Chapter 41: The Little Princess Captured by the Evil Dragon

Water trickled onto the dried branches and fallen leaves, its sound unusually crisp in the quiet night.

A man in work overalls hummed a tune as he swayed his head, lost in his own world.

Behind him, faint footsteps cracked twigs underfoot. Without even turning around, he casually spoke,

“Back so soon? That was fast, man.”

The footsteps drew closer, but there was no reply.

He tugged at his waistband, about to fasten his belt, when something heavy sliced through the air with a sharp whoosh—

Bang!

A brutal impact struck the back of his head.

His fingers slackened, his grip on his pants loosening. With all his remaining strength, he turned his head, his pupils dilating in sheer terror.

“You mo—”

Before he could finish his curse, a massive rock came smashing down again, this time straight into his face.

His work-clad body swayed twice in the air before finally collapsing onto the damp, leaf-strewn ground.

Under the faint moonlight, a shadow loomed over him—a face as grim and menacing as a demon from hell.

Pain dulled his senses, and the warmth of his own blood spread across his face, the sharp scent of iron invading his nostrils.

The red liquid seeped past his eyelashes, trickling into his eyes, staining his vision a deep crimson.

He opened his mouth, but no sound escaped.

All he could do was stare in horror as the eerie figure nudged him disdainfully with a foot before reaching into his coat to pull out a gun.

A silencer was swiftly attached. The safety clicked off.

Summoning the last remnants of his consciousness, the man whimpered incoherently, pleading for mercy.

The towering figure remained impassive, slowly raising the gun and aiming it at his chest.

The wounded man writhed in desperation, but his body refused to obey him.

He could only watch as the gun barrel inched downward—

The trigger was pulled.

Bang!

The bullet tore through the air, striking precisely three inches below his navel.

“Old Zhang?”

A voice called out faintly from the distance.

But the man on the ground could no longer respond.

He had passed out completely from the pain, lying there like a slaughtered pig.

Footsteps approached. The shadowed figure shifted slightly, blending seamlessly into the thick tree trunks.

Moments later, another man emerged, cursing under his breath as he called out his fallen comrade’s name.

“The hell are you doing lying on the—”

His words cut off abruptly.

Just two minutes ago, he’d been chatting with Old Zhang.

Now, Zhang lay motionless on the ground, as lifeless as a corpse.

And if his eyes weren’t deceiving him…

That dark pool spreading across the ground was blood.

And that white, gelatinous matter splattered near his head…

The man’s eyes widened in horror. His hand shot toward his coat, reaching for his gun.

But before he could draw it—

Step.

A soft but unmistakable footstep echoed in the silence.

And just like before—

The cycle began again.

—

Half-asleep, curled up on the straw, a delicate beauty stirred.

The comforting warmth beside her was gone, and now, icy drafts seemed to creep in from every direction.

Jiang Yaoyao groggily opened her eyes, rubbing them with her fingers before sitting up sluggishly.

From the cave entrance, a familiar set of footsteps approached.

She lifted her pale, jade-like face toward the sound, but in the dim light and without her phone, she couldn’t make out the figure.

A hint of nervousness crept into her chest.

But in the next moment, a deep, gentle voice rang out—so tender it seeped into her very bones.

“Yaoyao, when did you wake up?”

In just a few moments, the man’s tall figure stepped into the cave, carrying the chill of the night air with him. He knelt on one knee before her, reaching out to gently stroke her head.

Even his usually deep voice carried a rare hint of careful tenderness.

“I didn’t mean to leave.”

“Did you get scared when you woke up and didn’t see me?”

The delicate beauty slowly blinked, then obediently nodded her head, her soft voice carrying a trace of drowsiness.

“A little.”

The alcohol she drank earlier was quite strong. After being exposed to the wind and sleeping for a while, her head had begun to ache faintly.

She reached up to rub her forehead, but before her fingers could make contact, another hand replaced them.

“Does your head hurt?”

The man’s slender fingers applied gentle, rhythmic pressure to her acupoints, easing both her tension and the throbbing in her head. His voice was low, as if afraid to startle her.

“I’ll massage it for you. It’ll feel better soon.”

“Still feeling sleepy? It’s still early before dawn. Once the pain goes away, you can go back to sleep.”

“It’s still early? But it feels like I’ve slept for such a long, long time…”

Her soft voice echoed through the dark cave, carrying a slight upward lilt, as if she were coquettishly complaining.

Pei Heng lowered his gaze, watching his little fairy, and answered in a gentle tone, “It’s very early.”

His Yaoyao was so obedient and delicate, lifting her pretty little face toward him—so fair that it seemed to glow even in the darkness.

She looked just like a little princess captured by an evil dragon and taken to a cave.

So fragile, so helpless.

Sitting there quietly, waiting for him to comfort her.

She depended on him completely, like a delicate camellia blooming at midnight—so frail that it seemed as though it couldn’t survive without his care.

As if without him, she would wither and fade away.

Soon, as her headache faded, the little beauty grasped the man’s long fingers, tugging softly at his sleeve. Even her voice sounded exceptionally sweet and well-behaved.

“Pei Heng, did you get any sleep? Are you tired too?”

The man let out a soft “Mm” and pulled his little fairy into his embrace.

A faint scent of blood seemed to linger at the tip of his nose, but when he tried to catch it again, it had already vanished.

Perhaps it was just his imagination.

Still feeling uneasy, Jiang Yaoyao clutched his shirt and asked softly,

“Pei Heng, are you hurt? Did you run into bad people just now?”

“No.”

His voice was calm and steady.

“I didn’t run into anything. Don’t worry, Yaoyao.”

His tone was low, like a whisper at her ear, carrying an undeniable sense of reassurance.

Jiang Yaoyao didn’t press the matter further and obediently closed her eyes.

Maybe it was just the strange smell of the cave—she must have smelled wrong earlier.

The cave returned to silence once more.

In the thick darkness, his crisp and clean scent surrounded her, making her feel completely safe.

Two soft and steady breaths intertwined.

But the man, who was supposed to have his eyes closed in sleep, slowly opened them. His long, narrow gaze flickered with an eerie glint.

He pressed a gentle kiss to the strands of her hair, his large hand rhythmically patting her slender back, as if soothing a restless child.

His gaze shifted toward the cave entrance, where two handguns rested against his lower back.

In the darkness, the corner of his lips curled into a cold, almost imperceptible smile.

As if he were wondering—

Would the remaining men walk into his trap first, or would his reinforcements arrive sooner?

The anticipation was thrilling, like waiting for the final reveal of a high-stakes gamble.

Pei Heng lazily lifted his eyelids.

His eyes gleamed with amusement and excitement.