The man, still flushed with arousal, froze at once. He straightened and looked at her. The tears in her eyes had not yet fully receded—the rims were still red, lending her gaze a frightening intensity. He took two heavy breaths and repeated in disbelief,
"You… hate me?"
Lin Wan replied coldly,
"Yes."
The haze in Chen Jin's eyes dissipated like fog. He narrowed them and asked in a deep, distinct voice,
"Not only do you hate me—you're afraid of me too, right? After that visit to the Wangs, you're treating me like your enemy again. One slap, and I'm beaten back to square one, is that it?"
Lin Wan lowered her eyes and remained silent.
His expression darkened instantly. A cold laugh escaped him.
"Since I can never turn things around in your heart anyway, I might as well stop keeping my promise."
Her breath hitched at those words. She stared at him in disbelief, anger surging in her eyes, along with unmistakable grievance. She wanted to retort, but no words came. Instinctively she tried to bite her lip—only to stop at the sharp stab of pain.
They stood in silence facing each other. Under the cramped ceiling, invisible currents surged, as if anything could happen in the very next second.
After a full minute, Chen Jin finally stepped back to half the pace. When he spoke, his voice was hoarse.
"Don't worry. This time, I'll keep my word."
He reached out to her again—but instead of pulling her close, he carefully drew her clothes back into place. One by one, he fastened the small, thin pearl-shell buttons on her chest.
Lin Wan barely dared to breathe, afraid the rise and fall of her chest would stir his desire again. After he finished buttoning, he gently smoothed the loose strands of hair that had fallen during her struggle, revealing her smooth, pale ear.
Her hair had grown to her shoulders now—unstyled, the ends naturally curled. It made her look soft, pure, with a hint of playful sweetness. The kind of woman—no, girl—any man would want to possess, perhaps even treasure.
Only he knew how stubborn she truly was.
And how impossibly difficult she was to obtain.
His gaze lingered on her face for a brief moment. Then he lowered his eyes and sighed softly.
"Alright. Let's go."
He turned to press the elevator button. After a short, silent wait, he led her out—still taking her hand as he did.
After a couple of steps, Lin Wan hesitated and pointed back toward the elevator, speaking awkwardly,
"The… the camera…"
Chen Jin frowned stiffly.
"I'll have someone take care of it."
—
Once inside the apartment, Chen Jin went straight into the studies. When he returned, there were two of five envelopes in his hands. Seeing Lin Wan still standing by the door, he pointed at the sofa with the papers.
"Come sit. Let's talk."
She obeyed and sat down. He loosened the string around one envelope and pulled out a document, handing it to her.
"Take a look."
Her heart began to pound.
Could this be that mysterious, all-powerful document? The one that had prevented justice for Wang Xiao… the root of all her humiliation?
The weight of the past crashed over her like a tide. Her fingers trembled as she took it. She skimmed the cover first—Accident Investigation Report and Penalty Decision, with a date stamped far in the past.
She opened it.
At first glance, she saw Wang Xiao's father's name.
Line after line of printed text, faded handwriting… and in the bottom right corner, a pale red fingerprint.
Chen Jin waited patiently as she flipped through the pages. When she finally closed the file, he extended his hand and asked quietly,
"Finished? No problems?"
Still reeling, she nodded faintly and handed it back. But the next thing he did made her widen her eyes in shock.
He took out a lighter.
Click.
A small flame sprang up. He brought it close to the two documents held in his left hand.
"Is this… okay?" she cried out.
He lifted his eyes and gave her a casual glance.
"What's not okay about it?"
His hand did not hesitate. Flames quickly devoured a third of the paper.
She wanted to say This is illegal—but she swallowed the words before they could escape. From the beginning until now, which of his actions had ever been lawful, reasonable, or just?
Chen Jin stared at the burning pages without expression, as though he were seeing not paper, but something else entirely. He murmured to himself,
"Only this way… can I cut off my own retreat."
He glanced at her with a bitter smile.
"So I won't regret it."
As the final corner of the paper was licked by fire, he loosened his grip. The fragment drifted down in gray ash.
That glance he'd thrown her just now made her heart inexplicably tighten. She looked at the small pile of pale ashes on the tea table and felt as if all the sin and humiliation were being burned away at that very moment—buried, dried by the wind.
And along with them…
Their relationship.
Chen Jin brushed his hands off lightly and said indifferently,
"Old cases from years ago. The people involved are already half-buried in the ground. Other than me, no one would bother with this anymore."
They fell silent. Both sets of eyes rested on the ashes, as if a ritual were quietly underway.
After a while, Chen Jin spoke.
"Lin Wan."
It had been a long time since he'd called her by her full name. The unfamiliarity of it stirred a strange sensation within her.
She looked up.
He enunciated each word with clarity:
"You're free."
She had once yearned for freedom with a desperate intensity—so intense that time itself had seemed unbearably slow. Yet now, when the man who had imprisoned her finally spoke those two words aloud, she felt no surge of joy.
Only release.
And a faint, creeping exhaustion.
That strange feeling began to spread.
Chen Jin pushed the other envelope toward her.
"Take this."
She asked in confusion,
"What is it?"
He didn't answer. She opened it herself. The instant she saw the title, she froze.
A Property Transfer Agreement.
The nameless feeling in her chest instantly transformed into anger.
"What does this mean?"
"Don't overthink it, Wanwan," he said quietly. "I just want you to live a better life." His eyes were full of sincerity.
"I don't need it." She shoved the document back angrily.
His gaze lingered briefly on it before he said,
"Alright. If you ever need it in the future—"
"There is no future." She stood up impatiently.
"I'll take my things and leave right now."
Most of her belongings were already packed. She only went to the bathroom to stuff a few bottles and jars into the bag. Standing in the bedroom, she looked around once more to see if she'd left anything behind. She didn't want even a single trace of herself to remain.
The clothes Chen Jin had bought for her—she'd only worn two or three sets. After a moment's hesitation, she stuffed those into the bag as well.
When she came out dragging the suitcase, Chen Jin was still sitting on the sofa in his former posture, staring blankly into space.
She set the bag down and went to the balcony.
Ni Ni lay sprawled in her little cage, belly up, fast asleep—utterly carefree, like a child with no worries in the world. It made her feel both envious and unwilling to disturb the peace. She crouched down and lifted the little dog out. Once awake, the tiny creature stuck out its pink tongue and licked her fingers affectionately.
When she returned to the living room with Ni Ni in her arms, Chen Jin was already standing by the door—holding her bag.
"I'll take you," he said.
"No need. I'll get a taxi." She refused at once and stepped forward to take her bag back.
Chen Jin blocked her hand, his attitude unyielding.
"Let's go. One last time."
With that, he carried the bag out himself. Lin Wan froze for a moment, sighed helplessly, and followed with the dog in her arms. As she closed the door behind them, she couldn't help glancing back one final time.
—
From the elevator ride down to getting into the car, not a single word was exchanged between them. The only sound in the cabin was Ni Ni's occasional soft whimper.
He opened the car door for her. After a brief inner struggle, she still chose the passenger seat.
Memories surged like water, unrestrained. She thought of the time Ni Ni had fallen ill—it felt strangely similar to now. She also thought of that snowy night when they'd come out together, of the inexplicable excitement that had surrounded him then.
She let out a soft sigh.
This farewell remembrance had come… far too early.
Then she remembered something she had overlooked all afternoon and said quietly,
"Thank you… for finding doctors to treat my father."
Chen Jin kept his eyes on the road and answered calmly,
"No need. It was nothing."
Her gaze drifted to the hand gripping the steering wheel—long, well-proportioned fingers, distinct knuckles. Just a pair of hands slightly more handsome than most men's…
Yet also utterly different.
Because these were hands that could turn clouds and rain.
Hands that could, with ease, change the fate of others.