Hei Meilu’s plan was deranged, no doubt—but the truth was, he had never actually kidnapped anyone before.
So, naturally, he turned to the one place where twisted ideas flourished: a dark-web forum full of violent fetishists.
It was deep enough in the underbelly of the internet that no one monitored what happened there. The users and site alike were completely lawless.
The moment Hei Meilu posted his question, someone responded by sending him a ten-minute video. They called it a “tutorial.”
He stared at the thumbnail—a naked woman sobbing into the camera, her body smeared with blood and bruises. He swallowed hard, eyes gleaming, and slipped on his headphones, thrilled to “study.”
So engrossed was he in his learning session, not even the odd sounds echoing through the hallway outside could shake his concentration.
Until— A call suddenly flashed onto the screen.
His breath caught.
He counted silently to three before answering.
A soft, sweet female voice drifted through the phone, making his ears go numb with pleasure.
“Mr. Hei, your delivery has arrived.”
And then the line went dead.
Was she playing hard to get? Or just genuinely shy? Hei Meilu couldn’t tell.
Not that it mattered—he didn’t waste any time thinking about why Ye Qingju’s tone had changed.
He was already dressed and practically sprinting toward the door.
Back in Ye Qingju’s room, Xiao Jiji could only gape at her actions, his voice squeaky with admiration.
【Host, you’re insane—in the best way possible!】
Ye Qingju, however, stayed focused on the surveillance feed.
She watched as Hei Meilu flung his door open in excitement… …only to meet eyes with the blood-smeared killer still holding a massive, dripping blade.
The two locked gazes.
Ye Qingju calmly turned off the screen.
A moment later, Hei Meilu’s high-pitched shriek rang out through the hallway—followed by the deranged laughter she’d already heard once tonight.
She sighed softly in her heart. A small apology, that’s all he gets.
Xiao Jiji was over the moon. 【Poetic justice! A monster devoured by another monster!】
Just then, a new message lit up her phone.
Ye Qingju’s lips curled into a cold smile.
【Your lust will one day become the knife that cuts you down.】
With that, she turned off the screen.
Outside, Qi Weiran ignored the killer’s hoarse, bitter howls as he was subdued.
He had just raised his hand to knock when he heard a thought echo from within.
So, no need to guess—he already knew.
She’s fine. Just tired.
Qi Weiran’s speed had exceeded Ye Qingju’s expectations. What surprised her more, though, was that he didn’t immediately knock or demand she open the door.
Instead, he leaned close to the doorbell mic and said:
“Don’t come out yet.”
His tall, broad frame completely blocked the scene behind him.
Ye Qingju immediately understood—he didn’t want Qi Xinian to see what was out there.
“Hurry! He’s still breathing!”
A voice cried out in shock beside Hei Meilu’s crumpled body.
Even after being slashed three times—each wound deeper than the last—he was still somehow alive.
His lips twitched. One of the responders leaned closer.
He figured this man was probably about to mutter his dying words.
Hei Meilu’s bloodshot eyes bulged. His chest heaved. One trembling hand reached up and grabbed the responder’s collar. His lips quivered.
“Ye… Qing…ju… Ye… Qingju!”
That venomous woman! She did this to me! I’ll kill her! She’s the real murderer!
“.....”
Wait—did he just say Ye Qingju?
Wasn’t that the woman rumored to inherit most of Mr. Qi’s fortune, yet still madly in love with him?
“Mr. Qi,” the responder said cautiously, “this man’s dying wish seems to be to see your wife one last time...”
He hesitated a moment longer. But in the end, human decency won out.
Qi Weiran glanced over, one brow raised.
He had a sharp memory—one look at the blood-soaked face and he recognized the private tutor who’d tried to seduce his nephew and cuckold him in the same breath.
The responder waited expectantly for Qi Weiran’s permission.
After all, everyone knew the man had no real affection for his so-called wife. Letting a dying man see her would be harmless—and good PR.
But Qi Weiran merely cast him a calm, unreadable glance.
His amber eyes were piercing. Crystal clear. And absolutely devoid of warmth.
He didn’t have to say a word.
Cold sweat drenched the responder’s back. He gave a small nod.
“Got it.”
Then he turned back.
He looked at Hei Meilu, still spewing blood and desperately reaching toward the sky, wailing Ye Qingju’s name.
“Don’t worry,” he said kindly. “In your next life, I’m sure your love will be returned.”
Hei Meilu instantly coughed up a final mouthful of blood—and died on the spot, from sheer rage.
A faint, transparent wisp of a soul floated briefly above his body before vanishing.
No one noticed.
At that exact moment, Ye Qingju opened her door.
She gave her thigh a sharp twist to force out tears—no eye drops this time, just pure pain.
So when Qi Weiran stepped inside, what he saw was—
Ye Qingju, lips trembling, eyes brimming with tears, face etched with panic.
“Sir… you finally came… if you’d waited any longer, I… I might never have seen you again…”
【I’m starving. Move. Go check on your nephew.】
Qi Weiran noticed something odd.
Although she looked like she wanted to throw herself into his arms, she actually maintained a perfect amount of distance—if anything, leaning slightly away.
As if she couldn’t wait for him to leave.
He couldn’t believe he’d missed it before—such a clumsy little hole in her performance.
But now wasn’t the time to tease her.
Because he genuinely was worried about Qi Xinian.
“Zhang Wei, get her something to eat.”
He stepped inside without another word.
Zhang Wei blinked. Wasn’t this Assistant Wan’s job? I’m just a bodyguard...
Still, Qi Weiran had spoken. Even Ye Qingju and Wan Sui both noticed.
Wan Sui’s laid-back expression changed instantly. His eyes sharpened.
“I’ll handle it,” he said. “I know Madam’s tastes well.”
And off he went.
Ye Qingju ignored his sudden change in attitude and collapsed onto the sofa, her legs weak.
Now that the adrenaline was gone, fear and exhaustion came crashing in like a tidal wave.
Qi Weiran noticed.
The woman had hidden Qi Xinian in the innermost room—then waited alone behind the door for his arrival?
With what he used to know of her—how desperately she clung to life—this didn’t add up.
His leather shoes sank into the plush carpet with a heavy sound. From under the bed, Qi Xinian flinched.
His face was still hidden under Ye Qingju’s sleep mask, which covered him entirely.
Remembering her warning, he fought down his curiosity.
One hand clutched the mask. The other covered his mouth.
Then— He heard a voice so familiar it made him burst into tears.
Qi Weiran didn’t reach under the bed. He simply called softly:
“Niannian.”
Qi Xinian started bawling.
Scrambling out from under the bed, he launched himself straight into Qi Weiran’s arms.
“Uncle—you’re finally here! If you’d come any later, I… I thought I’d never see you again!”
Qi Weiran blinked. Where have I heard that line before...?
He thought about telling the boy that men don’t cry, but considering what the kid had been through today…
Even Qi Weiran couldn’t bring himself to push him away.
He patted the child’s back gently and whispered calming words.
By the time the sobs died down, Qi Xinian had thoroughly soaked his uncle’s expensive suit.
Flustered, he pulled away.
Qi Weiran noticed something on his face and reached to remove it.
But the boy instantly slapped his hands over the mask.
“Uncle—no! You can’t!”
Qi Weiran blinked. “Why not?”
The little dumpling sniffled, his voice muffled and serious:
“Ye Qingju said… A true warrior never removes his mask.” (t/n: referencing masked heroes like Ultraman, a beloved icon in East Asian pop culture)
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