The forest was a verdant masterpiece, lush and deep, with ancient trees that seemed to have grown out of a Grimm’s fairytale to form a living, breathing castle. Behind the stone towers, slopes covered in pristine white roses rolled toward the horizon, where fountains danced to the ethereal strains of a live piano. Tame deer and rabbits wandered through the elegantly dressed crowd, followed by the delighted laughter of children.
Lu Zhiling moved through the dreamlike setting, her eyes searching the faces of the elite. She held her invitation like a shield, but there was no sign of Gu Na.
“Boss Lu?”
She turned to see Ji Jing approaching, looking like a flamboyant prince in a white suit. He gave her a playful wink. “Actually, I shouldn’t call you Boss Lu anymore. Secretary Lu… it has a certain ring to it.”
“Mr. Ji,” Lu Zhiling replied with a modest smile.
“Where’s Brother Wang ? I was going to give him a royal escort, but he hung up on me.” Ji Jing peered behind her, finding only two stern-faced bodyguards. “And these two? They aren’t my family’s men.”
“President Bo sent me to negotiate with Director Gu. He insisted I take his security,” she explained. In truth, the guards had been a gift from Ding Yujun, as Bo Wang’s philosophy was that no one was trustworthy enough to be left unguarded.
“Is that so? It seems Brother Wang has taken a real shine to you lately,” Ji Jing chuckled. In their circles, affection was a volatile currency, but for now, she was clearly the favored one. “Looking for Sister Gu Na? Try the third-floor dressing rooms. Go on.”
Lu Zhiling ascended the grand circular staircase, the path paved with crushed white rose petals. Every breath she took was saturated with the scent of luxury and romance. However, when she reached the third floor, a guard blocked her path.
“I’m here to congratulate Miss Ji,” she said softly.
“Miss Ji is occupied. She has no time for guests.” The guard suddenly looked toward the stairs and called out, “Director Gu! Those aren’t red roses—you’ve got the wrong bouquet!”
Lu Zhiling’s head snapped around. She caught a glimpse of a woman in a sharp suit carrying a floral arrangement, disappearing into the crowd below. Without a second thought, she gave chase.
She wove through the guests, her heart racing, but abruptly skidded to a halt. Her bodyguard nearly collided with her. “Secretary Lu, what’s wrong?”
“It’s a lure,” Lu Zhiling whispered, her eyes narrowing. “That woman’s gait, the way that suit fits… it’s not Gu Na. Someone is trying to lead us away.”
The bodyguards stiffened, their hands drifting toward their jackets. “Is there a threat? Should we retreat?”
Gu Na was scheduled to fly back to country T immediately after the ceremony. This was Lu Zhiling’s only window. “No. Let’s go back.”
When she returned to the third floor, the guard who had blocked her was gone. The air felt heavy with a sudden, localized wrongness. She was told the bride was resting and Gu Na was “at the ceremony,” but her intuition screamed otherwise.
As she descended to the second floor, a faint, sharp scent of minty tobacco wafted through the hall. She rounded a curved stone wall and found a woman leaning against the masonry. She was striking—neatly cropped hair, exquisite makeup, and a black suit that fit her like a second skin. Between her fingers sat a slender, smoldering cigarette.
Capable, alluring, and dangerous.
“Director Gu.”
Gu Na looked up. The moment her eyes met Lu Zhiling’s, she froze. The cigarette burned unheeded until the cherry fell, her gaze locked onto Lu Zhiling’s face with a haunting, blank intensity.
“Hello. I am Lu Zhiling, Secretary to President Bo of SG Entertainment.” She stepped forward, offering her hand.
Gu Na didn’t move. After an agonizing silence, her gaze dropped to Lu Zhiling’s outstretched hand. Her voice came out hoarse, barely a whisper. “Why are your hands so rough?”
Lu Zhiling was taken aback. “I… I was blind for a time. It’s hard not to accumulate scars when you’re navigating in the dark.”
“You were blind?” Gu Na’s eyes searched hers with a frantic, incredulous hunger.
“Director Gu, have we met?” Lu Zhiling asked, her voice gentle but searching.
Gu Na took a sharp, jagged drag of her cigarette, turning her face away. “No. Never.”
“I see. Well, President Bo sent me because we believe a collaboration with a director of your caliber—”
“I work in Thailand. I have no interest in returning to China.” Gu Na turned to leave, her movements hurried.
“Perhaps we could discuss it over dinner after the wedding?”
“Don’t follow me!” Gu Na snapped, her tone bordering on panic. “I need to change. Do not follow me!”
She fled as if Lu Zhiling were a ghost come to claim a debt.
The wedding ceremony began with all the pomp of a royal coronation. A diamond-encrusted carriage brought the bride through the forest, fountains synchronized to the music, and the air was filled with cheers.
Lu Zhiling clapped with the rest, but her eyes never stopped scanning for a black suit. Gu Na was nowhere to be seen. A cold chill settled in her stomach.
“Find her,” she whispered to the guards. An hour later, they returned empty-handed. Gu Na had vanished.
“Maybe she left for the airport?” one guard suggested.
“No,” Lu Zhiling murmured. “She wouldn’t leave before the vows.”
She turned to leave the venue when a glint of light caught her eye at the forest’s edge. She hurried toward it and found a scrap of black fabric snagged on a white rose bush—the sequins shimmered like dying stars in the sunset.
“Fingerprints,” she warned the guard. “Don’t touch. Call the police.”
Then, from the dark depths of the untamed trees, a sound reached her. A voice, thin and frayed with terror.
“Help… is anyone there? Help…”
“She’s in there,” Lu Zhiling said, her voice dropping an octave.
“We don’t hear anything, Secretary Lu,” the guards said, looking into the gloom.
“Snake! Help! Help me!” the voice cried out again, then went silent.
Lu Zhiling didn’t wait. She plunged into the dark forest, the guards scrambling to keep up. They found her deep within the brush, tied to an ancient oak. Gu Na’s face was a map of scratches, her head lolling. Above her, a serpent coiled on a branch, its tongue flickering inches from her skin.
One guard moved with lethal efficiency, his dagger flashing as he dispatched the snake.
“Director Gu!” Lu Zhiling rushed forward as they cut the ropes.
Gu Na slumped into Lu Zhiling’s arms, her eyes red-rimmed. “How… how did you find me?”
“I was afraid you’d run away,” Lu Zhiling lied gently, not wanting to explain the strange pull she felt toward the woman.
As they helped her up, Gu Na’s ankle gave way. Lu Zhiling caught her, their bodies pressing together in the dim light. Gu Na looked at her—not as a stranger, but with a deep, inscrutable ache—before pulling away.
“I was knocked out near the dressing room,” Gu Na explained. “I woke up here.”
“Director Gu, I hope you know SG would never resort to such… dramatic methods to win a contract.”
“I know,” Gu Na said quietly.
They began the slow walk back, Lu Zhiling using a branch to clear the path for Gu Na’s limping steps. Gu Na watched her every move, her expression unreadable. Eventually, she leaned against a tree. “I’m tired. I’m not moving anymore.”
Lu Zhiling sat on a nearby rock, settling in to keep her company in the gathering dark.
Back in the city, the penthouse was a tomb of silence. Bo Wang stirred on his bed, the white gauze curtains dancing in the breeze from the Qingjiang River. He checked his phone. 7 PM.
There was a message from Lu Zhiling.
[Lu: I went to the wedding. There’s food on the table—heat it if you wake before 2 PM. If not, order takeout. You have to eat.]
Bo Wang scoffed, his mood souring. He walked barefoot into the living room, where the only light came from the blue glow of the fish tank. On the table, the beautiful meal she had prepared sat cold and congealed.
He dialed her number. No answer. He dialed again. Silence.
The dark edges of his temper began to fray. He called Ji Jing.
“Brother Wang! What—”
“Put Lu Zhiling on the phone,” Bo Wang hissed, his voice like a razor.
“Secretary Lu? I haven’t seen her in hours. I thought she left?”
Bo Wang’s grip on the phone tightened until his knuckles turned white. The memory of her drowning in the river—of the way the world tried to snatch her away—flashed through his mind.
“Ji Jing,” Bo Wang said, his voice dropping to a terrifying, lethal whisper. “If even one hair on her head is missing… I will turn your sister’s wedding into a funeral for your entire family.”