Bai Xueping’s words reverberated in the cool air, sharp and grating.

Su Weichu’s lips curled into a faint, forbidding smile.

She lifted her gaze and looked out the car’s glassy window, her eyes meeting Lin Huaiyu’s. He stood motionless, his deep, incomprehensible gaze focused on her.

His gaze unsettled her in a way she couldn’t quite explain as if he was watching something valuable slip through his fingers, only to realize he didn’t want to lose it or let go.

“You gave up everything… for a family like that?”

Su Weichu’s fingers tightened slightly on her lap, but her expression remained composed, apathetic.

“This is none of your business.” She withdrew her gaze, her voice frosty and disconnected. “I’ll return your money, once I’ve arrived at the Su family house.”

Across from her, Fu Wenbo chuckled in a tone, smooth and effortless.

“Why are you being so distant with me now, Chu Chu? We’re going to become one family soon enough.” His lips molded into a knowing smirk.

Su Weichu let out a short, mirthless laugh.

“Did I ever say I was going to marry you?”

Fu Wenbo wasn’t fazed. If anything, his smile deepened, eyes flashing with a hidden secret.

“Not a worry. You will, sooner or later.”

Something was unsettling beneath his tone and composed attitude, something that made a faint uneasy creep into Su Weichu’s heart. What could he possibly be hiding?

Just when she was about to question him, he leaned back lazily and spoke again, his voice casual but laced with unmistakable intent.

“On another note, someone has already leaked the story online— a false accusation of you stealing the pendant. Do you need me to handle the issue?”

Su Weichu’s fingers clenched slightly.

The storm had only just begun.

As soon as Fu Wenbo’s words fell, Su Weichu pulled out her phone in curiosity. Sure enough, the top trending searches were:

#Heiress Caught Stealing Ten Million, Thrown Out of the House #Wealthy Wife’s Many Lovers

The attached images were a carefully curated spectacle—one capturing her “desolate” figure dragging a suitcase as she left, another freezing the tense standoff between Lin Huaiyu and Fu Wenbo in front of the police station.

A chill flickered in Su Weichu’s moonlit eyes. Someone was certainly invested in making a spectacle of the Lin family’s affairs.

“No need,” she said calmly, her fingers already dialing a number.

“Look into the recent auctions and underground casinos. See if there’s any trace of The Heart of the Ocean—and get me a media account while you’re at it.”

Fu Wenbo chuckled as he started up the car. “You’re not one to show mercy, are you?”

They had barely driven a few blocks when the deafening screech of brakes sliced through the night air.

Su Weichu instinctively braced herself against the seat, just barely avoiding slamming forward.

“What the hell!—do you have a death wish?!” Fu Wenbo cursed, his grip tightening on the wheel.

Su Weichu’s gaze lifted, only to meet the sight of a black car parked sideways across the road, deliberately blocking their path.

All of a sudden, the driver’s side door swung open with force before she could process it.

Lin Huaiyu stepped out, his expression somber as a furious sky.

Without hesitation, he strode forward and yanked open her car door.

Without a word, Lin Huaiyu grabbed her and dragged her out of the car.

Su Weichu struggled, twisting her wrist away from his iron grip. “Let go of me!”

She was abruptly lifted into his arms before she could break free from his unbreakable grip.

“Lin Huaiyu! Put me down this instant!” she shouted, her fists pouring down on his broad back.

His brows were tightly furrowed, his unilluminated eyes clouded with something she couldn’t decipher—pain? or perhaps, suppressed rage? Yet, he didn’t utter a single word. He simply held her tighter and in one swift motion, threw her into his car.

The entire sequence happened in the blink of an eye.

By the time Fu Wenbo reacted, the vehicle had already sped off, its taillights fading into the night.

“Lin Huaiyu, what the hell do you think you’re doing?!” Su Weichu’s voice was sharp, her frustration mounting. “Stop the car. I want to get out!”

She grabbed onto his seat, shaking it in agitation. Still, he remained silent with his jaw clenched and his grip secured onto the wheel.

Soon enough, in the rearview mirror, the glare of headlights loomed closer and closer—Fu Wenbo had caught up.

Lin Huaiyu’s foot pressed harder on the gas.

The chase was reckless, a battle of speed and determination.

Engines roared furiously. Tires screeched against asphalt. The night air crackled with tension.

All at once—

“SCREEECHH!”

A deafening screech.

A sudden jolt.

The world tilted as the car veered sharply, hurtling toward the roadside barrier.

Su Weichu’s breath caught in her throat.

Her fingers dug into the seat, her entire body tensing in alarm.

“Lin Huaiyu!!” she screamed in desperation.

In the next heartbeat, a tall, imposing figure lunged toward her—shielding her just as the impact came crashing down.

“BAMM!!”

The car slammed into the greenery with a violent collision, the force rattling through every inch of metal and glass.

“Lin Huaiyu?!!”

The weight on top of her was heavy, suffocating. Su Weichu gasped, her voice trembling as she called out his name.

No response.

Warm liquid trickled down, soaking through the fabric, carrying with it the thick, metallic scent of blood. It filled her lungs, sending a sharp pang through her chest.

“Lin Huaiyu! Wake up!”

She struggled below him, trying to push him off, but his arms—his strong, unyielding arms—were locked immovably around her, as if even in unconsciousness, he refused to let go.

Time blurred. Seconds stretched into eternity.

Thereafter—blinding, flashing lights could be seen from afar and the wail of sirens could be heard from afar deafening her eyes.

Rescue workers pried the wreckage apart, pulling them from the mangled embrace of twisted steel.

Fu Wenbo reached for her first, his arms steadying her trembling frame. “It’s okay, you’re safe now,” he murmured, voice low and reassuring.

Except, Su Weichu wasn’t listening.

Her dazed, unblinking eyes followed the stretcher carrying Lin Huaiyu, the image searing into her mind—the blood streaking down his pale face, the stillness of his body.

Something inside her twisted, pierced, and unbearable.

The ambulance doors were about to shut.

Without a single thought, she shoved Fu Wenbo aside, wiped her face with the back of her arm, and stepped forward—one foot and the other—until she was climbing in.

“I’m his wife!” she declared aloud, her voice hoarse yet unwavering. “I’m going with him.”

—

Outside the emergency room, Su Weichu paced back and forth, nerves fraying with each passing second.

The doors swung open.

She lunged forward, her heart hammering every second.

“Doctor,” she demanded breathlessly, “how is he?”

“Mr. Lin is out of danger,” the doctor said, his tone calm yet clinical. “He sustained a head injury from the collision, but what’s more concerning is the excessive extraction of stem cells from his body. It has weakened his bodily systems significantly and the emotional distress has worsened his condition. Due to the circumstances, he’s currently in a coma and will need rest—plenty of it.”

Hearing those words, the weight pressing against Su Weichu’s chest finally loosened. She exhaled, barely realizing she had been holding her breath.

Without hesitation, she followed the nurses as they wheeled Lin Huaiyu into the hospital’s private suite. The moment his unconscious form was settled on the bed, she sank into the chair beside him.

As she was steadying herself in comfort, the door burst wide open.

A woman stepped inside.

Su Weichu lifted her gaze, only to meet a pale, frail-looking Qiao Shan.

She was dressed in a hospital gown, the sterile white fabric hanging loosely around her delicate frame. A thin medical catheter protruded from her arm, it was evident that she was undergoing long-term treatment. She looked rather fragile, like a gust of wind could shatter her.

Despite her own condition, her first words were filled with concern for the man lying on the hospital bed.

“Huaiyu…is he alright?” Qiao Shan’s voice was soft, trembling with worry.

Su Weichu’s expression remained frosty and indecipherable. Her gaze swept over Qiao Shan unbothered before she lowered her eyes.

“Miss Qiao, you’re in no condition to be running around,” she said, her voice laced with icy detachment. “Yet here you are, rushing to his bedside. How considerate of you…”

Qiao Shan opened her mouth as if to say something, but before she could, the conversation was interrupted when another nurse rushed in, her face flustered with urgency.

“Miss Qiao!” The nurse’s voice was a mix of panic and reprimand. “You shouldn’t be here! The stem cell transplant trial shouldn’t be interrupted! You need to return immediately!”

—Stem cell transplant?

The words struck Su Weichu like a thunderclap.

Her mind reeled, scrambling to piece together the fragments of information. The doctor’s words earlier echoed in her head—“He has extracted too many stem cells…his body is severely weakened…”

A moment of silence.

So…that was it.

That was why Lin Huaiyu had drained himself to the brink of collapsing.

For her…

For Qiao Shan…

A sharp, invisible hand wrapped around Su Weichu’s heart, squeezing the air out of her lungs.

She clenched her fingers into fists, but no amount of force could suppress the crushing ache that spread through her chest.

“I understand. Let’s head back now.”

Qiao Shan cast a meaningful glance at Su Weichu, a flicker of something unreadable passing through her eyes.

However, Su Weichu caught it.

She saw everything.

As Qiao Shan turned to leave, Su Weichu suddenly rose to her feet.

“Wait.”

Qiao Shan’s steps halted mid-motion. She turned back slowly, her delicate features shadowed by the sterile hospital lights.

“Is there something wrong, Miss Su?” Her voice was soft, fragile—an illusion of innocence wrapped in feigned weakness.

Su Weichu smiled except there was no warmth in it. The glow in her eyes was cold, like moonlight reflecting off a frozen lake.

She met Qiao Shan’s gaze without hesitation, her lips curving with quiet derision.

“You don’t have to pretend with me.”

For the briefest second, Qiao Shan’s smile stiffened.

“I’m afraid I don’t understand what you mean.”

Su Weichu let out a soft laugh, her voice edged with something razor-sharp.

“Lin Huaiyu has been in the hospital for quite some time now. Yet, you chose this exact moment to appear. You deliberately let me hear about your stem cell transplant. You wanted me to realize that he weakened himself for you.”

She tilted her head slightly, watching Qiao Shan like a predator studying its prey.

“Up to this point, he’s still unconscious and you’re already leaving? You don’t even intend to stay by his side, do you? Which makes your purpose here very clear.”

A veil of mockery draped over Su Weichu’s expression.

She took a step forward. Then, another.

“The photos—you sent them to me, didn’t you? Moreover, those ridiculous trending headlines…you were the one who posted them online, no?”

A flicker of shock flashed across Qiao Shan’s face.

By the second, it was gone.

She recovered, her mask slipping effortlessly back into its place.

Still, Su Weichu had seen it.

Now, she was certain.

Exposed without room for denial, Qiao Shan no longer bothered to keep up the act. Instead, she let out a slow, measured smile.

“People always said Lin Huaiyu married a country bumpkin,” she mused, tilting her head. “However, now I see that’s not quite true. A shame, really. No matter how clever you are, Miss Su, your status will never be enough to match his.”

Su Weichu let out a soft, disdainful laugh, her gaze skimming over the woman before her with detached indifference.

“You’re right. I don’t match him.”

Not anymore.

For years, the Lin family had thrived under Lin Huaiyu’s rule, its influence growing like an empire carved from steel and ice. He was feared, and respected.

But—compared to the Su family?

The Lins were no more than nouveau riche.

An empire built overnight was nothing but a house of cards.

At one time, Su Weichu had been naive—foolish enough to believe that love was enough, that Lin Huaiyu saving her had meant something.

Except, now?

Now, she just felt like an idiot once again.

“Since you’ve worked so hard to break up my marriage,” she said calmly, “I’ll leave him to you, to take care of.”

With that, she pivoted, ready to head out.

However so, the moment she stepped past Qiao Shan, a hand shot out, latching onto her wrist.

Su Weichu halted, glancing down at the fingers gripping her like a leech.

When she looked up, Qiao Shan’s expression had changed. The false gentleness was gone, replaced by something sharp, reckless.

“Su Weichu,” she spat, her voice laced with fury, “Lin Huaiyu loves me! Don’t you dare think you can take him away!”

Silence stretched between them.

Su Weichu chuckled.

It was a quiet, breathy laugh, but her gaze was piercing—like a blade pressing against the softest part of Qiao Shan’s throat.

“Relax.” She leaned in just slightly, voice dipped in mockery. “I have no interest in picking up trash I’ve already thrown away.”

Su Weichu suddenly yanked her wrist free from Qiao Shan’s grasp, the motion sharp and decisive. Without a second glance, she turned on her heel, her steps steady and unyielding. She walked away, leaving the confrontation behind her.

As the door swung shut behind her, a pair of dark, almost imperceptibly watchful eyes followed her retreat. Lin Huaiyu lay motionless on the bed, his gaze faint yet piercing, as if the very essence of his presence lingered in the stillness of the room, a silent observer of the storm she had just weathered.