Lu Zhiling tried to gather her strength, but she was utterly spent, her body a soft, pliant weight against him. To steady herself, she rested her palms on his broad shoulders, her fingers curling into the fine fabric of his shirt. Seeking to break the heavy, intoxicating spell between them, she looked into the fathomable depths of his eyes and whispered, “Thank you for today.”
“Hmm?” Bo Wang murmured. He didn’t pull away; instead, he leaned into the crook of her neck, his lips grazing her collarbone with a heat that made her breath hitch. His voice was a low, lethal rasp that vibrated against her skin.
“Thank you for coming to find me… for everything you did.” She forced a small, fragile smile, though her heart was still hammering against her ribs. “And I’m so sorry. I didn’t realize there was no signal in the woods. I never meant to make you worry.”
Bo Wang remained silent, but his touch grew more deliberate. His fingertips traced the delicate line of her collarbone, his gaze dark and heavy with an intensity that made her feel exposed. Lu Zhiling felt a flush creep up her neck. The intimacy was overwhelming, yet she didn’t dare pull away, and remained trapped in the magnetic pull of his embrace.
“What did your wedding dress look like that day?” he asked suddenly. The question was unexpected, his voice thick with a suppressed, jagged emotion.
“My wedding dress?” Lu Zhiling blinked, her mind momentarily blank before the memory surfaced. “It was a Gao-ding [Haute Couture] piece, taken straight from a Parisian runway. I remember they said it was worth a fortune.” Because it was designed for a runway model’s ethereal frame, it had never felt like hers; it was a costume for a farce. “I haven’t seen it since the ceremony. It was probably returned to the designer or simply discarded.”
Bo Wang’s eyes locked onto hers, a shadow of regret or perhaps resentment flickering there. “I wasn’t there that day.”
“I know,” she replied softly. Her smile was gentle, devoid of any bitterness or hidden thorns. “I know you didn’t want to marry me.”
Bo Wang’s expression darkened, the air between them thickening with a tension she couldn’t name. Suddenly, her phone buzzed on the mahogany table like a lifeline. Seizing the moment, she slid off his lap with practiced grace. “I need to take this. Please, start eating.”
She hurried toward the terrace, the cool night air of the penthouse acting as a balm to her heated skin. It was Gu Na. Her heart skipped—this was the moment that would determine the fate of her project. “Director Gu, I’m so sorry for the way things ended today. I didn’t have a chance to speak with you properly.”
The night was crystalline, the lights along the Qingjiang River shimmering like fallen stars. As she leaned against the railing, a familiar heat enveloped her from behind. Bo Wang had followed her, his large frame caging her against the glass, his presence a silent, possessive weight.
She felt her pulse quicken. Isn’t he supposed to be eating? she wondered, but she couldn’t hang up. Gu Na’s voice, sharp and professional yet tinged with a strange weariness, filled her ear.
“Secretary Lu, I’m calling to tell you that my flight back to Thailand is tomorrow morning. You should find someone else for your project.”
The refusal hit her like a physical blow. After the shared trauma in the forest, she had hoped for at least a crack in Gu Na’s resolve. “Director Gu, please reconsider. I know today was frightening, but I promise you, President Bo will personally ensure your safety. No one will touch you.”
“It’s not about the kidnapping,” Gu Na countered, her voice resolute. “I simply cannot stay in this country. Not for another day, not for another minute.”
A realization dawned on Lu Zhiling. She hesitated, then whispered into the receiver, “Is it because of my brother?”
A profound, suffocating silence followed. On the terrace, the only sound was the snap of Bo Wang’s lighter. A bluish flame flickered in the wind as he lit a cigarette, the smoke curling around Lu Zhiling’s face. He leaned in close, his rough fingertips brushing the sensitive skin of her neck as he tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. The sensation sent a tingle through her nerves, a silent distraction from the tension on the line.
Bo Wang exhaled a slow cloud of smoke, his hand resting casually on the railing beside her. His fingers were long and elegant, the burning ember of the cigarette glowing like a scarlet warning in the dark.
“I understand,” Lu Zhiling said eventually, her voice thick with a sudden grief. If the ghost of the Lu family was what was driving Gu Na away, she had no right to chain her here. “I won’t press you further. I wish you a safe journey, Director Gu.”
There was another long pause. When Gu Na finally spoke, her voice was a hoarse, fractured whisper. “Secretary Lu… I wish you… I wish you a life of endless Chong-ni [spoiled, doting affection/pampering].”
The call went dead. A strange, haunting blessing. Lu Zhiling stood there, the phone pressed to her chest, feeling a wave of inexplicable sadness.
“Couldn’t seal the deal?” Bo Wang asked, his voice low against her ear, the scent of tobacco and sandalwood clinging to him.
“No,” she murmured, leaning back into his solid chest. “She’s leaving.” She looked out at the river, her eyes tracing the wake of a distant ship. “But it’s okay. I’ll find another way. We won’t lose.”
Bo Wang stared down into her brown eyes, seeing the quiet resilience that made her so different from the world he knew. He felt a sudden, dry heat in his throat. “If you want it,” he rasped, “it’s yours. Anything. Anyone.”
The next morning, a text message changed everything. [Secretary Lu, this is Gu Na. I’ve changed my mind. I’m at Guiqi Tower.]
Lu Zhiling didn’t wait. She rushed to her suburban teahouse, Guiqi Tower, only to find a scene that looked more like a crime than a negotiation. Gu Na was slumped in a chair, her eyes covered by a black silk blindfold, an airplane ticket clutched in her hand. She was a statue of icy fury.
Jiang Fusheng, the teahouse manager, looked on helplessly. “A car just pulled up and… dropped her off like a package,” she whispered.
Lu Zhiling’s heart sank. She reached out and gently removed the blindfold. Gu Na’s eyes were daggers of frozen rage.
“If I told you I didn’t kidnap you this time, would you believe me?” Lu Zhiling asked with a dry, pained chuckle.
“Do you vouch for your boss with the same confidence?” Gu Na spat. “I was at the airport gate. His men brought me here.”
Lu Zhiling felt a headache brewing. Bo Wang’s “whatever you want is yours” was apparently a literal promise. “Are you hurt? Did they threaten you?”
“They were polite enough,” Gu Na said coldly. “They simply wouldn’t let me board. I chose the blindfold because I’d rather not see the faces of the men who work for a monster. But I can still call the police.”
“Perhaps… it’s a misunderstanding?” Lu Zhiling tried, though even she didn’t believe it.
“In all of Jiangbei, are you the only one who still thinks he’s a saint?” Gu Na mocked.
Lu Zhiling’s smile faltered. “Evidence is hard to come by,” she whispered.
“Forget it,” Gu Na sighed, her anger giving way to exhaustion. “You saved my life yesterday. We’ll call it even.” She stood to leave, her heels clicking sharply on the floor, but the sound of an approaching truck stopped her.
“Young Master’s car is back!” Feng Zhen’s voice boomed from the yard.
Lu Zhiling opened the door to see a flatbed truck carrying a heavy motorcycle beneath a tarp. It was a sleek, gray-blue machine, its lines aggressive and powerful.
“We finally got it back, Zhiling!” Feng Zhen wiped his brow, grinning. “That collector was a tough nut to crack, but we closed the deal!”
“Thank you, Uncle Feng,” Lu Zhiling said, her eyes lighting up with genuine joy. This was another piece of her family’s legacy restored. But as she turned back, she saw Gu Na.
The director was frozen, her face drained of all color, her eyes fixed on the motorcycle as if she were seeing a ghost.
“Secretary Lu,” Gu Na interrupted, her voice like a winter wind. “You want me to film your drama? I’ll do it. On one condition.” She pointed a trembling finger at the machine. “Smash that motorcycle. Destroy it, and I’m yours.”
Lu Zhiling’s expression went cold. She walked over to the bike, her hand resting on the cold metal. “Director Gu, whatever happened between you and my brother… if he owed you, I will pay the debt.”
“Pay it?” Gu Na laughed, a jagged, hysterical sound. “With what? A life for a life?”
“If that is what it takes,” Lu Zhiling said without hesitation. “But I will not renege on a debt of the Lu family.”
Gu Na faltered, her resolve shaken by the girl’s sheer intensity. “And the debt of the heart? He dumped me. He cast me aside when I needed him most. He told me I was weak, that I wasn’t worthy of the Lu name. I hate him!”
Lu Zhiling looked at the motorcycle, a sense of deep wrongness settling in her chest. Her brother—the man who had cherished her above all else—couldn’t have been that cruel. She noticed a slight unevenness in the paint on the rear fender, a spot worn smooth by frequent touch.
She pressed a hidden catch. A small compartment popped open, revealing a yellowed, rolled-up slip of paper.
She unfurled it. It was a fountain-pen sketch—a girl with flowing hair in a simple dress, her back to the artist. The lines were full of a tender, aching care. Beside it was her brother’s unmistakable handwriting:
[I trade a lifetime of loneliness to ensure you receive a lifetime of love and affection.]
Lu Zhiling felt a lump in her throat. She tried to hide the note, but Gu Na was faster. She snatched it away.
As Gu Na read the words, the world seemed to go silent. Her face turned a sickly, translucent white. “No… it’s impossible…”
A drop of crimson fell onto the paper. Then another.
“Director Gu!” Lu Zhiling cried out in horror.
Gu Na didn’t seem to hear. She stared at the note, her eyes wide with a realization that was shattering her soul. Blood was slowly trickling from the corner of her lips, staining the ghost of a love she had spent years trying to hate.