After walking a bit further, Qin An suddenly stopped dead in his tracks.

"Pupils, what’s wrong?" Pupils tugged his sleeve, puzzled.

Qin An pressed a finger to his lips.

She stared at him, utterly confused.

A moment later, he pressed his ear to the ground. After listening carefully, he scooped Pupils up and veered left.

She watched him with wide, curious eyes.

"If I’m not mistaken," Qin An said as he walked, "we might’ve found the hot spring."

"Really?" Pupils beamed up at him. She knew Qin An would never lie to her—her voice held not a trace of doubt.

As a girl, cleanliness came naturally to her. She’d planned to bathe in the icy river, but Qin An had refused outright, fearing her fever would return after her recent illness. A hot spring would solve everything—but how could one exist here?

Qin An stayed silent. Pupils nestled quietly against his chest as he quickened his pace.

Ten minutes later, the terrain rose slightly, resembling mountain foothills.

Pushing aside waist-high wild grass, Qin An finally spotted the water source: a steaming hot spring ten meters wide. The gurgling he’d heard was the bubbling from its depths.

He rushed to the edge, scooped water, and tasted it. It had a sulfurous tang but was drinkable. Still, this temperature would boil anyone alive.

He peeled back the broad leaves shielding Pupils from mosquitoes, then dipped his hand into the scalding water to wipe the grime from her face.

"An, it feels like a dream," Pupils murmured innocently.

Qin An chuckled. "From camping to survival mode, then a hot spring getaway with all-you-can-eat wild game. This trip’s seriously overdelivered."

The little girl just blinked her big round eyes, not fully grasping his words.

One hot spring meant others nearby. Qin An searched for one cool enough to bathe in. Days without washing left even him itchy—let alone Pupils with her delicate skin. Yet she’d never complained, ever obedient.

After circling the area, he spotted a usable spring—not by feeling the heat, but by seeing monkeys soaking inside. They were regulars.

Though chasing away the relaxing natives felt rude, Qin An scared off the primates to avoid frightening Pupils.

At eight or nine, some girls began developing—but Pupils wasn’t one of them. That’s why Qin An felt comfortable bathing with her; she was still just a child.

As he washed her hair, she splashed water gleefully.

Spotting two red scratches on her arms from wild grass, Qin An’s heart ached. Pupils had never endured such hardship—first a serious illness, then bitter herbal medicine.

Guilt washed over him as he gently stroked her cheek.

She stared at him without blinking.

Back at the campfire, Pupils munched happily on grilled chicken wings. Qin An eyed a wooden cage beside her, drooling slightly. Inside sat a dazed rabbit with stars swirling above its head—the very same "Mad Hatter."

His crude trap had caught this foolish rabbit by sheer luck. But before Qin An could "execute" it, Pupils had claimed it as her own.

To get wild game, he’d used Doville assassin techniques to ambush a pheasant—chasing it for half an hour. If Doville’s killers knew he’d deployed their skills just to hunt poultry, they’d laugh or weep.

"I wonder if there’s a grinning Cheshire Cat here," Qin An muttered. "But please, no bone-chilling White Queen or her vengeful sister, the Queen of Hearts. Those two are terrifying."

Pupils was still playing with her "Mad Hatter," now renamed "Little White."

Smoke curled from the fire as Qin An gazed at the azure sky. Suddenly, a whooshing sound cut through the air, mixed with strange noises.

A helicopter hovered above, someone waving frantically from its side.

A rope ladder dropped. Qin An hoisted Pupils onto his back, instructing her to cling to his waist like a koala. Little White darted into Pupils’ shirt, burying its head in the fabric as the wind howled.

Gripping the ladder with one hand and supporting Pupils’ bottom with the other, Qin An braced against the swaying. The rope’s friction tore open his healing wounds—he grimaced in pain.

As the helicopter pulled away, the ladder retracted. Qin An stumbled inside, then gently set Pupils down.

The hostage crisis ended just like that. The chopper belonged to the Tong family’s search team. To Qin An’s surprise, two professional snipers—special forces or mercenaries—were aboard. *The Tong family’s power is no joke*, he thought.

The soldiers eyed Qin An curiously but raised no suspicion.

He wasn’t worried. His survival seemed miraculously lucky, but heavy rain and dense jungle made it plausible. Even if doubts lingered, his child’s face would dismiss them.

The only flaw: too many people had died. Unless it was gang warfare or terrorists.

Only two knew who’d killed them: Chen Yang and that foolish woman—Tong Tong.

Chen Yang was manageable. If he surfaced, the Tong family would crush him. If needed, a sniper bullet would silence him forever.

As for Tong Tong—she might find him odd, but suspicion? A primary schooler couldn’t orchestrate this. And as heir to a prestigious family, she’d never cross paths with a commoner like him again.

This new life was precious. Qin An wanted to embrace it with a clean slate—not because he regretted killing, but to avoid future risks. As a former assassin, he knew caution was survival.

The helicopter landed. Huang Jiajun ran over, eyes swollen red. Her cherry lips parted, then closed. She flushed crimson before stiffly asking, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, Class Rep! I’m great!" Qin An flashed a sunny grin.

Huang Jiajun stammered, face burning like a persimmon, before blurting, "G-good." She fled, leaving Qin An bewildered. Pupils had glared at her the whole time—this was the first time she felt Huang Jiajun might steal something precious from her.

Nearby, Tong Tong was briefing police when a middle-aged man with streaks of white in his black hair roared, "I knew that little bastard was trouble! If you hadn’t stopped me, I’d have shot him dead! Hiding in the southwest won’t save him. Don’t you dare set foot here again!"

He punched a hole in a brand-new BMW. *That dent costs thousands*, Qin An winced. *Officials really are filthy rich.*

"Dad, I’m fine! Pupils is safe too. Don’t be angry—it’s bad for your health," Tong Tong soothed, tugging his arm.

"Hmph! If my precious Pupils wasn’t unharmed, I’d dig him up from hell to kill him!" The man’s real fury flared when his granddaughter didn’t rush to comfort him.

He glanced sideways. Pupils stood beside Qin An, clutching his sleeve.

"Boy. Come here."

Qin An pointed at himself. "Me?"

"Obviously."

Qin An trudged over, Pupils clinging to his leg like a shadow.

"Heard you saved my granddaughter. How should I thank you? A ‘Virtuous Youth’ certificate? A ceremony? TV interviews?"

"No need, Uncle! I saved her because I truly care—not for rewards."

"Good lad! China needs more like you! Really no certificate? No ceremony?"

The man’s forehead smoothed. *Uncle* wasn’t said for nothing.

"Wonderful! Wonderful! Wonderful!" He slapped Qin An’s shoulder three times, each blow making Qin An grimace. The man seemed determined to dislocate his bones.

"Grandpa!"

Pupils’ angry shout made him freeze.

"Pupils! Come, let Grandpa check for injuries!" He spread his arms wide.

"Hmph! I don’t like you. I’m finding Grandma!"

Pupils spun around and buried herself in her grandmother’s embrace, leaving the old man stunned.

He shot Qin An a predatory grin. *You think you can court my most precious granddaughter? Dream on.*

The "affectionate" shoulder-slapping resumed. Nearby, the police chief endured a scathing lecture: "Dangerous criminals slipped through your fingers! If my granddaughter had been hurt, selling your whole family wouldn’t cover the debt!"

The police chief’s head nearly touched the floor. Power truly crushes those beneath it. This Director Tong wasn’t just from the provincial capital—he had central government backing too. How could a small-town chief afford to offend him? Not being executed by Tong felt like a miracle. Dismissal seemed trivial by comparison.

After showering at an airport hotel, changing clothes, and eating triple-delight noodles, the Tong family car drove Qin An home. Tong Tong sat in the back, wearing a white-and-green sporty outfit. Her hair was tied in a ponytail. She looked fresh and athletic, like an unmarried maiden—not a mature, alluring woman.

In the back seat, Tong Tong chattered to Huang Jiajun about recent events. She sighed deeply, marveling at her and her daughter’s luck. But hatred for Chen Yang—and herself—drowned that out. Endless regret followed.

Huang Jiajun jumped at every word, heart pounding like it might leap from her throat. She’d never imagined Qin An surviving so much—held at gunpoint yet acting unfazed. Even her genius brother couldn’t pull that off!

The driver first dropped Huang Jiajun at her family’s villa. Mountains hugged three sides; water bordered the fourth. The exquisite Western-style house even had an open-air hot spring. Clearly, the Huangs were wealthy.

Qin An’s alleyways lay just hundreds of meters away. From here, the cluster of low-rise buildings was visible. This was the rich-poor divide.

As they prepared to exit, Tong Tong smiled. “Well then, goodbye!”

“Goodbye, Auntie Tong Tong!” Huang Jiajun chirped playfully.

Tong Tong grabbed her ear, rubbing her temples. “Brat! Call me Sister Tong Tong—or I won’t let you go today.”

Huang Jiajun struggled, then surrendered. “Sister Tong Tong!” Tong Tong beamed. Her long-hidden smile finally returned.

Unconsciously, dimples appeared on Huang Jiajun’s cheeks. She’d been smiling more lately—all because of someone.

Qin An merely nodded, thinking: *Farewell forever.*

Just as Qin An reached the corner, Tong Tong stuck her head out the window. “Wait!”

She flung the car door open and ran to him.

“What?” Qin An snapped impatiently.

Tong Tong whispered in his ear. His face paled instantly—his first panic as a hitman.

She giggled, then kissed his cheek lightly. A faint pink lipstick mark remained.

They didn’t know Huang Jiajun saw it all. From her angle, it looked like a mouth-to-mouth kiss.

Huang Jiajun rubbed her eyes hard. The scene stayed unchanged. Leaning against the wall, she sat on smooth marble, gazing at the sky with quiet loss.