Something was wrong.
Si Jiang slowed his breathing, warning himself to calm down, not to overthink. Master didn’t like it when he overthought.
He should drink some water first. His throat felt dry.
He rolled over to grab the glass on the nightstand, but noticed instead a bottle of cola-colored liquid sitting on top of a book, with no label.
A normal person wouldn’t be interested in unfamiliar drinks.
But Si Jiang wasn’t a normal person anymore.
His first thought was: since it was placed by the bedside, it must have been prepared by Zong Yan.
Prepared for him.
It took him a lot of effort to twist open the cap. He gulped down half the bottle in one go.
“…What is this?”
It tasted like grass.
He grabbed the water glass and drank to wash away the strange bitterness before collapsing back onto the bed.
He closed his eyes.
But for some reason, instead of calming down, his heartbeat grew faster. Restlessness circled his chest, the pounding echoing in his ears like tinnitus.
He opened his eyes. The skin around them was flushed red.
His gaze met the chain above him.
An iron chain.
Polished, gleaming.
Fastened to both ends of the bed.
Si Jiang slowly raised his hands.
The position aligned perfectly.
Ambiguous.
On this warm South American land, his body trembled involuntarily despite burning with heat.
Who was this for?
Not him. He had just arrived.
Then who?
He grabbed the collar around his neck and asked the chain:
“Who is it?”
His hair was disheveled, strands tangling around his fingers. Several broke under the force of his grip, unnoticed by his absent master.
Who had stolen his place?
He climbed off the bed, his eyes cold as he surveyed the small room.
No matter who it was, they would leave traces.
And if he found them—
Suddenly, manic laughter echoed through the room, like someone losing their sanity.
The house was turned upside down, stripped of its usual neatness.
Aside from important documents carefully placed aside, everything else looked like it had been ravaged by a storm.
When Zong Yan opened the door, her expression darkened.
She had finished work early and returned home.
Had her place been robbed?
Impossible.
She didn’t own anything valuable. Unless they wanted her design drafts—but that seemed unlikely.
She wasn’t that self-important.
She picked up two books and set them on the table. She took off her suit jacket and hung it neatly.
There was only one person who could have done this.
The one currently making her hands itch with the urge to discipline him.
She unbuttoned her shirt as she walked toward the man kneeling among the scattered books.
“Si Jiang.”
Her voice revealed neither anger nor calm.
The man turned his head slowly.
The moment he saw her, the anger on his face collapsed into grievance.
“Who is he?”
“…?”
Zong Yan couldn’t follow his train of thought.
“What are you going crazy about now?”
She hated it when her neatly arranged things were disturbed.
Before, when she insisted on going abroad without him, he had caused a similar scene.
The obedient pet had smashed everything in the house.
She had watched him coldly.
Then dragged him into the bathroom.
When he came out, there wasn’t a single patch of unmarred skin left on him.
He had knelt on the floor and cleaned everything himself.
Afterward, he had behaved much better.
Now, she grabbed his collar and dragged him onto the bed.
“Si Jiang. You’ll be on a plane back home later.”
“I don’t want to!”
The grown man over 180 cm tall immediately hugged her leg tightly, shaking his head frantically.
“I don’t want to go back!”
“Then give me a reasonable explanation,” she said calmly. “Why did you turn my room into this?”
She wasn’t really planning to send him away.
But Si Jiang was the type who only responded to firmness.
Give him an inch, and he’d take a mile.
Sometimes she didn’t understand how a once-arrogant young master had become so perceptive.
The moment he sensed her genuine anger, he became cautious and pitiful, like he was about to be abandoned.
Sure enough, he stopped resisting.
He pressed his forehead against her skirt. Tears fell immediately, rolling down her leg.
“Take those tears back,” she said.
She knew he was good at fake crying now.
He fell silent.
But still didn’t answer.
Zong Yan frowned and stepped on his chest, forcing him to look up at her.
He wore the loose T-shirt she had prepared.
His collar was fastened tight around his neck, leaving faint marks.
His once sharp features had softened with his longer dyed hair, giving him an almost delicate, artistic appearance.
To strangers, he might look like a fragile artist.
But she knew better.
He was just an unruly mad dog.
The mad dog bit his lip. Tears gathered in his eyes but didn’t fall.
His chest rose and fell rapidly under her foot.
He was truly shaken.
She scanned the room and quickly spotted the culprits.
The chains.
She lifted one and pressed it against his face.
“This?”
His voice came out strained. “Who used it?”
“I’ll kill him.”
Zong Yan sighed inwardly.
He was always saying that.
She leaned down, pressing her knee against him.
“Shut up.”
She paused, then added:
“Stupid dog. Do you have no brain?”
He was heartbroken.
He had endured her absence. Obeyed her. Waited for her.
Finally came to see her—
Only to think she had someone new.
And now she called him stupid.
He knew she disliked his foolishness.
But she had said she only wanted him.
Zong Yan sighed inwardly.
Explaining wouldn’t help.
Actions would.
Click.
Click.
The cuffs on the chains snapped shut around someone’s wrists.
Clothes were pushed aside.
Someone tried to speak, but couldn’t form words.
…
Zong Yan frowned slightly.
“Why are you so hot today?”
…
The room, barely over twenty degrees Celsius, became soaked with sweat.
…
Later, after settling the overexcited pet into clean sheets, Zong Yan noticed the bottle on the nightstand.
It was almost empty.
Her heart sank.
She shook him awake.
“Si Jiang. Did you drink this?”
He squinted weakly. His voice was hoarse.
“Yes… why?”
Zong Yan’s expression darkened.
“Do you feel unwell anywhere?”
He whispered weakly:
“What do you think…”
His whole body ached.
She paused.
“After drinking it, did anything feel… different?”
He wanted to answer properly.
But he was too exhausted.
Different?
Not really.
Did heightened arousal count?
…
She watched him fall asleep again.
He didn’t seem visibly ill.
She decided to monitor him first.
This wasn’t cola.
It was something she had received while traveling during her vacation.
A member of a remote tribe had given it to her after she helped him.
She hadn’t understood his words.
Only that it was rare and precious.
She had planned to have it analyzed someday.
Instead, Si Jiang had drunk it.
She hoped it wasn’t toxic.
Three months after Si Jiang returned home—
They had agreed to video call every day.
But one day, Zong Yan got busy.
She didn’t notice he hadn’t contacted her.
When she finally messaged him, there was no reply.
He disappeared completely.
Just as she was about to contact Chen Bai—
Her phone rang.
A WeChat voice call request.
From Si Jiang.
It was 1 AM in Brasília.
She answered.
His voice came through—panicked and exhausted.
“Master… I’m at the airport.”
“Can you come pick me up?”
“My body… doesn’t feel right.”
