Four years eight months ago:
Deep within the suffocating cold of the Li Clan's secret base, she had been summoned right after the clan elders' meeting. The heavy mandate had been handed down.
Her figure appeared as a quiet blur, her boots making absolutely no sound as she stepped out from the thick shadows of the room.
she was clad in a black assassin suit that fit her petite curvaceous figure like a second skin
A tactical belt sat low on her hips, holding the leather sheaths where her dual reinforced steel daggers rested. Strapped securely around her thighs were rows of throwing needles and kunai knives. A mask covered the lower half of her face, leaving only her sharp eyes exposed to the dim lighting of the room.
A man was already waiting for her in the dimly lit meeting room when she arrived.
Her gaze locked onto his ragged, unkempt beard and the large, deep slash scar running across his face, and he held a large Cuban cigar between his thick fingers.
"There's a new mission, and the clan has chosen you to do it. This is your new target," he said, his rough voice scraping against her ears as he tossed a heavy brown envelope onto the round wooden table. He proceeded to strike a match to light his Cuban cigar, the acrid, choking smoke instantly filling the small room and making her chest tighten.
"Your target this time will not be an easy mark. You are to infiltrate the company, embed yourself in his inner circle, and execute him when the time is right. There is a multi-billion dollar contract on the line to be signed in six months, and our client wants him dead before the deal goes through."
Her fingertips felt cold as she reached out, her hands shaking slightly as she ripped through the thick wax seal. She pulled out the paper file, her eyes scanning the contents in a calm, composed manner.
"Isn't this the CEO of Xiao Lei International?" Her voice was flat, though a faint, fragile tremor threatened to break through her icy mask. A cold dread settled deep in her stomach; she already knew this was not going to be easy. "Who could possibly want a man of his standing dead?"
"Lian-er, we are assassins. We do not ask questions, we simply execute the targets," he replied with a cold snort as he flicked a cylinder of gray ash onto the floorboards with the tip of his finger.
"Our family has maintained our reputation in this business for generations. If you pull this off, the Li Clan's prestige will spike, and the underworld will flood us with contracts."
He paused, the glowing crimson ember of his cigar illuminating the harsh, terrifying lines of his face, which suddenly twisted into an ambitious smile.
"Furthermore, Lian-er, remember that this will be your final mission. Once the CEO is dead, you will return to fulfill your ultimate role to our family."
He violently extinguished the glowing cigar against a metal tray, the heat dying instantly as a thin, twisting trail of gray smoke drifted toward the ceiling.
"A marriage alliance has already been brokered with the most powerful clan in the syndicate and to ensure we remain the dominant side in the underworld pact. As the eldest daughter of our family, your success in this assassination is paramount. I have high hopes for you, Lian-er. Your success is the clan's success."
"Yes, Father," she murmured, her throat closing up as she bowed low.
Before the heavy smoke could even clear from the air, her silhouette seemed to blur, completely disappearing back into the safety of the room's thick shadows.
A/N: A journey of a thousand miles begins with a single step.
You cannot understand or finish the journey if you skip the very first step... make sure to read the prologue. : )
****
"Two pieces of bread, please!" a customer ordered, handing over a handful of coins.
"Yes! Coming right up!" Mr. Li replied, his hands covered in a light layer of white dust as he packed the fresh loaves into a brown paper bag.
They were at a small bakery located right at the edge of the bustling Xinchuan City marketplace.
Business was absolutely booming today, and the elderly couple who ran the bakery, the Lis, were visibly struggling to keep up with the constant inflow of hungry customers. The little bakery's reputation had grown massively over the past few months, all because of a secret family recipe that always made their bread taste otherworldly delicious.
"Darling!" Mrs. Li cried out from behind the wooden counter, wiping her sweating brow with the edge of her sleeve. "The flour is almost completely depleted! Go and get some more from the storeroom right now!"
"Alright, alright, I'm going!" he shouted back.
Old Mr. Li set his packing paper down, untied his flour-dusted apron, and made his way toward the storeroom at the very back of the building.
The structure sat right beside the dense Kulon riverbed an eerie, neglected area overgrown with thick patches of tall reeds and dark marshes.
As he stepped out of the back door, the local frogs began croaking eerily filling the old man's body with goosebumps. Shaking off the chill, he clicked on his flashlight, its bright beam cutting through the gloom as he headed toward the storage shack.
Halfway down the path, the flashlight beam caught something unusual on the stone tiles. There were heavy, wet patches on the ground, clearly coming up from the riverbed and leading straight toward the storeroom entrance.
He slowed his pace, following the trail, and soon noticed deep, dark traces of blood mixing into the water. The puddles grew redder and redder with every step he took.
He followed the crimson trail until he arrived at the storeroom where he froze in absolute shock. The heavy wooden door had been violently broken down by someone, the splintered frame hanging loose on its hinges. The bloody wet patches continued directly past the threshold, disappearing into the pitch-black interior.
Old Mr. Li proceeded with extreme caution. He stuck his head in first, peering into the shadows before slowly entering the rest of his body into the quiet room.
"Hello? Is someone in here?" he inquired, his voice trembling slightly as he raised the flashlight.
No one answered. The only sound was the croaking of the frogs outside and the dripping of water somewhere in the dark.
He continued to follow the crimson trail across the floorboards until the beam of light found that it ended directly behind the massive, towering pile of wheat flour sacks stacked in the far corner.
"Is anyone there? I have a weapon!" he warned loudly, picking up a wooden rolling pin from a nearby shelf.
Moving forward with a racing heart, he leaned over the stack and peered into the narrow gap behind the sacks.
There, huddled into a tight, shivering ball, was a young woman. Her white dress was torn to shreds, soaked in thick mud and dark river water, the fabric stained heavily with her own blood. She had her legs pulled tightly against her chest, clumping herself together like a lost, broken child hiding from a terrifying monster.
She raised her face slowly, her wide, vacant eyes catching the glare of his flashlight through the messy, wet strands of hair covering her face. She opened her mouth to speak but not a single word broke free. She just stared at him in silence.
The sheer emotional and physical exhaustion finally crushed her remaining strength. Her head dropped forward against her knees, her fingers let go of the torn fabric of her dress, and she fainted before she could even utter a sound.
Old Mr. Li stood alone in the storeroom for a long moment, listening to the frogs croak in the dark outside and the soft, shallow sound of her breathing.
Then he set the rolling pin down, very carefully, on the shelf beside him. He bent down and gathered her into his arms, she weighed almost nothing, or perhaps it only felt that way because he held her the way he had once held his daughter.
He carried her out of the storeroom, through the back door, past the reeds and the blood trail and the dark river beyond, and brought her inside.
"Darling," he called out, his voice very quiet as he stepped through the kitchen door. "We have a guest."
An hour ago...
Li An Ruo woke up to the taste of iron and stale swamp water in her mouth, her face half-buried in freezing, stagnant muck. A blinding, throbbing pain pulsed violently inside her head, radiating outward from her hairline.
"Cough! Cough—!"
A violent spasm racked her chest, making her cough raggedly as her lungs convulsed to eject the murky swamp water that clogged her throat and settled deep in her stomach.
She tried to sit up, but her aching muscles gave out instantly and she fell back down into the freezing muck, her body refusing to lift more than a few inches off the ground. She collapsed flat on her back, coughing raggedly as her lungs convulsed to eject the murky swamp water that was still blocking her windpipe.
Moments later, when she could finally breathe, she tried to force her eyes open, but her eyelids felt entirely sealed shut, refusing to break past the crusted mud gluing them together.
Trying to rely on her other senses, she realized her ears were completely blocked too, filled with a cold, slow-flowing liquid that muffled the rest of the world into a distant hum.
So cold.
Shivering violently, she moved her trembling, pale hand to her head. Her fingers brushed against a deep, ragged laceration near her hairline. Her skin was swollen with thick, clotted blood.
As her touch wandered down her face and neck, her fingers caught on dozens of sharp, stinging edges. Her skin was plastered with small lacerations. The dried blood from the glass shards had mixed with the swamp silt, making every movement of her facial muscles sting with burning irritation.
Gritting her teeth against the wave of dizziness that followed, she managed to move her other arm, her calloused fingers digging deep into the wet, freezing mass. She felt raw mud beneath her palm; the heavy river silt had settled deep into the narrow creases of her knuckles, anchoring her to the earth.
Next came a sharp, scraping pain in her throat. Every shallow, frantic breath she drew felt as though her throat had dry sand trapped inside it, choking her from the inside out.
Her whole body was a war zone of aches, every single muscle group tightly coiled and screaming in agony, feeling as though she had been thrown from a skyscraper.
Gradually, the eyelids that had been sealed tight began to part. Her vision was a useless, watery blur at first, dark spots dancing at the edges of her sight.
She blinked against the damp air until the shapes above slowly solidified. Looking up, she saw a dark, stormy sky that held only the pale glow of the moon and a few scattered stars.
When she had gathered just enough strength to override the pulsing ache in her skull, she slowly struggled to sit upright. Every single inch of her body screamed at her to stop, but she refused to lie flat in the dirt.
Where am I?
She slowly scanned her surroundings, and a wave of confusion washed over her.
She looked down at herself. She was wearing a wedding dress. Or rather, what was left of one. The once-magnificent white satin was shredded to ribbons, heavily stained with dark swamp mud and soaked through with cold water. But worse than the mud were the dark, crimson blooms spreading across the fabric — stains of fresh, drying blood.Her own blood.
A wedding dress? Is this mine? Did I get married? Why is there so much blood?
Her breathing increased, a cold sweat breaking out across her forehead despite the freezing air as she gasped, entirely out of breath.
Who am I?
The thought struck her like a physical blow.
Think. Think! What is my name? Why can't I remember my name?
She searched her mind, desperately reaching for a name, a face, a single memory of where she was or how she had ended up bleeding in a swamp.
Nothing. There's nothing there. Who am I? God, who am I?!
But she found nothing. There was only a blank slate. Her mind was a completely shattered mirror, reflecting absolutely nothing but fractured fragments that she could not piece together at the moment.
She was entirely surrounded by towering, shadowed reeds, stranded right by a marshy riverbank in murky, stagnant water. Her vision was heavily limited due to the dense walls of tall papyrus reeds, making it impossible to see what threats lay beyond her immediate space.
Thump! Thump!
Her heart hammered violently against her ribs. She was completely exposed out here. If whoever had caused her head injury and left her for dead in a wedding dress returned, she was a sitting duck. She had to move out.
She began to crawl out of the thick reeds, dragging her heavy, waterlogged limbs through the muck. Every single movement felt like walking through fire. The misty paths beyond were completely deserted with no sign of humans around.
Then, under the pale moonlight, her eyes locked onto a small wooden shack sitting a few yards away. She tried to stand up, but the moment she shifted her weight, a sharp, blinding pain tore through her thigh, causing her to fall violently back down into the mud.
Sh**!
She cursed under her breath, her hand flying down to her leg. Her fingers brushed against a sticky, warm wetness. She was bleeding heavily. Her fingertips traced a neat, punctured entry point in her flesh, and she instantly realized the chilling truth — she had been shot in the leg.
A gunshot wound? Someone shot me? Why? Who is trying to kill me?!
Determined to survive, she tried standing a second time, careful not to apply too much pressure to her left leg. Balancing her weight on her right foot, she slowly started limping forward, nearing the small shack.
The wooden door was tightly locked, but she didn't care about the barrier. Leaning forward, she slammed her right shoulder violently into the wood. The latch splintered with a sharp crack as she found her way inside.
She made her way deep into the shadows of the building until her hands brushed against a massive, towering pile of wheat flour sacks. She immediately hid behind it, compressing her body into the tight gap between the sacks and the wall. She didn't know who she was, but her mind understood she was in danger.
Ensuring she was temporarily safe, she turned her attention to the bleeding wound on her leg. Her conscious memory was a total blank, yet her fingers moved with the flawless discipline of a machine. Just as she had been trained in a past life she couldn't remember, she dipped her fingers directly into the raw wound, using her knuckles to gauge the depth. She searched for the bullet, quickly locating the cold metal slug lodged just beneath the muscle.
Her face didn't even twitch. With a sharp jerk, she pried the bullet out of her flesh and dropped it into the dirt.
She stared at her own hand for a long moment, surprised by what she could do herself. Somewhere deep in the dark of her missing past, she had done this before. She just didn't know when.
Reaching down, she violently tore a long, thick strip of fabric from her ruined white satin wedding dress.
Working in the dark, she wrapped the satin tightly around her thigh, knotting it to seal the bleeding.
The freezing current blew straight through the open, broken door of the shack, causing her entire frame to shiver violently. The temporary adrenaline was finally fading, leaving her to face the immense, throbbing pain of her raw wound, the sting of the countless glass cuts across her skin, and the crushing exhaustion of her escape.
She pulled her knees tightly together, hugging them against her chest as she sat tucked behind the flour sacks. She fought desperately to keep herself awake, but her memory was a shifting haze, and her consciousness was rapidly slipping back into the dark, as though it was hanging by a thread.
Stay awake... please, just stay awake...
Just as her consciousness was drifting in and out, a bright beam of light shone into the room, cutting through the shadows.
"Hello? Is someone in here?" a voice inquired, trembling slightly somewhere near the entrance.
Footsteps followed, vibrating through the wooden floorboards beneath her. She held her breath, compressing herself tighter against the wall, but she knew the trail of blood had already betrayed her.
"Is anyone there? I have a weapon!" the voice warned loudly, sounding much closer now.
A weapon? No, no, no! They found me. They're going to finish it. Move! I need to get out of here!
Panic surged through her veins like liquid fire. Her heart hammered so violently against her ribs it felt like it would burst, and her breathing spiked into frantic, shallow gasps.
She desperately tried to claw at the dirt floor to drag herself deeper into the dark, but her muscles were paralyzed from the cold and they refused to obey.
The light swept closer, until a tall silhouette appeared directly in front of her a man holding what looked like a weapon in his hand.
The harsh ray of the torch fell right onto her face, burning her sensitive eyes.
She blinked against the blinding glare, her wide, vacant eyes catching the light through the messy, wet strands of hair covering her face. She desperately wanted to call out, to scream, but not a single word broke free. Her throat remained locked in silence.
As she stared up at the blinding shape, the sheer physical exhaustion and the sudden, overwhelming terror of being cornered crushed her remaining strength. Her vision grew completely dark, her eyelids felt impossibly heavy, and her head dropped forward against her knees. Her fingers let go of the torn fabric of her wedding dress, and she was entirely swallowed by the darkness.
The setting sun's golden rays bled across the horizon, painting the sky and Xinchuan City in a brilliant, suffocating gleam. At the absolute center of the city stood the majestic Xiao Lei Tower, Xiao Lei International's main office building— a grand architectural marvel hailed as one of the tallest structures in the city and renowned for its high-level security.
At the very top of the building, she stood at the edge of the roof. The fierce, high-altitude wind whipped violently against her skin, freezing her cheeks and causing her long hair to tangle wildly across her face. She did not bother to push it away.
The sprawling view of the city beneath her was absolutely stunning, but her heart hammered too loudly against her ribs for her to care. She looked down at the street far below, watching the cars transform into tiny, meaningless specks of moving light. A crushing weight pressed hard against her chest. She knew, with a terrifying certainty, that there was no other way out of the dark corner she had been backed into.
If she stayed on this roof, her own traitorous heart would betray everything she was meant to be. Her hands shook violently against her sides, her trembling fingers exposing the agonizing hesitation she fought so desperately to hide.
She took a slow, deep breath, letting the icy mountain air burn her lungs for what felt like the very last time, trying to convince herself to let go. She closed her eyes. She let her body tilt forward into nothingness, and stepped off into the open air.
The roaring wind vanished. The entire world went completely silent as her body entered a terrifying, weightless freefall toward the ground below.
Then—
SNAP!
With a deafening, mechanical crack, the heavy-duty tactical rope anchored to the structure snapped taut, arresting her terminal descent with a violent, bone-rattling jerk that vibrated through her teeth. The specialized line hissed sharply against her heavy leather gloves as her momentum swung her violently against the vertical terrain of her own subconscious.
****
With a violent gasp, she snapped awake.
The howling wind and the terrifying freefall of Xiao Lei Tower dissolved instantly, replaced by the suffocating, heat of her own body burning under a thick patchwork quilt. The rope was gone. The skyscraper was gone.
Her fingers clawed desperately at the fabric over her chest, her breathing shallow and frantic as she tried to force her lungs to accept the warm, dry air of the room.
She tried to move, but her body felt entirely numb as if she had been wrapped tightly in a bag, thrown into a blazing oven, and left to cook from the inside out.
Her skin was drenched. Cold beads of sweat prickled across her collarbone despite the intense heat radiating from the small iron stove in the corner. Her skull felt like it had been cracked open as a massive head ache throbbed inside.
Her eyes darted around, assessing the small room. The last thing she remembered was hiding behind a massive pile of flour sacks in a dark wooden shack, paralyzed with horror as a blinding flashlight beam cut through the shadows and a looming silhouette closed in on her, shouting about a weapon.
She was surprised to find herself in this small white room instead with a thick blanket lay over her.
She managed to raise her head by a fraction and look down under the blanket. Her eyes widened in shock.
Her entire body was wrapped in tight white cotton bandages, leaving her looking akin to a mummy from ancient Egypt.
She was covered from her thighs to her toes, and from her waist upward, leaving only her facial features exposed. Her torn dress was gone and in its place, someone had dressed her in an oversized, old t-shirt, which had ridden up past her ribs during the night, bunching under her arms, exposing her twin peaks. Below her waist, she wore nothing but a thin pair of silk undergarments.
Where am I? How did I get here? I need to get out of here!
Panicked thoughts raced through her mind. She moved her arm and shoved the quilt aside.
The warm air from the stove hit her exposed skin, causing it to be flushed red.
Then the realization hit her like ice water.
Someone had seen her like this. Had undressed her. Had touched her while she lay there completely unconscious.
Her jaw clenched. She did not believe she was safe. Her fingers curled into the mattress. She got a grip on her hands and tried to sit upright, but a sharp pang of pain shot across her body, causing her to fall back on the bed with a heavy thud.
A wave of dizziness followed.
click
The door clicked open.
They're here.
Her eyes widened in panic.
Whoever it was was coming for her. But she soon realized that that was the least of her problems when she looked down at her exposed body.
Eek!
A sharp shriek tore out of her throat before she could swallow it. She grabbed frantically for the quilt, yanking it up over her chest with her clumsy, half-numb hands but her arms refused to cooperate, her fingers fumbling uselessly as the door swung open.
An old woman with white-graying hair stepped into the room carrying a wooden basin of cold water and a clean towel. She nearly dropped the entire thing when she saw the young woman thrashing on the bed her face flushed, quilt clutched desperately to her chest.
"Shh, don't move, child. You're burning up." The old woman set the basin down quickly and crossed to the bed, her voice gentle and raspy. She turned toward the hallway and called out sharply: "Dear! Dear, come quickly, she has woken up!"
Li An Ruo tracked her every movement. But she soon noticed the complete absence of malice from her and she eased up a bit.
She stayed exactly where she was, flat against the mattress, with the quilt gripped tightly to her chest.
The old woman approached slowly, adjusted the quilt more securely around her without once making her feel exposed, and pressed the cool damp cloth to her forehead.
Li An Ruo couldn't help but notice the warmth and kindness radiating from the old woman, that made it feel as though she had cared for someone like this before.
"Do not move around, dear. You will open your wounds," the old woman scolded softly. "The doctor only just patched you up last night."
Her mouth felt like dry sand but she forced the words out anyway. "Where am I?"
"You're in our house, dear." The old woman helped ease her back against the pillow. "My husband found you collapsed in our storage shack by the riverbed and brought you inside." She paused for a brief second and said with a teasing tone.
"I will say you have quite the kick. Our door is completely broken."
A flash of memory cut through her mind and she remembered last nights events.
The door to the shack. The crack of a frame giving way under her shove. She was bleeding, she couldn't breathe, she needed to get inside—
The memory dissolved as quickly as it had come and a deep, embarrassed flush burned across her cheeks all the same.
Li An Ruo's face was flushed with embarrassment, and she wished she could dissolve into the bed.
Mrs. Li noticed her flushed face and rushed up to her. "Oh dear, are you burning up again?" she said, placing her hand on her forehead.
"No, no," she said, shaking her head vigorously, pulling the blanket to cover her face.
Mrs. Li smiled and teased, but soon stopped and proceeded to soak the towel and place it back on her head.
Li An Ruo heard footsteps in the doorway. An old man entered and kept a respectful distance, his eyes fixated on the young woman lying on the bed. Their gazes met, and she could sense the same undemanding warmth she felt from Mrs. Li.
"You've been drifting in and out for three days," Mrs. Li said softly, blowing on a steaming porcelain bowl of bitter medicinal broth before bringing a spoonful to her cracked lips. "My husband found you half-dead behind the flour sacks in our storehouse, and the fever hasn't let you go since. Drink this. It will help clear the silt from your chest."
She managed to swallow a few drops of the bitter medicine, her face twisting from the sourness.
Mr. Li, who had not said a single word all this time, spoke.
"You looked like you had been attacked when we found you, and since we did not know who your attackers were, we decided not to take you to a hospital nor call the police. So we called our local doctor, and she said that you had been shot in the leg, but you had removed the bullet that we found in the shack," he said quietly.
His gaze didn't waver as he continued. "Knowing that, and the way you knocked down our door — we knew you had a complicated background. But we decided to take care of you anyway."
The door again. Li An Ruo's face reddened ten times more. Just kill me, she thought, snuggling further into the blanket, covering half her face as the old couple teased her. She wished the ground could swallow her up now.
But soon, tears pricked the corners of her eyes before she could stop them. She stared at the old couple who had pulled a bleeding stranger out of the dark, sheltered her, and asked for nothing, and felt something in her chest crack open in a way that had nothing to do with her wounds.
She squeezed her eyes shut, grasping for something. A name. A face. Anything.
But there was nothing. Only a vast, blank void where her memories should have been.
"Dear, do you remember your name?" Mrs. Li asked gently after a long silence.
"I don't know," she whispered. A tear escaped and rolled down her cheek. "I don't remember anything. I don't know who I am."
"It's alright, dear. Don't force it." Mrs. Li gently took her trembling hand and squeezed it. "What happened must have locked your memories away. Until they come back, you can stay right here with us."
Old Mr. Li smiled then, the lines on his face deepening. "Since we found you by the river, and our family name is Li... how about we call you Lu'er? Little Lu'er."
She turned the syllables over quietly in her mind. They didn't feel like hers — she could sense that somewhere deep in her bones. But in this small white room that smelled of medicinal broth and old wood, they were the only thing in the world that felt solid.
She looked at their kind faces. She forced a small smile and nodded.
"Okay," she said. "My name is Lu'er."
****
Three weeks passed in the blink of an eye.
As her wounds gradually healed under the fresh bandages, she remained bedridden for the first week, her body refusing to cooperate beyond short trips to the washroom. Most of the bandages came off at the end of it, leaving only the tight wrapping on her thigh where the bullet wound still needed time.
She graduated from bed to crutches by the second week. From crutches to slow, limping circuits around the upstairs hallway by the third, although she still needed her crutches so as not to apply pressure on her foot.
From her window she could hear the market below, the shouts of vendors, and the smell of fresh bread drifting up through the floorboards every morning like a hand reaching up to pull her out of sleep.
She still didn't know who she was. The memory from her dream three weeks ago still haunted her as she kept trying to figure out what she was doing there.
But for the past few weeks living with the old couple, she had decided to stop thinking too much about it and had set the thought aside, deciding to wait for her memories to come back naturally. She enjoyed the quiet life and was starting to learn the shape of who she wasn't.
She even came to learn about the old couple's daughter, who went missing almost 40 years ago, when she came across a dusty old photo, of a young girl who resembled her, in the room while she was moving about. She asked, and Mr. Li did not want to talk much about it and casually brushed it off, so she did not ask any further.
****
Today she was stretching her legs down the narrow hallway, one slow step at a time, when she turned the corner near the storeroom and found Mr. Li straining under the weight of a heavy sack of flour, his back bent at a right angle and his face red with beads of sweat forming on his brow. She pitied the old man and decided to help.
"Here, Mr. Li, let me help you," she offered, already moving forward before he could reject her.
Seeing that he could not do anything to stop her, the old man sighed.
"Be careful. Your wound is almost healed. Don't go opening it back up," he scolded.
"I know, Mr. Li."
She took the sack from him in one smooth motion, shifted her weight to her right leg, and yanked it up to her right shoulder. She dropped one of her crutches in the process and started limping toward the kitchen using the other crutch to support herself.
Children nowadays are stubborn
He picked up the crutch she dropped and trailed behind her, shaking his head quietly.
Mrs. Li was in the kitchen waiting for the flour. She was surprised to see Lu'er carrying the sack and not her husband, whom she had sent.
"Dear, you should not be doing such heavy—here, let me." She reached out to take the sack, grabbing the corner.
"Ah!"
She cried out as her old knees buckled the moment she felt the weight, and she let go with a small squawk, clutching the counter instead. The heavy bag landed with a thud.
She stared at Lu'er, then at the sack, then back at Lu'er again.
"How," she said slowly, "can someone with such a fragile little body be this strong?"
She reached out and squeezed Lu'er's arm between two fingers, as if confirming it was real.
Lu'er opened her mouth, but she didn't get a chance to answer.
Mrs. Li had already turned on her husband, who was entering the kitchen.
"And you," she said, picking up a wooden rolling pin and pointing it at her husband. "How could you let her carry such heavy luggage by herself? Look at her! She is still recovering! What were you thinking!"
Mr. Li took a careful, measured step backward, then another, before laughing awkwardly and scratching the back of his bald head.
Lu'er pressed her lips together. She tried very hard not to laugh at the old couple's arguing, but she failed.
Pfft!
The laughter came out of her before she could catch it, shaking her ribs and the moment it did, a sudden wave of dizziness crashed over her like a wall.
She grabbed for the counter, but her hand clipped a stack of metal bowls on the way and sent them clattering to the floor.
The old couple stopped arguing when they heard the clattering of utensils beside them.
"Oh my god, Lu'er!" Mrs. Li rushed to her side instantly and placed her hand on her arm. "Are you alright? Come, sit down—"
"I'm fine." She straightened carefully, breathing through it. "Just a little dizzy. I just need to sleep it off." She managed a small, reassuring smile. "I can walk myself, Mrs. Li."
The old woman looked unconvinced. Turning to her husband, she hissed, "This is all your fault for letting her carry such a heavy load! I knew it was too early for you to be doing chores!"
"It's alright, Mrs. Li. I wanted to help Mr. Li. He refused me, but I insisted," Lu'er interjected but Mrs. Li was still not convinced.
She shot one last glare at her husband, as if saying this is your fault, before turning her attention back to Lu'er.
"Is your wound alright? Has it opened up? How are you feeling? Do you want me to take you to your room?" she offered.
But Lu'er dismissed her, saying, "I just felt a little dizzy, is all. All I need is a little sleep and I'll be alright. It's alright, Mrs. Li, I can go by myself."
Old Mr. Li handed over the crutches and helped her up without a word.
The old couple stood together in the kitchen doorway and watched anxiously as Lu'er turned and limped her way slowly down the hallway.
She was nearly at the end of the corridor when the bell above the front entrance rang downstairs, indicating that a customer had arrived.
They instinctively turned their heads toward the sound to welcome the customer. They saw a familiar face appear from the stacks of freshly baked loaves and were about to greet him, but the low, heavy thud from the hallway behind them almost made their hearts stop.
Ding.
The bell above the bakery door rang as Su Yang pushed it open. He came to buy bread before heading home from the academy, just like he always did.
It had become a routine, mostly because the Lis made the best sesame cakes in the outer district, and the walk took him past their street anyway.
Today started out like any other day but everything changed when he entered the bakery.
*
*
*
The moment he stepped inside, his gaze moved toward the counter, but he caught a fleeting glimpse of a young woman through the open doorway leading to the back hall. She was moving carefully on crutches, her dark hair loose around her shoulders.
Who is that?
He shifted his eyes to the Li couple, who had just turned toward him at the sound of the bell. He was just about to greet them when, suddenly, in his peripheral vision, the young woman's crutch slipped and she lost her balance. She fell to the floorboards with a thud.
The old couple froze in absolute shock, but Su Yang was over the counter and sprinting toward her in no time. He knelt beside her in the dim corridor, his palm sliding smoothly beneath the back of her head to cushion her from the wood, before carefully resting her upper body against his knees.
His other hand moved instinctively to straighten her left leg, which had bent at an acute angle, her heel almost touching her waist. The moment his fingers brushed the fabric, he froze.
The white bandage on her thigh was darkening rapidly, being dyed a deep, wet crimson that spread steadily outward from the center of the cloth, soaking through the material.
"She's bleeding," Su Yang said, his voice flat, steady, and entirely controlled. He looked up at the old couple, who stood completely paralyzed, staring at the pool of red in horror. "We need to get her to a hospital. Now."
"No, no! We can't take her to a hospital!" Mrs. Li cried out, her trembling hands slamming over her mouth as she shook her head vigorously.
Su Yang knitted his brow in deep confusion. "Wh—"
"We'll tell you everything later!" Mrs. Li interrupted him, her voice cracking with sheer panic. "Just carry her upstairs to her bed, son! Go, go!" She turned frantically toward her husband. "Dear, get the doctor, quickly!"
Mr. Li was already sprinting out the door and into the market, shaking his head in a silent prayer. He knew his wife would never forgive him if anything happened to the girl.
Left alone in the hallway for a brief second, Su Yang looked down at the girl resting helplessly on his lap. Her face was deathly pale, a thin sheen of cold sweat glistening across her forehead, her long, dark lashes fanned out against her cheeks. Her lips were slightly parted, her breath coming in shallow, weak gasps.
Even shrouded in the gray shadow of death, she was breathtakingly beautiful. As his hands slid beneath her frame to scoop her up, his bare skin came into contact with the flushing warmth of her bare thighs. He swallowed hard. The oversized t-shirt shifted, revealing the delicate, unprotected outline of her chest beneath the thin cotton fabric. A strange feeling spiked deep in his chest — a dark fascination that rooted itself into his mind.
So beautiful...
Clutching her firmly against his chest to hide his wandering eyes, Su Yang proceeded to carry her up the narrow stairs, with Mrs. Li trailing frantically right behind him.
****
Li An Ruo woke up in a pitch black space.
Where am I?
She looked around but there was nothing but darkness as far as the eye could see.
She remembered turning back to walk back to her room when she felt a ringing in her ears before feeling lightheadedness and the world was covered in darkness.
Don't tell me, she gasped. I passed out.
Seconds later, as she was trying to figure out what was happening, the dark space started distorting and changing around her, and in an instant she found herself back at the top of the skyscraper she had seen in her dream, about to jump.
She could see her body moving but she could not control her actions.
The howling, freezing high-altitude wind roared in her ears as her body moved entirely on its own, seamlessly scaling down the sheer glass exterior toward the eighty-eighth floor.
She did not know what was going to happen next but she wanted to wake up from this nightmare.
No! Not this place again! she screamed inside her own skull, her mind thrashing against the repetition of the nightmare. Stop! Please, just stop!
But her body did not stop. This time she did not wake up when the line snapped — instead she continued scaling down the building.
She stopped at the 88th floor of the building against her expectations. she thought she was going to slam into the ground. She watched as the phantom raised a specialized diamond-tipped glass cutter. With precision, she cut a perfect circle into the reinforced, glass. She then braced her weight, cocked her leg, and drove her boots into the weakened pane.
She swung using the line and shattered the glass, making her way inside the luxurious office. The glass shattered inward with a loud BAM, sending broken shards flying across the floor inside the quiet room.
Li An Ruo landed gracefully amidst the debris, executing a flawless rolling break before rising swiftly to her feet.
She looked around the office.
The entire office was unusually expansive, spanning over a hundred square meters in a majestic semi-circle layout. The curved outer wall consisted entirely of floor-to-ceiling windows, which allowed the golden glow of the city to cast long, sharp shadows across the polished marble floor. Through the fresh breach in the glass, thin white translucent curtains whipped violently in the cold night wind.
Sprawled across the vast floor was a thick wool carpet woven with intricate, archaic designs. Several miniature bonsai trees were positioned on side tables and in the deep corners of the room, their silhouettes softened by recessed lighting. Hanging from the high ceiling was a massive crystal chandelier—a rare piece of craftsmanship that refracted the city lights into a dazzling luster, adding an air of magnificence to the space.
High-end, dark leather seating lined the far wall beneath abstract paintings, and the air carried the scent of cedarwood and a sharp, expensive cologne. Her gaze swept past the silver-coated metal bookshelves filled with design volumes that lined the walls, finally locking onto the central area where a massive mahogany desk dominated the room.
At the center of the office was a man seated behind the desk.
Who is this man?
He raised his face to look at her, and she noticed something strange. His face was blank. No matter how hard she pushed her mind to focus, his facial features remained a shifting haze of shadows, obscuring his identity.
Suddenly, a voice echoed in her head.
"So you have finally decided to come, Secretary Zhang. I was wondering when you would make your move." He set his fountain pen down with a quiet click and leaned back in his leather chair, folding his hands. "I have to say, the entrance was a bit much. Even I did not expect something quite that flashy."
Zhang. Secretary Zhang... Is that... me? Is that my name?
But her body gave her no time to process the thought. Driven by an instinct she could not control, her hands reached for her back and whipped out two daggers from her belt, lunging straight for the man across the desk