The digital clock on the trauma room's wall read 12:03 AM,. Tòumíng was propped up against his mountain of pillows, a massive plate balanced on his lap that contained what had once been a forty-ounce steak. Now it was mostly bone and a few stubborn strips of fat that he was attacking with the determined focus of a man who hadn't eaten properly in days. His jaw worked methodically, tearing off another chunk of meat, chewing with the kind of mechanical efficiency that came from years of eating whatever he could get his hands on.
The steak had arrived forty-five minutes ago, delivered by a silent staff member who'd seemed almost offended by Tòumíng's request for something "really fucking big and bloody."
But the steak was perfect—charred on the outside, pink and tender on the inside, dripping with juices that stained the corners of his mouth. He'd already demolished the accompanying mashed potatoes and the side of grilled vegetables, and now he was working on the main event with the single-minded intensity of a man who'd just burned through a hundred thousand calories in the span of a few hours.
The door to the trauma room swung open without warning. Tòumíng looked up, a piece of steak dangling from his lips, and found the Ice Queen standing in the doorway. She'd changed out of her emerald gown into something more casual, if you could call a silk robe and matching slippers casual. The robe was a deep burgundy, the fabric clinging to her curves in ways that seemed almost aggressive, and her pale blonde hair was loose around her shoulders, slightly tousled, as if she'd been getting ready for bed before deciding to check on him.
"Still eating?" she asked, her voice carrying a note of amused approval. She walked into the room, her bare feet silent against the tile, and settled into a chair beside his bed. She crossed her legs, the robe falling open slightly to reveal a long, pale stretch of thigh, and leaned back with the casual grace of someone who was used to being the most beautiful person in any room she entered. "That's the third plate you've gone through tonight."
Tòumíng swallowed his bite and gestured at the steak with his fork. "I'm hungry. Fighting a superhuman killer and falling twenty-five feet works up an appetite."
"Clearly." The Ice Queen's eyes tracked down his body, taking in the hospital gown that was somehow both too big and too small, the patches of visible bandage peeking out from the collar and sleeves, the way he was hunched over his plate like a starving animal protecting its kill. "How are you settling in? Is the room comfortable? Do you need anything else? A different pillow? More blankets? A bigger bed?"
Tòumíng shook his head, his mouth full again. "Mmph mmph."
"I'm going to take that as a 'no.'" She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees, her chin on her hands. "You know, I had a golden suite prepared for you. Top floor. Panoramic views of the city. Your own private balcony, a jacuzzi, a kitchen stocked with whatever you want. It's got your name on it. Literally. I had a plaque made. 'Tòumíng's Suite.' Very official."
Tòumíng paused mid-chew, his brow furrowing. "A plaque?"
"Gold-plated. Very tasteful."
He considered this for a moment, then shook his head again. "I'll take a staff bedroom. Something small. I'm not used to overly rich rooms. They make me feel like I'm going to break something."
The Ice Queen's expression flickered, something between surprise and genuine curiosity. "You'd rather sleep in a staff bedroom than a golden suite with your name on the door?"
"Golden suites make me nervous. Staff bedrooms are practical. I've spent most of my life in rooms smaller than my current closet. I know how to handle small spaces."
She stared at him for a long moment, her pale blue eyes searching his face. Then she laughed, a low, warm sound that seemed to surprise even her. "You're the strangest person I've ever met. And I've met a lot of strange people."
"Thanks?"
"It wasn't a compliment."
"It wasn't an insult either."
They sat in comfortable silence for a while, the only sounds the quiet hum of the medical equipment and the occasional scrape of Tòumíng's fork against the plate. The Ice Queen watched him eat, her expression unreadable, her fingers drumming a slow rhythm against her knee.
Finally, she stood up, smoothing down her robe. "Well, I should probably get going. It's late, and you need your rest." She paused at the door, glancing back at him over her shoulder. "If you change your mind about the suite, just let me know. The plaque will be there waiting for you."
Tòumíng nodded, already reaching for the last piece of steak. "Thanks. I'll keep that in mind."
She was about to step through the door when Cupid's voice exploded in Tòumíng's chest. "YOU IDIOT! THE MOLE! YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO TELL HER ABOUT THE MOLE!"
Tòumíng froze, the steak halfway to his mouth. His eyes went wide. "Oh, shit."
"Oh, shit is right! She's about to walk out the door and you haven't said a single word about Jin Chan knowing everything about you! What the hell are you doing?!"
Tòumíng set the steak down and scrambled to his feet, the hospital gown flapping around his legs. "Wait! Ice Queen! Hold on!"
She turned, one eyebrow raised. "Yes?"
"I need to tell you something. It's important." He hobbled toward her, his bare feet slapping against the tile, the gown's ties coming loose and exposing his backside to the cool air. "Jin Chan knows too much about me. Way too much. He knew about the gem smuggling, he knew about the debt, he knew about you. He knew everything. Which means there's a mole in your organization."
The Ice Queen's expression went from curious to cold in the span of a heartbeat. Her eyes narrowed, her jaw tightening. "A mole."
"Someone feeding him information. Someone who's been reporting back to him this whole time."
She was silent for a long moment, her fingers curling into fists at her sides. When she spoke, her voice was quiet, carrying the kind of dangerous calm that preceded absolute devastation. "Someone has a death wish so hard that they wanna sell info of my darling."
Tòumíng blinked. "Wait, what? No, I—"
But she was already gone, her bare feet carrying her down the hallway with the kind of purposeful stride that made staff members dive out of her way. Tòumíng scrambled after her, his hospital gown flapping, his legs still unsteady from the earlier fight.
"Ice Queen! Hold on! I didn't mean—"
She reached the main lobby and stopped in the center, her voice carrying across the marble expanse like a whip crack. "BLACK HAWK MEMBERS! ALL OF YOU, COME DOWN HERE NOW!"
The response was immediate. Doors opened. Footsteps echoed. Within minutes, nearly two hundred Black Hawk members had assembled in the lobby, their faces a mixture of confusion and apprehension. They stood in loose formation, their eyes darting between each other and the Ice Queen's furious expression.
"What's going on?" someone whispered.
"I don't know. She looks pissed."
"Did someone mess up?"
The Ice Queen raised her hand, and the murmuring died instantly. "You're all fired. Every single one of you. Get out of my building. Now."
A collective gasp rippled through the crowd. A man in a suit pushed forward—one of the Ice Queen's budgeters, his face pale with panic. "Mistress! You can't be serious! We paid three hundred million yuan for the yearly contract! Cutting it off four months in would be a disaster! The financial implications alone—"
The Ice Queen moved faster than anyone could track. Her hand shot out, grabbing the budgeter by the collar and lifting him off the ground with a single, effortless motion. His feet dangled in the air, his eyes wide with terror, his mouth opening and closing like a fish gasping for air.
"Shut the fuck up," she said, her voice cold and absolute. "I want everyone out. Now. No arguments. No exceptions."
She dropped him, and he crumpled to the floor, gasping. The Black Hawk members exchanged uncertain glances, some of them already backing toward the exits, others frozen in place.
Tòumíng finally caught up, his chest heaving, his hospital gown still flapping around his legs. "Ice Queen! Wait! It's okay!"
She turned to him, her expression softening slightly. "What do you mean, it's okay?"
"I mean, you don't need to fire everyone." He placed a hand on her arm, his voice earnest. "It's not that big of a deal. I can deal with myself. The mole is probably a non-live-in Black Hawk staff member, someone who works remotely or only comes in for specific assignments. If you fire everyone, you'll lose good people who had nothing to do with this."
The Ice Queen stared at him, her pale blue eyes searching his face. Then her expression shifted, the cold fury melting into something like admiration. "You're a genius. A complete and utter genius."
"I am?"
"Yes!" She spun toward the budgeter, who was still on his knees, trying to catch his breath. "You heard him! Fire all freelance staff! Anyone who doesn't live in this building, anyone who doesn't have full-time access to my operations—they're gone!"
The budgeter's face went from pale to ashen. "But Mistress, that means the eighty-eight million yuan we spent on them will now go to waste—"
The Ice Queen's expression shifted to something that could only be described as a death stare. It was the kind of look that made hardened criminals reconsider their life choices, that made grown men weep and beg for mercy. The budgeter's mouth snapped shut. He nodded once, a quick, jerky motion, and scrambled to his feet.
"Yes, Mistress. I'll handle it immediately." He scurried toward his office, his footsteps echoing in the sudden silence.
The Ice Queen turned back to Tòumíng, her smile warm and genuine. "Problem solved."
Tòumíng let out a long, shaky breath. "That was... that was a lot."
"I don't tolerate anyone who threatens what's mine." She stepped closer, her hand reaching up to cup his cheek. "And you're mine now. Whether you like it or not."
"I—" Tòumíng started, but she was already walking away, her robe flowing behind her like a burgundy banner.
"Get some rest, darling," she called over her shoulder. "We have a lot to discuss in the morning."
Tòumíng stood in the middle of the lobby, his hospital gown flapping, his bare feet cold against the marble, and watched her disappear around a corner. Then he let out another long breath and trudged back toward the trauma room, his mind spinning with everything that had just happened.
Cupid's voice came through, quiet and amused. "Well. That was certainly something."
"You have no idea."