The world lay shrouded in gloom, torrential rain hammering down.

The vast villa stood deathly silent. Every guard and maid had been dismissed—only Mo Xuan and Yun Jiumo remained.

Rushing through the opulent, hushed corridor, Mo Xuan’s first thought was to bolt outside, flag down any passing car—anything to escape this dangerous woman.

But when he lunged at the stairwell door and twisted the handle again and again to no avail, despair crashed over him. He was trapped. Truly trapped.

Only two paths led downstairs. One blocked. No choice but to retrace his steps.

Then—a distant, honeyed call sliced through the silence, shattering that fragile hope.

“Darling… where are you?”

Sweet. Tender. Overflowing with devotion. Just hearing it painted her smiling face in his mind.

Yun Jiumo often used this tone in bed—playful, insatiable, delicate as a budding flower. Once, it stirred boundless tenderness in him.

Now? Fear surged through Mo Xuan like a tsunami. His hands gripped the door. Every hair stood on end.

Since seeing her true face, every gentle word felt like a hunter’s lure—soft bait to lower his guard before the strike.

*Pink hair, harder hit. Sweeter voice, deadlier hand.*

She’d slip drugs into his drink without blinking, then insist it was “for his good.” At this point? He’d believe she’d turn him into a vegetable just to keep him.

This wasn’t his wife. Not the woman he’d shared days with. This was a deranged phantom.

Light footsteps drew nearer. Cold sweat poured down his brow as he scrambled for another exit.

Downstairs sealed. Only option: hide-and-seek on the fourth floor.

He dove into the study, slammed the door shut, and braced his back against it.

Even that simple motion left his heart pounding, body hollowed out.

*How much did she drug me?!*

He doubled over, coughing weakly, face pale as paper.

A crisp, polite knock echoed behind him.

“Darling… are you in there?”

Her sugary voice seeped through the wood, freezing his blood.

*Rhetorical? Is she breaking me mentally first?*

He wouldn’t answer. Wouldn’t open. He feared facing her. If only this were a nightmare—wake tomorrow cradling Shen Bingyao, alive and healing, Shen Bingjing no longer glaring with hate…

But he feared waking to a life trapped in bed forever.

Silence. The knocking faded. He exhaled.

*Click.*

The doorknob turned.

*Damn! She has every key!*

He grabbed the knob, straining—but his drugged, drained body betrayed him. Hands forced to turn. Bracing the door? Like an ant shaking a mountain.

“Heaven help me…” he whispered, stepping back, legs trembling.

The door swung open. Cool air drifted in. A snow-white silhouette emerged.

Yun Jiumo smiled, eyes tender as ever—yet deep within, a crimson glint flickered. Like a starved vampire rising for a feast.

She stepped across the crimson carpet, unashamedly displaying the alluring figure she wore only for him. *Because he’d once said he liked it.*

A forked lightning flash split the sky. Thunder drowned the rain.

Mo Xuan retreated until his back hit the desk. Yun Jiumo tilted her head, raven hair spilling over her shoulder.

She raised a pale, soft hand, palm upturned, voice trembling with longing:

“Darling… come to me.”

“And what happens after?” Mo Xuan forced a smile.

“Drink the medicine first.”

“Then lie in bed until the universe ends?”

She shook her head gently. “I’ll take care of you.”

“To hell with your ‘care’! Who wants this?!”

Rage and terror erupted. He snatched a book, hurled it at her, spun around, and bolted through another door. Panting, he circled the hall, then scrambled up the stairs.

*All downstairs doors locked. Rooftop—maybe hope there.*

He slammed against the glass rooftop door. *Unlocked!* He shoved it open, stumbled into the storm, and slipped hard onto the wet floor.

Rain blurred his vision, soaked him instantly—but for a heartbeat, he felt free.

Footsteps splashed behind him. He scrambled up.

Yun Jiumo’s face was grim. She strode into the downpour, pace quickening.

“Stop!” Mo Xuan raised a hand—and she halted.

He wiped rain from his face, gave up. Lungs burned.

“You’ll catch cold…” she murmured, eyes worried.

“So what? This body catches cold without rain.”

Her gaze darkened.

“Listen. Two paths. One: I return with you—but no more drugs. No chains. I go where I please. You don’t interfere.”

She stayed silent. Wet hair clung to her cheeks. A hint of ferocity twisted her lips.

Mo Xuan couldn’t see clearly. “Second path… we divorce.”

His trump card. His trembling courage.

*She begged to marry me. Divorce must make her relent…*

She answered with swift, determined steps.

“Hey—!” His blood ran cold. *Not how it was supposed to go.*

He’d backed to the rooftop edge. No railing. *His own suggestion.* He’d called waist-high rails “an eyesore.” Yun Jiumo removed them the next day.

He didn’t realize he stood on the brink.

Terror flashed in Yun Jiumo’s eyes.

His foot slipped. Balance vanished. He fell backward.

She lunged after him.

Below: a laundry room. Glass ceiling. A perfect square.

*CRASH.* Glass shattered. Bodies slammed down.

Mo Xuan felt like a sandbag hit by a truck—bones screaming. Warm liquid splattered his face. Coppery. Sweet.

He licked his lips instinctively.

A faint groan came from beneath him. Something soft struggled under his weight.

*No…* He tried to rise—pain blacked his vision. Hands pressed glass-strewn floor. Lifted. Sticky. Crimson.

Beneath him, Yun Jiumo lay splayed, blood soaking her clothes. Two glass shards pierced her abdomen. Blood pooled beneath her.

“Yun… Yun Jiumo…” He rolled off, propped himself on elbows and knees. Glass shards stuck in his shoulder, legs. Blood streamed.

But he barely noticed. *Her wounds…*

“You’ll be fine… you’ll be fine…” he babbled, tears welling. Fear and rage vanished. She was still his wife. Years together. That bond didn’t vanish.

Regret choked him.

Yun Jiumo stirred. Calm. No grimace. No cry. She glanced at her wounds, face pale.

“Stay. I’ll call an ambulance.” Mo Xuan gritted his teeth to stand—but her hand seized his sleeve.

Strange. Her eyes stayed clear. No delirium.

“What’s wrong?” he trembled. Her grip felt strong. *Too strong.*

“Incurable,” she whispered, blood tracing her chin. “Won’t make it to the hospital.”

“Don’t talk nonsense—”

Her palm cupped his cheek. Silenced him.

“If I’m gone… what will become of you?” A murmur—question and lament.

As Mo Xuan opened his mouth to comfort her—

*Agony.* A white-hot stab in his gut. Spine tingled like lightning.

He stared at her tender, radiant smile. Blood gushed from his own lips.

Trembling, he looked down. A glass shard buried deep.

A slender, blood-smeared hand gripped its base.

“Ah… ah…” He gasped like a beached fish. Strength fled. Knees buckled. Body pitched forward.

Yun Jiumo caught him.

Even dying, she smiled—serene, satisfied, luminous.

She leaned to his ear. Blood-stained lips moved slowly.

"If you die, I will follow you into death without hesitation. And if I die, we will be together forever."

Then, she pulled out the glass shard and, with a swift, clean motion, slit Mo Xuan’s throat.

More blood spurted forth. An all-encompassing darkness closed in.

Mo Xuan could utter no sound—only gape his mouth futilely, eyes wide, body twitching.

His consciousness, growing ever heavier, dragged him into a bottomless abyss. Not even a speck of light remained within reach.

In that final flicker before awareness vanished, Yun Jiumo held him tightly, eyes shut, summoning the very last of her strength.

"I will love you forever, Xuan."