He had told her with such confidence: don’t go to the police.

Was it a threat, or simply the arrogance of someone with nothing to fear?

Could it be that he wasn’t afraid because of that video? But she wasn’t someone who could be blackmailed.

She was the victim—the one who should feel ashamed was the perpetrator, not her.

She would never allow herself to drown in this filth. Never!

And after all that meticulous planning for revenge, could he truly be so ignorant of her character?

"Miss He? Miss He, are you alright?" the young officer asked, concerned.

She suddenly stood and walked out.

The sunlight outside was dazzling. It was late autumn, and the sun shone with all its remaining warmth—brilliant, defiant.

One step separated shadow and light, yet stepping across felt like entering another world.

Her mind was in chaos. She tried calling Liang Yuanze again, but there was still no answer.

Leaning against the cold metal of her car, she whispered to herself, “He Yan, calm down. Calm down. You must.”

She went to the security office of her building, claiming her car had been broken into, and requested to view the surveillance footage.

In the video, she was seen calmly parking the car, getting out, and walking away unhurriedly.

Her heart thudded wildly. What about the lobby footage? And the elevator?

The guard looked at her in confusion. “Didn’t you say your car got robbed?”

She ignored him. Under her insistence, he pulled up the other surveillance clips.

In those, she appeared normal—walking into the building, entering the elevator, exiting on her floor.

If she weren’t mentally strong, she would’ve thought she had gone insane.

Her body trembled as she sat alone in that room, staring at the blurry footage—until the screen suddenly cut to black.

Her heart skipped. She called the guard back. “What happened? Why did it stop here?”

“Oh, the system went down in the middle of the night. Someone came this morning to fix it,” he replied casually.

In an instant, everything became clear.

They had taken the opportunity during the outage to return her unconscious body.

The double—the one who looked like her—had then vanished.

No doubt, if there were surveillance footage at the restaurant, it would’ve shown the same: nothing out of place.

If this was a trap, then Fu Shenxing had planned it with painstaking care. Every detail accounted for.

He had left no evidence, no flaw.

She couldn’t go to the police. No one would believe her.

They would think she was mad.

She went home and sat numbly on the sofa. As night fell, her phone suddenly rang—shrill and jarring.

The number on the screen was unfamiliar, but she remembered it well. It was Fu Shenxing’s.

Closing her eyes briefly, she then answered.

“Shen Zhijie, I didn’t report you to the police,” she said calmly.

“You’re smart, Miss He,” Fu Shenxing replied.

She subtly pressed the record button on her phone, fighting to stay calm.

“You planned this for a long time, didn’t you?” she asked.

“You drugged me and had someone impersonate me, driving my car home.

Who was she? Where did you find someone who resembled me so much?”

He corrected her gently, “Not quite. She doesn’t really look like you—just similar in build.”

“Your plan was perfect,” she said, her other hand gripping her thigh so tightly she drew blood, trying to stay clear-headed.

“Shen Zhijie, I really want to know—how did you escape from prison?

I went to see Officer Chen. He said you were executed.

How did you survive?”

He chuckled lowly.

“You’re recording this, aren’t you, He Yan? It’s useless. Everything you’re doing—it’s all in vain.

Be obedient. That’s the only way your family stays safe.”

Her breath caught in her throat.

“What do you want from me?” she asked hoarsely.

“To play our game.”

“You’re using my family to threaten me?”

“Yes.” His tone was devoid of emotion. “They are my bargaining chips.

Don’t break the rules again, Miss He. Don’t test my patience.”

It took a long time before she could speak again.

“If I obey you, you won’t harm my family?”

He laughed softly. “Miss He, haven’t you realized? I’m more trustworthy than you.”

She clenched her teeth. “When will this game end?”

“When I’m bored,” he said. Then added, “Your husband tried to call again.”

Sure enough, her phone lit up with another incoming call.

“Pick it up,” he said. “But I don’t think your husband needs to know about our little game. Do you?”

Then, almost casually, he added: “And please remember—my name is Fu Shenxing.”

The call with Liang Yuanze was brief. He had found a break in training to call her again—worried after multiple unanswered attempts.

She barely spoke, afraid she might cry or say too much.

She also feared their call was being monitored.

Still, Liang Yuanze noticed her odd tone. “What’s wrong? You sound off.”

“Just a cold,” she whispered hoarsely—thankful for an excuse that didn’t require further lying.

“You silly girl,” he chuckled. “I’ve only been gone a few days, and look at you.”

Tears spilled freely down her cheeks.

“I miss you, Yuanze,” she murmured.

“I miss you too, Yanyan,” he said warmly. “Alright, I’ve got to go. We’re starting again. Take care.”

The moment the call ended, she stared at her phone.

There was no record of her call with Fu Shenxing. No recording either.

He had tampered with her phone.

As she wondered what to do next, a text arrived:

“Don’t change phones. Keep using this one.”

Her nerves were frayed to the edge.

In the dark, she stumbled into the bathroom to wash her face.

Once her voice returned to normal, she called her parents.

They had just returned to their hotel after a day of sightseeing and were full of excitement.

She said little, only reminding them to stay safe.

The next day, she returned to campus as if nothing had happened.

Around noon, the boy she had helped came to her office.

“Miss He, are you mad at me?” he asked cautiously.

“You didn’t answer my calls yesterday.”

She didn’t reply, just looked at him—trying to guess whether he had been bribed, or merely used.

Misinterpreting her silence, he stammered,

“I waited outside Zizaitian the whole night...

I stepped away for a moment, and when I came back, I saw you driving away.

I called, but I guess you didn’t hear.”

Despite everything, she still wanted to believe in the kindness of others.

She forced a smile. “I didn’t hear you. I’m fine. Thank you.”

Life appeared to return to normal.

But Fu Shenxing was like a beast lurking beneath the water’s surface—striking violently, then vanishing without a trace.

Her parents returned to Nanzhao a few days later, and she joined them for dinner.

During the meal, her mother casually recounted something unsettling.

“Yanyan, you won’t believe what happened during the trip.

That night when you warned us to be careful, we heard someone knocking on the wall next door.

Your father knocked back—and then it stopped.

“The next morning, we found out someone in the next room had been killed.

The word ‘Shen’ was written in blood on the wall.

It was terrifying!

We checked out of that hotel right away.”

He Yan went pale. Her hand shook so badly she nearly dropped her chopsticks.

On the eve of Liang Yuanze’s return, Fu Shenxing called again.

“Miss He,” he said, “come accompany a guest tonight. The car’s waiting outside campus.”

He sounded polite, but gave her no choice.

She sat in her office for a while, quietly fingering the knife she had long prepared.

But in the end, she put it away. She couldn’t risk it. She couldn’t afford to lose.

A black car took her to a villa on a nearby mountain.

Inside, a private party was in full swing—dim lights, deafening music, drunken men, and girls with flawless skin.

It was like stumbling into a den of demons.

Her appearance stood out immediately.

Ignoring the stares, she scanned the room, found Fu Shenxing by the window, and walked toward him.

“Mr. Fu,” she greeted calmly.

He was talking to someone, a drink in hand, two young women hanging off his arms.

Hearing her, he turned, glanced at her briefly, and gestured toward a leather couch.

“Go keep Boss Zhang company.”

She followed his gaze.

A balding, greasy man in his forties stared at her hungrily.

She didn’t resist. She walked over and sat down.

The man immediately pressed against her, grinning.

“You’re not in this line of work, are you?”

“Just started,” she replied.

“Fresh meat, huh? Clean and tender!” He slapped her thigh hard, leaving his hand there.

She didn’t flinch.

His hand slid higher and bolder.

Finally, she could no longer bear it.

Grabbing his hand, she smiled thinly: “Boss Zhang, not here. Someone might see.”

“I like shy ones,” he laughed.

“They’re the best. Real housewives make the most fun!”

Others around them jeered.

“Come on, Boss Zhang, give us a show!”

The man grinned and began to push her down onto the sofa.

She resisted, slipping her hand into her purse.

But before she could grab anything, a large hand clamped down on her wrist.

Ah Jiang had silently appeared behind her.

Expressionless, he asked, “Miss He, what are you reaching for?”

The room fell silent.

Boss Zhang paused, confused.

Half-reclined on the couch, He Yan met Ah Jiang’s gaze steadily.

“Nothing,” she said.

But he didn’t believe her. He yanked her hand from the bag, saw her clenched fist, and barked, “Open it!”

She didn’t answer.

Instead, she turned toward Fu Shenxing.

He leaned against the window, watching her with faint amusement—as if he’d been waiting for this moment.

Slowly, she opened her hand.

A small, silver square lay in her palm.

“A condom,” she said coolly.

“Mr. Fu—surely you don’t forbid even this?”