. Devour him.

She was more eager than he’d expected. Lin Luxiao laughed and pulled back slightly. “Hold on.”

Nan Chu was even more impatient than he was. “Hold on what.”

“…” Lin Luxiao grinned. “Pull the curtains — can’t just let anyone look in. The old lady next door is still there.”

· · ·

Lin Luxiao undid the buttons one by one from the bottom up, eyes fixed on the girl on the bed.

The girl was staring shamelessly at his bare chest, gaze drifting steadily downward, landing on his raised abdominal muscles. Lin Luxiao bent down over her. “What are you looking at?”

“Good figure.” No shame in it whatsoever.

Lin Luxiao lowered his head and kissed slowly down her neck. “Yours isn’t bad either.”

“34D.”

Lin Luxiao had no frame of reference. He cupped his hand and tried it for comparison. “Nice to the touch.”

Nan Chu, following his example, reached over and wrapped her hand around his through the fabric. “You’re not bad yourself.”

In truth, neither of them had any experience.

Yet both were acting like seasoned veterans, trying to bluff the other.

Nan Chu’s eyes grew hazy as she asked him: “When was the last time you were intimate with someone?”

Lin Luxiao kissed his way to her abdomen and paused, then looked up at her: “And you?”

· · ·

Just before they came together, Lin Luxiao shook the starry-eyed girl back to awareness. “Are you sure? You still have time to back out.”

Nan Chu arched her back, body pressing downward, slowly, teasingly. “You’re already like this — and you think you can still stop?”

“Ah—!”

Before he could respond, Nan Chu let out a sudden low cry as her whole body surged with heat—

The man above her wore a crooked grin, dark eyes fixed deeply on her: “Keep it down — the old lady next door. Don’t go corrupting her.”

And then he lowered his head and caught her lips in a deep kiss.

Nan Chu wrapped both arms around his neck. Both her dark pupils were filled with mist. Long lashes quivering faintly. The picture of helpless innocence — yet flushed with desire. Lin Luxiao was breathing ragged in her ear. “I’ve waited so long for this—!”

The girl was hurting more and more, begging for mercy, voice after voice. “Captain…”

“Hm?” Lin Luxiao’s voice, caught in the haze of sensation, was low and heavy.

“It hurts.”

Her voice had already taken on the edge of tears.

As she spoke, Lin Luxiao went still. A strange look crossed his face.

Nan Chu stared at him, disbelieving, and looked down — “You… already?”

· · ·

She turned her head and looked at the clock.

Wait a moment.

Five minutes?!