With her life hanging precariously in the balance, Lu Zhiling didn’t dare hesitate for even a single breath. As the fear was a cold weight in her chest, heavier than the water rising around her ankles. She knew the reputation of the Qingjiang River; it was a silent grave for many, a bottomless expanse that swallowed secrets and lives alike. So to hesitate here was to invite the river to claim her.
The water was no longer just a physical element; it felt alive, like a giant, blood-red maw [a metaphor for the Taotie, a gluttonous creature of Chinese myth that devours everything]. It roared in her ears, pulling at her limbs with a relentless, icy suction. Slowly, the dark surface rose, inching past her collar, her chin, until it surged over her face, extinguishing the light and replacing her oxygen with the metallic taste of river silt.
Just as the darkness began to take hold, a hand—unyielding and powerful—clamped onto her arm. With a violent, sudden jerk, she was hauled upward.
She broke the surface, gasping for air that felt like fire in her lungs. Looking up through wet, clumped lashes, she saw Bo Wang. He was hovering over her, his dark eyes swirling with a storm of complex emotions. There was a look in his gaze she had never seen before—a mixture of feral possessiveness and a haunting vulnerability that he usually kept buried beneath layers of arrogance.
In the next moment, he didn’t just pull her out; he claimed her. He dragged Lu Zhiling into the hard heat of his arms. The force of the movement sent them both falling back against the front seat. The car groaned as they sank deeper, their backs becoming fully submerged in the rising river.
“Lu Zhiling,” he whispered, his voice a low, gravelly vibration that she felt more than ever. “Do you really want me to live that badly?”
Even as the icy water shimmered and swirled around them, threatening to pull them into the abyss, Bo Wang showed no fear. He didn’t look like a man drowning; he looked like a king on a throne of wreckage. He stared into her eyes, searching for a truth she wasn’t ready to give. “Is your love for me truly this deep? Deep enough to die alone so I could walk away?”
Every human being has an innate, selfish will to survive—a ben neng [instinctual drive]. Yet, in those final seconds, she had chosen to sink, to unburden him of her weight.
“How do you have the leisure to say such things?” she hissed, her voice cracking with a mixture of terror and frustration. She nudged his chest, her fingers digging into his wet shirt. “Come on! Didn’t you always look down on me? Didn’t you find me repulsive? Do you really want to die here, with me, of all people?”
She deliberately used his own past disdain as a weapon, trying to provoke the “Old Bo Wang” to act, to save himself. Normally, his response would be a sharp, “Are you even worthy of dying with me?”
But the man holding her today was a stranger. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t sneer. He held her with a terrifying stillness, his eyes locked onto hers as the water reached their chests. “Yes,” he answered calmly.
It was as if the universe had finally offered him something he found valuable enough to die for, and he was simply accepting the terms.
“You really are a pervert,” she breathed, her strength failing.
Bo Wang looked down at her, his gaze intensifying as he watched the water rise toward her throat. “Aren’t you happy?” he asked, his voice dripping with a dark, romantic madness. “To be joined with me in death? To never have to be apart?”
Lu Zhiling felt a strange numbness wash over her. She collapsed into his embrace, the cold of the river becoming a secondary thought to the searing heat of his body. She had fought so hard to live for her family, yet here she was, staring death in the face alongside the man she was supposed to fear.
She looked out the window one last time. A single, wispy white cloud drifted lazily toward the south.
A bitter, fragile smile touched her lips. “Bo Wang… if we die here, will our bodies drift to Jiangnan [the lush region south of the Yangtze, synonymous with ‘home’ and beauty in Chinese culture] with the river?”
If the current was kind, maybe they would find their way to the lands where her family’s roots lay. She could be buried in the soil of her ancestors, even if it was as a ghost.
“Jiangnan?” Bo Wang repeated, his voice sharpening.
Suddenly, a heavy Bang! echoed through the metal frame of the car. A black four-legged grappling hook descended from the sky, its steel claws biting deep into the window frame. With a mechanical roar, the car door was wrenched open, and the suffocating darkness was instantly pierced by a flood of golden sunlight.
Bo Wang didn’t hesitate. He grabbed her, his muscles coiling as he stood up in the rushing water. Lu Zhiling felt a dizzying rush of air as she was hauled out of the vehicle. He protected her with his own body as they were pulled onto the rocky slope. They tumbled together, rolling over the jagged stones until they came to a stop, lying diagonally on the incline with the river lapping at their heels.
She lay there, dazed. The sunlight was a physical weight on her eyelids, piercing and brilliant. She was alive. The air in her lungs felt like a miracle.
She weakly raised her eyes. Bo Wang was reclining leisurely beside her, looking as though he had just stepped out of a high-end lounge rather than a sinking wreck. One hand gripped a black tactical rope. At the other end, silhouetted against the sun on the hilltop, stood Li Minghuai—the man in the hoodie.
Her heart hammered. Li Minghuai was the man sent to “monitor” her—the yan xian [literally ‘salt-thread,’ a term for a spy or informant]. She realized then that she couldn’t hide her sight any longer. If she looked at them too clearly, the game would be over.
“Ugh—” She quickly squeezed her eyes shut, feigning a sharp, agonizing pain. “My eyes… they hurt so much…”
Bo Wang’s relaxed posture vanished instantly. He leaned over her, his shadow cool against her skin. “What’s wrong?”
“It feels like needles… and the light… it’s too bright…” she whispered, playing the part of the recovering blind woman.
“You can see?” There was a rare tremor of surprise in Bo Wang’s voice.
“I… I don’t know…” She shook her head weakly.
Bo Wang didn’t wait for more. He swept her up in his arms. Because her hands were still bound with the nylon cable ties behind her back, she was forced to arch her chest against him, an awkward and intimate position that made her heart race for entirely different reasons.
“Close your eyes. Don’t look at anything,” he commanded.
He wrapped the black rope around his waist and began the steady climb uphill. His shirt and trousers, soaked through, clung to his frame like a second skin. It highlighted the sheer power of his build—the long, corded muscles of his legs and the broad expanse of his shoulders.
Lu Zhiling didn’t listen. She peeked through the slit of her eyelids. His short hair was matted and wet, and droplets of river water traveled down the sharp line of his jaw, falling one by one onto her face.
She looked into his eyes—the eyes that had just looked at death without blinking. Bo Wang, thank you, she thought, the words staying locked behind her teeth.
But as she get setteled in the warm embrace of this dangerous man the ordeal began to took its toll. Anemic and exhausted from the pregnancy, Lu Zhiling’s strength evaporated. So on the drive back, the world became a blur. Her head drifted, eventually coming to rest on Bo Wang’s shoulder.
Li Minghuai, gripping the steering wheel, caught the sight in the rearview mirror. His heart nearly skipped a beat. He saw Bo Wang sitting there, soaked and freezing, yet he didn’t shrug her off. He didn’t push her away. He sat as still as a statue, letting her use him as an anchor.
Li Minghuai realized then that his mission had never been about simple surveillance. Bo Wang wasn’t investigating a suspect; he was protecting a bao bei [a treasure or ‘baby’].
He remembered the chaos at the motorcycle museum. When Bo Wang had kicked in the door, finding only the unconscious Jiang Fusheng and pools of blood, the look on his face had been demonic. He had ridden out on a display bike, tearing through the streets like a man possessed.
This isn’t a tool for procreation, Li Minghuai thought, wiping cold sweat from his neck. This is his life. He was glad he had always been polite to Lu Zhiling; as he had narrowly avoided a death sentence without even knowing it.
Lu Zhiling’s sleep was fitful, filled with dreams of rising red water and Buddhist beads hitting the floor. So when she finally woke, she was greeted by a clinical, sterile light. Someone was prying her eyes open.
“Brother Wang, there’s a reaction! Her pupils are reacting perfectly!”
She flinched back, her vision clearing. She saw Dr. Qin, the family’s trusted physician, and Ji Jing, who was looking at her with a mix of shock and delight.
From this day forward, she no longer had to live in the dark. She no longer had to pretend.
“Can you see clearly?” Dr. Qin asked, his tone professional yet warm.
“Yes,” she whispered, a genuine smile breaking across her face. She looked at Ji Jing, deciding to test her cover. “You… are you Bo Wang?”
Ji Jing, who had been admiring her beauty, nearly fainted. He looked behind her with a face full of horror.
“Are you fucking blind?”
The voice was like a whip. A large, warm hand clamped onto the top of her head, forcibly turning her neck around. Bo Wang stood there, looking devastatingly handsome in a fresh, light-colored shirt.
Locked in his gaze, she finally saw the truth of his features. His eyes were Taohua Yan [Peach Blossom Eyes—eyes that are long, with a slight upward curve, appearing watery and deeply seductive]. They were eyes meant to ruin a woman’s life.
Lu Zhiling, sitting in her hospital gown with a bandage around her throat, looked at him and smiled. “Bo Wang… you’re so handsome.”
Her smile was like the sun breaking through a storm. It wasn’t the dull, vacant expression of a blind woman; it was vibrant, alluring, and deeply feminine.
Bo Wang’s hand stayed on her head for a long moment. He looked at her lips, then at the spark in her eyes, and abruptly turned and walked out.
Ji Jing didn’t dare stay. He scrambled out, babbling, “Boss Lu, I didn’t come to see you! My grandma made me! I have no feelings for you, I swear!”
Outside in the corridor, Bo Wang was leaning against the wall, a cigarette between his teeth. His fingers, usually so precise, trembled as he tried to light it. He took two deep drags, the smoke filling his lungs as he tried to stabilize his pulse.
Ji Jing stumbled out. “Brother Wang…”
Bo Wang looked at him, his eyes like ice. “Ji Jing… you’re good at positioning yourself. The little blind saw you first.”
“I’m leaving “Brother Wang! I have to go wash my grandma’s feet!” Ji Jing fled, nearly tripping over his own shadow.
Inside the ward, Dr. Qin was taking notes. “Two negatives make a positive,” he explained. The trauma that blinded you five years ago—likely a psychological block—had been shattered by the near-death experience in the river.
“How is Fusheng?” Lu Zhiling asked, her voice soft.
“She has a concussion, but she’ll be fine soon ,” Dr. Qin reassured her.
He suggested waiting until after the birth for full neurological exams, a plan Lu Zhiling readily accepted. As Dr. Qin left, Bo Wang returned , with the heavy, masculine scent of tobacco clinging to his clothes.
He sat in the chair next to her bed, his presence alone filling the room. He didn’t speak; he just stared at her with a gaze so oppressive it felt like a physical touch.
“Are you… injured?” she asked, trying to break the tension.
Bo Wang leaned forward, his thin lips curling into a smug, knowing smile. “Why are you so nervous, Lu Zhiling? You were much more composed when you couldn’t see me.”
“I’m just… getting used to the light,” she said, the pause deliberate, the lie gentle enough to pass.
“Then adapt quickly.” He leaned back as he spoke, long legs draping lazily over the edge of her bed. His gaze lingered, sharp and assessing. “Don’t look at me like you’ve been bewitched.”
For now, he seemed content to let her secrets remain buried. Lu Zhiling released a quiet breath she hadn’t realized she was holding. But relief was fleeting. The image of the man in the car surfaced again, vivid and unsettling.
“…How is Uncle Zhang?” she asked.
“Dead.”
Bo Wang’s answer was flat, mercilessly final.
Her brows knit together. “He wasn’t the one who wanted me dead. He was just a pawn.” Her fingers curled slightly beneath the blanket. “Someone is after the child… and they’re after you, too.”
Bo Wang turned to look at her then, his expression impossible to read.
“What?” His lips curved faintly. “You want me to avenge you?”
A low laugh followed—dark, cynical, stripped of warmth. “Or do you think the police will help? The law is nothing but a collection of loopholes for people like us.”
Lu Zhiling said nothing. She didn’t need to argue; she already knew he was right. The mastermind behind everything had moved too cleanly, too perfectly. No trail. No evidence. In this den of lions, she was utterly alone.
Than a shadow suddenly fell across her.
Bo Wang was standing beside the bed.
Before she could react, he leaned down, closing the distance with quiet dominance. One finger hooked beneath her chin, lifting her face until she had no choice but to meet his eyes—deep, dark, and unfathomable, like an ocean that promised drowning rather than mercy.
He didn’t kiss her.
Instead, he tilted his head, his lips grazing the sensitive curve of her earlobe. His breath brushed her skin, warm and intimate, sending a sharp shiver straight down her spine.
Then he spoke—his voice low, dangerous, threaded with temptation.
“Lu Zhiling…”
“Sleep with me once, and I’ll avenge you.” His tone was soft, almost indulgent. “I’ll tear apart anyone who touched you.”
A brief pause.
“How about it?”
Lu Zhiling’s heart stuttered violently.
Was this a test—
or had he truly stepped over the edge into madness?