The body that was retrieved from Qingshui Bay could only serve as proof of Yao Chen’s wrongdoing, but it did not provide any evidence of his crimes. To Yao Chen, this incident had no real impact, merely necessitating a change in the location for disposing of bodies in the future. The police had installed numerous cameras around Qingshui Bay, integrating it into the city’s surveillance network.
Jiang Ye mourned for his friend, burying him and vowing at the grave to bring Yao Chen to justice. He attempted to reach out to that mysterious person by phone, but it was always turned off. He understood that if the person didn’t choose to contact him, he was unlikely to reach them. All he could do was hope for another call that would provide more information and perhaps lead him to substantial evidence. Unfortunately, the phone number lay dormant in his contact list, never ringing again.
Han Yanyan's life alongside Yao Chen was tranquil and secure. She studied diligently at school and continued to do so after hours. Most of her classmates were busy searching for jobs, while a small few, like her, were preparing for their postgraduate exams. They subtly knew that Han Yanyan had a wealthy boyfriend this year, who picked her up and dropped her off from school in various luxurious cars—sometimes a sports car, other times a stretched limousine. On occasion, if he could not come personally, a driver would be sent instead.
Han Yanyan’s style and aura had also undergone a transformation. Once a simple girl, she now radiated elegance, having ascended to a goddess-like persona. The boys remarked on how much the girls had changed approaching graduation—abandoning their simplicity and embracing materialism.
She found it hard to blend in with characters like San Hu, but she thrived in other surroundings. Whenever Yao Chen had formal business gatherings, he invited Han Yanyan as his companion. Initially, he only wanted her to play the role of a beautiful accessory, but he soon discovered that she fit these occasions naturally. In a private room filled with luxury, she remained quietly poised, listening intently, contributing clever remarks that showcased her depth, making her presence appreciated.
She no longer seemed like a student unversed in the world but rather appeared as someone seasoned with years of business acumen. After all, Miss Han had received elite education from a young age, attending meetings with her father at fourteen, and by eighteen, she had experienced various roles within her family company.
Yao Chen was both amazed and impressed. As he was at a critical juncture needing transformation, meeting Han Yanyan felt like divine favor. “Why don’t you come work with me?” he suggested.
Han Yanyan’s heart fluttered slightly, but she took a moment to compose herself, responding, “I’m too tired with my studies now; let’s talk after the exams.”
If this were the first world, she would have eagerly jumped at the chance to be by his side and accomplish the task at hand. However, after experiencing two worlds, Han Yanyan felt refined by them. Her heart was no longer restless, and her emotions were steadied.
Sometimes, she even felt that being with Yao Chen resembled reading a slow-paced serialized novel. The plot had little progress, with the author indulging in mundane daily life. In this routine, she focused on her studies while Yao Chen earnestly worked. She carved out time daily to exercise at the gym, often watching the sparring area, imagining herself knocking down opponents again and again without stepping inside.
In this world, a female student like Han Yanyan was not meant to wield any martial prowess. She could, at most, practice with throwing knives. In Yao Chen's basement, there was a target, and his knives were sharp and well-honed. During his leisure time, he would spend hours perfecting their edges.
The throwing knives had far more impact than most imagined. Han Yanyan would throw them with controlled force, watching them stick precisely in the target without falling away. Yao Chen's knives always landed in the bullseye, not one miss. He taught her personally, and perhaps due to her experience from the dystopian world, she picked it up swiftly. Yao Chen felt that Han Yanyan was like a woman designed just for him. With a little refinement, he could keep discovering her hidden brilliance.
By the end of the year, Han Yanyan faced the nerve-wracking exams. Yao Chen remarked, “Now you can breathe easy.”
Han Yanyan chuckled, “Only temporarily. Failing would mean true relief; otherwise, I still need to prepare for the retakes.”
Cramming and exams had always been a headache for Yao Chen, and seeing him in such a state made Han Yanyan laugh heartily. “However, the results will be announced after New Year's, and there are at least three months left before retakes. I can relax a bit,” she added.
“That sounds good,” Yao Chen agreed.
He took her traveling abroad, exploring mountain peaks and ocean depths, behaving like a real couple. Yet, they didn’t take many photos; Yao Chen generally avoided being photographed, and Han Yanyan had not thought to capture moments together. Their laughter and affection during the journey would only be memories lingering in Yao Chen’s heart.
After returning home post-New Year, January arrived with exam results: Han Yanyan had passed and needed to prepare for the retakes in March. “Back to the grind again,” she sighed.
Yao Chen was thrilled and planned to celebrate with a feast. Han Yanyan placed a hand to her forehead, forcibly stopping him, “We have retakes!”
“Alright, we’ll celebrate after you pass the retake,” Yao Chen replied, still buying her an expensive piece of jewelry as a reward.
Han Yanyan stored that jewelry away in her box and wore it rarely. Noticing her indifference, Yao Chen felt somewhat disheartened. He had always bought her clothes, bags, shoes, and makeup—standard ways to please women, even if it felt cliché. Yet, at that moment, he suddenly realized he had never quite grasped what Han Yanyan truly liked.
Every day upon returning home, he would often find Han Yanyan buried in her studies. Sometimes, he would see her with headphones on, and once he picked them up to listen, only incomprehensible foreign languages filled his ears, sounding like bird chatter.
Dizzy, he went to take a shower, while Han Yanyan turned on her screen, muting her foreign audio software.
Among the deafening noise, most information gathered was useless, yet occasionally, something significant would surface. After half a year of waiting, Jiang Ye had almost forgotten that phone number until it lit up on his phone.
This time, police action successfully dismantled one of Yao Chen's underground gambling rings. A life in the underworld always had its ups and downs. While Yao Chen could handle losses, the police had executed their operation too well, leaving him and his brothers furious.
Common men could quickly turn wild after a few drinks, and these bloodied men were no exception. San Hu had dragged a woman to the sofa, invading her space as she screamed in fear, the noise breaking through Yao Chen’s thoughts as he pondered how the police had learned about his operation.
The woman's cries disturbed his concentration, and upon glancing at the scene, he felt a sudden wave of disgust. That night, Yao Chen returned home in the early morning, with lights on in his house.
The sound of the door closing woke Han Yanyan, who had dozed off on the sofa, her books scattered across the floor. With her retake fast approaching, she had been studying diligently.
Rubbing her eyes, she slipped on her slippers and met him at the door, hair tousled, her soft pajamas seeming very comfortable.
Yao Chen felt starkly aware of the differences between his life before returning home and now. He couldn't quite discern where he belonged or which side he favored.
“Back already?” Han Yanyan let out a soft yawn, her voice laced with fatigue.
She stepped forward to help him out of his clothes, noticing a faint lipstick mark on his suit collar. While Yao Chen saw it clearly, Han Yanyan acted as if oblivious.
The other mark was, he guessed, on his shirt collar, hidden from sight but certainly visible to Han Yanyan. However, she seemed to notice nothing, covering her mouth as she yawned. “I’m exhausted and going to bed. You should rest early too,” she said, turning to leave.
It was unclear if it was the casino incident or the alcohol that sparked his irritation, but Yao Chen suddenly felt a rise in anger. He grabbed Han Yanyan, pulling her back as she stumbled.
“Han Yanyan, are you blind? You can’t see this?” Yao Chen pointed to the spot where the lipstick mark should have been.
Initially caught off-guard, Han Yanyan's expression faded as she replied nonchalantly, “What if I saw it? You’ve always been like this, haven’t you?”
Yao Chen was fed up with her indifferent attitude. “It’s always like this, and you never ask about it?” His anger escalated, “You don’t care at all, do you?”
Looking into his eyes, Han Yanyan replied softly, “If I ask one more question, will that change anything?”
Yao Chen fell silent. Even while being with Han Yanyan, he continued to lead his extravagant lifestyle; scars left by other women occasionally found their way to his skin. Han Yanyan had never inquired further.
He had once found this easy. Now, the irritation grew, and he became intolerant of her apathetic demeanor. He longed to see her laugh heartily, to cry, to be furious. He recalled a time when he had forcibly taken her, only to have her fight back with all her might, expressing her anger and resistance.
But that had all faded. Since she became his, that fire was extinguished.
Han Yanyan shook off his grip and coolly replied, “You’re drunk; just sleep early,” as she turned to go upstairs.
Yao Chen watched her slender figure retreat, a surge of malice rising within him. San Hu acted on such malice, hurting a woman.
Deep down, Yao Chen knew he was no different from San Hu. They shared a bond forged in battle—the smell of blood and danger permeated their camaraderie. With such opposing natures, how could they once have been brothers?
Yao Chen tore open his shirt buttons, chasing up the stairs after her. He caught Han Yanyan in a tight embrace and brought her into the bedroom, tossing her onto the bed.
As he forcefully entered her unprepared body, Han Yanyan screamed in pain. But after that first cry, she fell silent as if her voice had been stolen.
“Why aren’t you crying? Why aren’t you screaming? Go ahead and scream!” Yao Chen gasped, as his touch shifted from affection to nearly abusive force.
Han Yanyan gasped in pain but held back tears.
“What do tears matter?” she uttered in broken sentences. “You only want to hurt me.”
A sigh lingered in her voice, as if she had waited too long for this day.
Yao Chen froze, then frustration surged through him, leaving him feeling shameful.