He Yan went straight home. The first thing she did was run a full bathtub of scalding hot water and sink herself into it. She had already showered back at the villa, but she still felt unclean. Scrubbing her skin raw with a towel, it seemed she could never wash away the filth. Her toothbrush had scoured every inch of her mouth it could reach, until finally, somewhere must have torn, because the water she spat out was tinged red.

She had come so close—so close to killing him.

To kill him and be shot dead by his men, ending everything right there. Or if luck allowed, maybe she could explain the whole truth to the police. If they managed to uncover the truth behind Fu Shenxing’s identity, she might be cleared. And if not, then let them call her insane. After all, Fu Shenxing and Shen Zhijie looked so alike—who would fault her for being driven mad?

But alas, she had missed her chance by a hair’s breadth.

She stared into the mirror. Her face was as pale as a ghost, her eyes sunken and unnaturally large. The pupils blazed with a manic, hateful light. It was not a good sign. Slowly, she closed her eyes and reminded herself—she could not afford to go mad. Not now. Not yet. She needed to stay calm. She needed clarity.

Resolutely, she flung the toothbrush away and left the bathroom, heading into the bedroom to pack. Liang Yuanze would be back that very day. After more than twenty days apart, there would be no excuse for her to refuse his touch. But she couldn't bear to let him touch a body marked by another man. She had to leave for a few days—wait for the bruises to fade.

The excuse would be easy enough to fabricate. An emergency business trip for the school. A student having an accident out of town. Yuanze trusted her. She could spin any sudden situation, and he would never suspect a thing.

She packed only the essentials—two sets of clothes, her wallet, ID, and a new smartphone identical to her old one, complete with a SIM card from a different province. Buying it had been complicated. She had borrowed a coworker's computer and used their account, even used their name for delivery—no trace of herself was left behind.

Every step, she was cautious—determined not to leave Fu Shenxing even the tiniest lead.

She was ready to go. Standing by the door, she looked back at her home. In just a few hours, Liang Yuanze would walk through that door. If she stayed, she could throw herself into his arms and cry, beg for his help. He would help. He would be her haven, her strongest support. Of that, she was certain.

But he would also be dragged into this nightmare. Into danger.

What is love? Is it selfless protection, or complete trust? Is it bearing every burden alone for his peace, or standing side by side through storms? For the first time, He Yan didn’t know the answer. She stood at the threshold, gripping her small overnight bag, and after a long pause, she bit her lip and stepped out the door.

She left the car at school and took a taxi across the city to a cheap, inconspicuous hotel. Once checked in, she messaged Liang Yuanze to inform him, then called the school to request three days of leave. With those tasks done, she shoved her old phone beneath the pillow and took out the new one.

He Yan was never the kind of woman to sit and wait for death.

Modern smartphones rivaled computers in their capabilities. With the internet, there were endless tools at her disposal. She began to dig into everything about Fu Shenxing—his identity, his background, his companies, and most importantly, any link between him and the supposedly executed Shen Zhijie.

By noon, Liang Yuanze had responded. He had just landed, expressed his longing, and reminded her to take care. She wanted to call him but was afraid she’d lose control hearing his voice. She kept to texts instead, ending the exchange by promising a call later that night.