46. Fear

“Ah! She can’t swim!”

The other two teammates heard the sound of someone falling into the water and quickly leaned over the edge of the yacht to look. Chen Shu Yin struggled in the sea, her arms flailing as she splashed water everywhere. Her head bobbed up and down, her mouth opening as if to call for help, but she was soon submerged again.

Wei Qi watched her desperate struggle with cold indifference, pretending to reach out a hand in a half-hearted attempt to help.

The teams had all started from the same point, with the finish line only a few hundred meters away in shallow waters.

Except for Pei Yu’s surfing team and Wei Qi’s yacht team, which were still lingering at the same level, the other two teams had already reached the finish line and were on their way back.

Before anyone else could notice the commotion, Wei Qi restarted the engine, churning up waves that made the water even rougher. He appeared to be maneuvering closer to Chen Shu Yin, but in reality, he was circling around her, deliberately watching her struggle helplessly on camera, waiting for her to drown in disgrace.

Seagulls soared high, piercing through the clouds.

Pei Yu drifted along the waves leisurely, facing away from the commotion. He occasionally glanced back to check on the situation. As another large wave crashed over him, he rose again—only to see that Chen Shu Yin was no longer on the yacht.

“Pei-ge, we’re in control now. You don’t have to wait anymore.”

His teammates could all see that Pei Yu was effortlessly handling the waves, yet he had been moving at a slow pace, frequently looking back as if waiting for someone.

“You guys go ahead. I’ll go back and check on Ka.” Pei Yu said indifferently. With a swift turn of his surfboard, he changed direction mid-air and charged back toward the scene.

“Brother Wei Qi, shouldn’t we call for help from the shore? If we wait any longer, someone’s going to die!” The last remaining girl on the team called out anxiously. “She’s already exhausted!”

“Aren’t we trying to pull her up?” Wei Qi snapped impatiently, looking up at the drone overhead. The individual camera on the yacht had already been shut off.

“Pei Yu? Is that Pei Yu?”

Wei Qi looked up just in time to see Pei Yu lowering his body and speeding toward them.

With a sharp twist of the steering wheel, Wei Qi veered the yacht to block Pei Yu’s view.

Chen Shu Yin’s frantic thrashing weakened, her body sinking lower into the water.

Pei Yu, however, seemed to have activated some sort of turbo boost. Like an eagle locking onto its prey, he spotted the danger zone and charged in. His surfboard struck with a loud “boom,” intentionally hitting the yacht’s bow and causing it to tilt to the side.

Immediately after, Pei Yu dove into the water, swimming toward Chen Shu Yin. He grabbed her arm and pulled her into his embrace.

As they neared the shore, staff members and lifeguards, who had noticed the unusual formation of the teams, finally reacted and rushed toward Pei Yu’s location.

Pei Yu lifted the unconscious, waterlogged Chen Shu Yin into his arms, his expression dark and frigid. Avoiding others’ attempts to touch or check on her, he laid her down on a blanket.

A crowd quickly gathered. Pei Yu knelt on one knee, pressing firmly on her chest while instructing, “Get some cloths to block the cameras.”

Several voices responded, and soon, layers of black cloth formed a semi-enclosed space.

Pei Yu continued to apply forceful compressions below her chest. His wet black hair clung to his forehead, and his sharp eyes, damp with seawater, glinted fiercely under his furrowed brows.

The unexpected incident left everyone holding their breath in fear.

Pei Yu had always appeared composed, distant, and methodical in public. But now, as he performed rapid CPR, the veins on the back of his hands bulged grotesquely. His usually sharp and cold gaze was veiled by wet lashes, making him look like a child who had lost the most important thing in the world—desperate, deaf to everything around him.

His fear was so raw that it spread to those nearby.

Chen Shu Yin’s face was pale, her lips turning purple. Her thick lashes trembled slightly, but her eyes remained tightly shut. Aside from a few weak coughs expelling water, she showed no sign of waking up.

Pei Yu swallowed hard, pried her lips open, and leaned down to breathe air into her mouth.

Rescue breaths, compressions—he repeated the cycle.

Minutes passed before Chen Shu Yin’s brows finally knitted together, and she coughed weakly, taking her first breath.

Pei Yu gently lifted her head to rest in the crook of his arm and whispered something softly. He brushed the damp strands of hair away from her face, his previously icy eyes softening with warmth.

Chen Shu Yin slowly opened her eyes, her vision blurred like a mosaic before gradually clearing. The first thing she saw was Pei Yu’s face, just inches away. After everything—each moment of near-death terror—seeing him felt surreal.

She instinctively reached out to touch his face, but before she could, voices around them broke the spell.

“She’s awake! She’s okay!”

The dreamlike haze shattered, memories flooding back in. Chen Shu Yin hesitated, retracting her hand midway, but Pei Yu caught it and gently patted it, soothing her like a child.

“It’s okay. It’s over now.”

She saw the way he smiled—like he was about to cry. Those words weren’t for her; they were for himself.

The director’s voice rang out through a megaphone. “All filming is suspended. Everyone, gather in the conference room at the city hotel.”

Pei Yu wrapped a towel around her and carried her to the car.

Her entire body felt waterlogged, like a bloated balloon. She let her heavy arms hang limply as Pei Yu maneuvered her, her eyelids fluttering shut. She soon drifted back into unconsciousness.

When she woke up again, Pei Yu was no longer beside her. Instead, Liu Yiran sat at her bedside, sighing.

“Yiran.”

“You’re awake.” Liu Yiran helped her sit up. “Pei Yu went to the hotel. He said he’d come back after dealing with things.”

She glanced at Chen Shu Yin’s dazed expression and teasingly lifted her chin.

“With your barely passable swimming skills, you should’ve been fine in shallow water. How did you end up drowning?”

Chen Shu Yin also found it strange. She had instinctively tried to swim downward, but something had hooked onto her foot. A sharp pain followed, and her legs went limp, leaving her struggling with only her arms until exhaustion took over.

She pulled the blanket aside, extending her leg. Searching for the source of pain, she turned her ankle to reveal a swollen red welt.

“Oh my god, what happened to your leg?!” Liu Yiran gasped.

Chen Shu Yin shook her head. “Can we get a doctor to check it? I think something bit me when I fell in. It felt like a hook.”

Liu Yiran immediately went to call a dermatologist.

The doctor examined the wound carefully. “A jellyfish sting. Half a year ago, there was a jellyfish infestation in Bincheng, but they’ve mostly been cleared. The authorities conduct regular inspections, so there shouldn’t be any left… Where exactly were you stung? I need to report this.”

After she provided the location, the doctor clicked his tongue. “That area has been cordoned off for recreational use. Could someone have deliberately placed a jellyfish there?”

“I’ll prescribe some ointment. Please fill out this form.”

“Alright.”

Meanwhile, on the hotel rooftop, the muffled sounds of fists colliding echoed through the air…