"Cecilia," a familiar voice rang in her ear, followed by Fu Zhiyé’s anxious, worried face.

She stared blankly at Fu Zhiyé. Suddenly, her tense body relaxed, and her legs buckled beneath her.

Tears streamed down her pale cheeks. Her long hair was tangled and windswept. Gasping, lips trembling, she called his name: "Zhiyé..."

Fu Zhiyé pulled her into his arms at once, hurriedly untying the rope around her wrists. The sight of her swollen, bruised face made his heart ache unbearably.

He spoke gently, soothing her, "Don’t be scared. It’s over now, it’s all right. I’m here."

Cecilia Ye was still shaking all over, her hands and face ice-cold from the wind.

Fu Zhiyé held her tightly. Only with her in his embrace did his heart start beating again—God knew how close to terrified he’d been, watching Cecilia run out from inside.

A dozen men came chasing after them, but the two bodyguards stepped in front to block them. In an instant, the two sides were in a standoff.

The group was armed with iron rods, and even firewood hatchets—meanwhile, the bodyguards pulled short batons from their waists. The third bodyguard handed his baton to Fu Zhiyé.

"President, for you."

He spat, rolling his neck until it cracked.

Fu Zhiyé wrapped Cecilia in his coat, holding her close, as the wind sent the wild grass swaying violently at their sides.

Compared to the two bodyguards, the dozen or so men were clearly just local thugs, but the blades in their hands—long and sharp—made things tricky.

They parted slightly, just enough for Brother Zheng to help the limping Vivian Belle forward.

At the sight of Fu Zhiyé, Vivian Belle’s eyes immediately lit up. She tucked her hair behind her ear, her voice oozing sugar, "Ah Ye, why are you here?"

Brother Zheng twitched at the corner of his eye, shaking off her hand. Hmph, clinging women.

Vivian Belle didn’t care in the slightest—she already had the money in hand.

Fu Zhiyé glared at her coldly, his expression murderous.

Feeling his indifference, seeing Cecilia Ye protected in his arms, Vivian Belle frowned, giving a bitter, self-deprecating laugh.

"Ah Ye, do you like that stray you picked up this much? What’s so good about her?"

"I’ve loved you for so many years—just because of her, you, you actually sent me to that place…"

"How could you treat me like this?"

Fu Zhiyé finally sneered, unable to hold back his disgust: "Heh. Vivian Belle, what makes you think you could ever compare to Cecilia?"

Vivian Belle laughed as if she’d heard the world’s best joke. "Ha! Now you talk so big—did you forget how you treated her before, all for my sake?"

Cecilia Ye stared at Fu Zhiyé. Whatever Vivian Belle said now, she no longer wanted to listen. All she could think about were the odds: so many enemies, just the four of them.

Vivian Belle glanced at Cecilia, then quickly hid her expression, once more putting on her fragile, pitiful act. "Ah Ye, I’m sorry. I know you’re mad at me, but I really miss you."

"We met when we were sixteen—went through horrors together. You promised you’d marry me."

"Vivian Belle, get a grip. Heh, if you hadn’t gone too far—if it wasn’t you who hurt me—I wouldn’t have minded the Fu family looking after you. But you… You’re too greedy, and too vicious."

Fu Zhiyé followed Vivian Belle’s lead, playing along—he just needed to stall for time, waiting for his backup to arrive.

If he were alone, he’d be fearless. But Cecilia was here—and she was pregnant. He couldn’t let anything happen to her or the baby.

At that thought, he looked down at Cecilia. She was curled up in his arms, gazing up at him. He managed a small, reassuring smile.

Brother Zheng had no patience for this drama. His face grew uglier by the second.

"Enough talking! Do what you agreed. Kill the woman!"

Fu Zhiyé’s eyes were instantly icy, his savage glare making Brother Zheng flinch.

Vivian Belle shot him a look over her shoulder. "Hmph, do whatever you want with her—but lay off my Ah Ye."

Brother Zheng wasn’t interested in her posturing. With a wave, he ordered his goons, "Get that woman over here!"

The gang rushed forward, iron rods and blades raised. The third bodyguard shouted, kicking down a blonde thug at the front, and the fight exploded into chaos.

Fu Zhiyé pulled Cecilia behind him, gave her a quick hug, and then let go. "Cecilia, don’t look back, don’t be scared. Walk that way—Charles Chase will be here soon."

Cecilia Ye shook her head—those men were armed with blades, and she clung desperately to his sleeve, refusing to let go.

"No, Zhiyé, no—"

"Go!" The third bodyguard’s hand was slashed by a knife; he cursed through gritted teeth, then kicked down another attacker.

Fu Zhiyé pressed a swift kiss to Cecilia’s trembling lips, then, steeling himself, pried her hand from his coat. Swinging the baton, he struck a thug behind the third guard, sending him tumbling into the wild grass.

He was tall, agile, and trained—he held his own just as well as the guards. Another kick sent a man sprawling. Turning back, he shouted at Cecilia, "Go!"

Cecilia knew she’d only slow them down. She locked eyes with Fu Zhiyé for a long moment, wiped her tears, and finally turned, retracing her steps away from the chaos.

Hurry—her brother would be here soon. Find her brother, and save Zhiyé.

One hand pressed protectively on her belly—she didn’t dare run fast. With her sleeve, she wiped the tears that kept blurring her vision. She was terrified of losing her way.

Be good, baby, we’re going to find uncle, and then we’ll come back to save daddy.

The sounds of fists and feet, of pain-filled groans, rang out behind her. Cecilia dared not listen for Fu Zhiyé’s voice among them.

When she saw Charles Chase’s car turn onto the narrow road, she stumbled to a halt, nearly sobbing aloud.

"Ge, ge ge!" Her voice was thick with tears as she waved, calling desperately for her brother, like she’d finally grasped a lifeline.

Fu Zhiyé’s arm was slashed, too. Several of the gang were already down; the rest, seeing the three fighting like men possessed, began to lose their nerve.

Brother Zheng, infuriated, gave a cowardly underling a hard kick. "Get your ass in there! Or I’ll put a bullet in you myself!"

The thug charged forward, wielding his hatchet.

Vivian Belle clenched her fists so tightly her knuckles turned white. She eyed Cecilia’s direction, then turned to Brother Zheng, her voice venomous: "Don’t let that woman get away! If she does, you’ll get nothing!"

She’d noticed it—when Cecilia emerged from Fu Zhiyé’s embrace, her belly was noticeably rounded. Cecilia had always been slim; there was no way that was just weight gain.

Cecilia Ye was pregnant. Obviously, it was Fu Zhiyé’s child. She’s pregnant—she’s actually pregnant!

She herself could never have a child, not in this lifetime.

Fury turned Vivian Belle’s eyes a bloodshot red.

"Kill her! Kill her for me!"

"There’s two million in my account for you, plus the rest of your fee—every penny is yours!"

She screamed, hysterical.

She’d come to Brother Zheng for a reason—he had hardware. At the mention of two million, his eyes lit up. For Vivian Belle’s father’s dirty deals, the pay was maybe two hundred thousand at most. This was two million.

He reached behind his back and pulled out a pistol—a homemade one. Years back, villagers used to hunt birds with makeshift shotguns, but this was no hunting rifle.

He’d built guns his whole life. Now civilian firearms were banned, but he still kept some hidden away.

He aimed at Cecilia Ye, eyes glinting with bloodlust, and muttered to Vivian Belle, "You’d better not break your word!"

"Bang—"

A single gunshot ripped through the air, and suddenly, everything seemed to freeze.

The wind on the open field howled louder and louder. The sky was a dull blue-gray, wild grasses on either side swaying ceaselessly in the storm.

All sounds of fighting had stopped.

Time itself seemed to slow down, drawing further away like the slow-motion of a movie.