Zihan returned to the hotel room quietly.
The door closed with a soft click.
Xu Feng was still sprawled across the bed, one arm flung out, breathing evenly—completely unaware that the night had nearly rewritten everything.
Zihan didn't wake him.
He moved straight to the bathroom.
Cold water splashed against his face, but it did nothing to calm the heat lingering beneath his skin. He straightened slowly and looked up.
The mirror reflected a version of him that felt… unfamiliar.
His eyes were sharper, darker—like something inside him had been stirred awake.
He lifted a hand and touched his forehead.
Right there.
The place where her lips had rested.
His fingers lingered longer than necessary.
The memory hit him again—soft, fleeting, devastatingly real.
Her warmth.
Her whisper.
That quiet certainty in her voice.
In this life.
His chest began to pound hard, fast, almost painful.
Not fear.
Not excitement.
Something deeper—an emotion without a name, pressing against his ribs as if demanding space.
"What is this…?" he murmured under his breath.
No answer came.
Only the echo of her presence, stubborn and vivid.
He exhaled, steadied himself, and turned away from the mirror.
After changing into clean clothes, he slipped his phone into his pocket and left the room—steps measured, expression composed.
But inside, the calm was gone.
Something had already begun.
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Meilin reached her room just as the first light of morning slipped through the curtains.
The door closed behind her, and only then did she let out a slow breath.
She picked up her phone.
Meilin → Commander Yan:
Check the surroundings immediately. If you spot anyone suspicious, detain them.
Last night, I was attacked. Keep this discreet.
Find out which gang it was. I want a full profile.
The reply came almost instantly.
Commander Yan:
Yes, Miss Meilin.
She set the phone aside, fingers tightening slightly.
Her mind replayed the fragments she couldn't shake off—
the low voices in the dark,
the cold certainty in that order:
"Bring him alive."
Not them.
Him.
Her gaze sharpened.
They had already moved to attack him. That meant they weren't testing anymore—they were hunting.
I was careless, she admitted silently.
If I hadn't been there…
No. Thinking further was useless.
What mattered was this: Xie Zihan was now a target.
And targets didn't stay unguarded.
"I'll arrange it," she murmured to herself. "No matter what."
She changed quickly into her hiking clothes—simple, functional, nothing flashy. Her hair was tied back neatly, her expression composed, as if nothing had happened at all.
By the time she stepped downstairs, Tang Yuze was already there.
He was dressed for hiking too—light jacket, boots, cap pulled low, sunglasses hooked at his collar. Seeing her, he raised a brow with an easy smile.
"Ready?"
Meilin nodded. "Mm."
As they walked out, she added casually, "I invited a few friends to join us. They're here for a field trip."
Tang Yuze didn't think much of it. "That's fine. More people, more fun."
Before stepping out, he pulled on his cap, mask, and sunglasses—muscle memory from years of dealing with unwanted attention.
The black SUV rolled to a stop.
Meilin glanced back once at the house, then forward again—eyes steady, resolve unshaken.
As the car moved onto the mountain road, sunlight filtering through the trees, her thoughts were already several steps ahead.
If someone dares to touch him again…
Her lips curved faintly—not in a smile, but in promise.
They won't get a second chance.