The tension drained from her body, leaving an ache that resonated deep in her muscles. The tearing inside her, though healed, still throbbed with a lingering redness. The memory of Qiao Qi's brutal possession sent waves of burning pain through her. Niu Shurui knelt on the floor, motionless, her gaze fixed on the carpet.
A faint footstep broke the silence, approaching slowly across the soft fibers. Qiao Qi reached for her, attempting to help her up, but she flinched away as if startled back to reality. The softening of his expression instantly reverted to icy coldness. Niu Shurui pushed herself up, avoiding his eyes, and walked directly towards the stairs.
"Where are you going?" Qiao Qi's voice was sharp, his hand gripping her arm.
"To change," she replied flatly.
Her white robe, once pristine, was now stained crimson from Ye Li's embrace. The bloodstains, darkening with time, made her look as though she'd been bathed in gore. Despite her disheveled appearance, Niu Shurui held herself with an unwavering dignity. The chaotic splashes of red, rather than diminishing her, seemed to intensify her presence. Qiao Qi’s gaze lingered before he slowly released his grip.
Niu Shurui dragged herself up the stairs, returning to the room that had been her prison for so many days. It remained exactly as she had left it, a fact that filled her with a strange, bitter amusement. She opened the wardrobe and pulled out a fresh garment. She had noticed clothes prepared for her the first time she'd opened the wardrobe, but Ye Li had refused to let her wear them. His wishes, not hers, had prevailed.
Quickly dressed, she descended the stairs. Qiao Qi waited at the bottom. He hadn't followed her, unwilling to see the room where she had been confined. He feared he wouldn't be able to resist burning it all to ashes.
They walked in silence, Niu Shurui leading, Qiao Qi trailing behind, matching her pace as if afraid she might suddenly disappear. She noticed the unconscious household staff scattered along the way.
"I only knocked them out," Qiao Qi explained, sensing her gaze.
When she didn't respond, he continued, "I was outside for as many days as you were inside. These people follow the same routine every day, the same routes. Knocking them out wasn't difficult. The difficult part…" He trailed off, the unspoken words hanging heavy in the air.
"I know," Niu Shurui said. The moment she saw Qiao Qi, despite the initial shock of his appearance, she realized the flash of red light she'd seen at the window hadn't been Ye Li. It had puzzled her at the time. Ye Li hadn't seemed unusual, and they hadn't argued. But if it had been Qiao Qi, everything made sense.
"You knew?" he echoed, grabbing her arm. "You knew I was there, why didn't you call for help?"
"Would it have made any difference?" she countered.
Qiao Qi gave a noncommittal laugh. It would have made a difference. He could have killed Ye Li sooner. But he couldn't say that. Niu Shurui seemed distant, no longer speaking to him with the sweet, yielding tone he was used to. She was colder than a stranger. This wouldn't do.
A smile spread across his face. He reached out, caressing her cheek. "Don't be angry, Niu Niu. I was impulsive earlier. I shouldn't have done that. I love you, I've always loved you. Seeing Ye Li treat you that way… I lost control. Forgive me. Please?" His large hand covered half her face, his fingers brushing against the wound near her ear, his expression pained. He frowned slightly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to hurt you. You shouldn't have taken that blow for him."
Without his glasses, his eyes were exposed, dark and deep, their emotions clearly visible. The removal of the glasses felt, to Niu Shurui, like the removal of a mask.
After a moment, she pulled his hand away and turned towards the car. His smile vanished. He watched her through the glass for a moment before following.
The drive was silent. Occasionally, Qiao Qi would start to speak, but seeing Niu Shurui's closed eyes, he would fall quiet again.
He escorted her to her apartment door, just as he always had. As she reached for the handle, he stopped her, pulling her back to face him. His gaze lingered on her lips. The image of Ye Li attempting to kiss her flashed through his mind—the casual, practiced movement suggesting how many times it must have happened. The suppressed rage within him, a smoldering ember, threatened to ignite. His grip tightened, his thumb tracing the outline of her lips.