Inside the cabin, all was deathly silent.
Hanging just outside a square window was a broken, battered human form. His clothes were shredded, his entire body covered in wounds with raw, torn flesh. Rain mingled with fresh blood, trickling down his trembling frame in streamlets and threads. Had it not been for the subtle, strained twitch of his head, it would have looked like a framed painting of death.
Yet it was precisely because he moved.
Because he moved, the painting of death transformed into a portrait of pure horror.
This horrific spectacle—crafted through human torture—instilled a tremor that rose from the very depths of the soul, even when viewed from afar.
The bodyguards stared at Ji Xun. The bosses stared at Ji Xun.
Among the crowd, Huo Ranyin and Meng Fushan stared at Ji Xun as well.
Huo Ranyin watched with his own eyes as Ji Xun fell right before him, plunging into the sea. The moment that battered, bleeding body hit the ocean water, it jerked violently.
Pain.
The salinity of the seawater hitting those open wounds must have felt like a school of fish tearing away at his flesh.
No one noticed—not even Huo Ranyin himself—that tiny goosebumps had broken out on his arms beneath his clothes, flushed with an allergy-like redness. It was the most direct, physical manifestation of Ji Xun’s agony reflecting onto his own body.
He blinked suddenly.
Unbeknownst to him, the scene outside the window had changed.
It became slightly distorted, turning coarse and grainy.
Blurry particles flickered across Huo Ranyin’s line of sight. Was something wrong with his eyes? He blinked repeatedly, yet those dense, mottled specks continued to dance erratically across his vision.
Huo Ranyin raised his hand to look. Away from the pitch-black view outside the window, he seemed to see those densely fluttering specks right on his own skin.
Dried, dark specks.
Blood specks welling up from inside Ji Xun’s body.
Mr. Liu would not kill Ji Xun.
They all shared this assessment.
Mr. Liu would only torture Ji Xun relentlessly—either driving Ji Xun insane, or driving the onlookers insane.
Huo Ranyin looked out the window once more.
The window was a cage. The man bound in chains within that cage was submerged into the sea, hauled back up, and submerged again. Suffocation and despair were stretched out endlessly within those brief, fleeting gasps for air, while blood continuously poured from his body.
His blood was going to run dry.
It was going to bleed out completely for others.
The blood specks on his hands began burrowing beneath his skin. His hands were stained red—stained red by Ji Xun’s blood.
Mr. Liu was the primary perpetrator; he was the accomplice—
Huo Ranyin suddenly stepped away from the crowd.
Meng Fushan silently followed.
One after the other, they arrived at another section of the cabin below the deck.
Huo Ranyin pushed open a window and looked down at the sea.
Watching Huo Ranyin’s movements in silence, Meng Fushan suddenly blurted out, “Is the time Ji Xun bought for us enough already? You actually plan to jump into the sea to save him right now?”
“What else?” Huo Ranyin said. “Ji Xun is waiting for me.”
“Get this straight—Ji Xun willingly endured that torture to buy us a victory, not to give you a chance to act on impulse! The wind is fierce and the waves are high. You have zero gear—what are you going to use to haul Ji Xun up if you jump down there? Your life?” Meng Fushan frowned. “And then what is the rescued Ji Xun supposed to do? Spend another three years drowning in self-reproach and ruin?”
Huo Ranyin turned back to look at Meng Fushan.
“Ji Xun is waiting for me,” he repeated. “I can’t be too late, or he’ll complain.”
“…What Ji Xun created for us is an opportunity to win without sacrifice,” Meng Fushan said, suppressing his frustration at talking past Huo Ranyin. “If we go up there, we have a chance.”
“I assume by ‘going up’ you mean launching a surprise attack on Mr. Liu. We do have a chance, but once we step up there, Mr. Liu will no longer have a reason to keep Ji Xun alive. If we successfully control the scene, everyone’s happy—but what if we fail? What if Mr. Liu’s men simply dump the heavy iron chains wrapping Ji Xun straight into the deep ocean?” Huo Ranyin countered flatly.
Chained and bound.
Weighted down into the abyss.
Then Ji Xun would have absolutely zero chance of survival.
Huo Ranyin could not afford a single ounce of risk in this matter.
He turned his gaze back to the surface of the sea. “I’m going down… Don’t worry, I will definitely bring Ji Xun back. As for you, you must stay here to provide backup for Ji Xun. After that, wait patiently.”
His eyes darted briefly to his watch before snapping back to the sea.
“Mr. Liu is running out of time. The police will be here very soon. Stay safe and wait patiently. Protecting the hostages doesn’t fall on you, nor does it fall on Ji Xun—it belongs to the police. To me.”
Huo Ranyin looked back at Meng Fushan:
“Don’t meddle in duties that aren’t yours.”
“Listen to that big talk,” Meng Fushan sneered. “As if you’re the only one who can jump down and save Ji Xun.”
“I am a police officer,” Huo Ranyin said.
“So am I.”
“You were.”
“I was—and this is what Ji Xun owes me,” Meng Fushan said coldly.
Huo Ranyin finally frowned.
“You know nothing, yet you want to control everything—isn’t that a bit too arrogant? Ji Xun is conceited enough as it is, but your arrogance is even more infuriating than his,” Meng Fushan said mercilessly. “Move aside. I’m going down to haul him up. I brought him here, and I will be the one to bring him back.”
Huo Ranyin looked at the ocean again, then turned to face Meng Fushan.
The waves were raging so violently; whoever went down would face death head-on.
“Why argue with me over this?” Huo Ranyin asked. “You don’t trust that I can save Ji Xun?”
“My apologies, but it’s not that I don’t trust you,” Meng Fushan said. “I only trust myself. I will save Ji Xun; there are things I must tell him. As for you—stay here and cover us.”
Without a third word, both men drew their guns at the same instant, pointing their barrels straight at each other.
However, only a single second passed.
Huo Ranyin took a deep breath. “Lower your gun.”
Meng Fushan: “Simultaneously.”
One, two, three…
They counted three silently in their minds. Neither delayed, and both lowered their guns at the exact same moment.
Ji Xun was still in Mr. Liu’s hands. If they started an internal feud right now, Mr. Liu would laugh his head off.
Calm down.
Huo Ranyin pinched his palm hard, a trace of blood oozing out between his fingers.
Calm down. Convince Meng Fushan.
Only by convincing Meng Fushan could he jump down to save Ji Xun without lingering worries, without wasting precious time here.
Meng Fushan was anxious too; Meng Fushan had exposed a flaw when he blurted out that Ji Xun “owed him”…
Was it Ji Yu?
No, Meng Fushan had been deeply in love with Ji Yu. What he did for Ji Yu could never constitute what he called “what Ji Xun owed him.”
Ji Xun had once said that he ditching him to come up here was because he was threatened by Meng Fushan…
“You used that thing Ji Xun owes you to threaten him,” Huo Ranyin said. “I had someone look into you. You were dismissed from the police force because you overstayed your leave in Malaysia by a long shot. Did you overstay in Malaysia because of Ji Xun?”
He caught a flash of surprise in the depths of Meng Fushan’s eyes.
Huo Ranyin sneered internally.
He looked down on Meng Fushan, and Meng Fushan looked down on him.
It made perfect sense that the two of them found each other entirely repulsive.
He closed his eyes briefly. Ji Xun’s voice was echoing in his ears—constantly reverberating, messing with his thoughts, making it impossible to concentrate.
Even though he utterly loathed Meng Fushan, right now he could only seek Meng Fushan’s help: “Ji Xun is still crying out in pain. Did you hear what he said? He’s too weak, I can’t hear clearly.”
“What are you talking about?” Meng Fushan frowned, his distrust deepening. “Aside from that segment broadcast over the megaphone on the deck, there hasn’t been a sound from Ji Xun at all. Ji Xun wouldn’t scream aimlessly either; he would only conserve his strength to hold on. You…”
Huo Ranyin didn’t want to hear whatever Meng Fushan was about to say next.
Amidst the chaos, he located the anchor of his sanity once more: “An Jie. Ji Yu’s boyfriend. He went missing shortly after Ji Yu’s case broke out. The last traceable footprint he left was a trip to Malaysia. You were in Malaysia, Ji Xun was in Malaysia, and An Jie was in Malaysia. Then An Jie vanished, you were discharged from the police force, and Ji Xun…”
“Ji Xun…” Huo Ranyin paused, “…killed An Jie?”
“‘Ji Xun killed An Jie,'” Meng Fushan repeated. “So, are you going to gamble your life to jump down and save a murderer now?”
“I suspected him of murder back during Ji Yu’s case,” Huo Ranyin said coldly. “And I’ve already saved him before.”
“…”
“Now it’s just one more An Jie added to the list. Suspicion doesn’t equal the truth. Whatever the truth really is, I will investigate and figure it out myself.”
They stared at each other for a few seconds.
Meng Fushan turned his gaze away, his speaking speed picking up rapidly:
“Ji Xun didn’t kill anyone. Ji Xun ditched me to hunt down An Jie on his own. I was worried about Ji Xun, so I pursued him. On a beach in Malaysia, I witnessed the moment Ji Xun attacked An Jie—but in the end, Ji Xun didn’t actually go through with it. At his most hateful, most broken moment, he still chose to spare An Jie. After that, he bought alcohol every day in Malaysia, getting dead drunk. Later on, An Jie died. When I found them, Ji Xun hadn’t even woken from his stupor, while his personal knife was clutched in the dead An Jie’s hand—obviously, someone framed Ji Xun.”
Instantly, Huo Ranyin pieced together the general situation that followed.
Meng Fushan had moved the dead-drunk Ji Xun away from the crime scene and erased some of the traces Ji Xun had left behind.
However, perhaps due to an unfortunate stroke of bad luck, his actions at the scene were spotted by locals. He became entangled in An Jie’s murder case, perhaps even detained by the Malaysian police, forcing him to overstay in Malaysia and miss his return date… ultimately resulting in his discharge from the force.
“Was the case solved?”
“A gangland double-cross,” Meng Fushan said. “An Jie went to Malaysia looking for snakeheads to smuggle him out and get a new identity. The snakeheads turned on An Jie and took him out.”
“Ji Xun didn’t know about this?” Huo Ranyin couldn’t comprehend it.
“Later, I returned to China and looked for Ji Xun. Ji Xun had already resigned from the police force.”
Meng Fushan still didn’t elaborate much.
Yet those few simple sentences were enough for Huo Ranyin to fill in the rest of the picture.
Meng Fushan had caught a glimpse of the mastermind behind the scenes, but because of the delay, he was forced out of the police force. When he came looking for Ji Xun again, he naturally wanted to inform Ji Xun of all this and hoped Ji Xun could assist him from within the force so they could investigate the case together—
A case tied to Ji Yu, tied to Ji Xun, and manipulated by an invisible hand.
Yet by the time Meng Fushan sought him out, Ji Xun had already left the force.
Ji Xun had walked away on his own.
He hadn’t noticed that something was wrong with him back then… He should have noticed immediately.
He was simply… simply completely broken by his sister’s case.
And so, Meng Fushan had been investigating alone all the way until now.
“You never told Ji Xun about what happened in Malaysia,” Huo Ranyin said. “Yet now, you let Ji Xun board this ship.”
“Because I had no one else left to trust. I’ve walked too far down this road,” Meng Fushan said softly. “And Ji Xun—though he once strayed—turned back around and became that reliable companion once again…”
“Ji Xun never changed.”
Meeting Meng Fushan’s incoming gaze, Huo Ranyin repeated it firmly.
“Ji Xun never changed. He just lost his way and needed someone to bring him back. And I can—only I can. We are travelers on the same road; whether it leads to life or death, our path is identical.”
Huo Ranyin murmured in a low voice.
Meng Fushan had no words left to offer.
This time, he didn’t object any further.
“Bring Ji Xun back. If I don’t get the chance to speak, tell Ji Xun these things yourself.”
He chose to trust Huo Ranyin.
Ji Xun was lightheaded and dazed.
Under continuous trauma, his brain inevitably drifted toward numbness. Pain was still torturing his nerves, but at this moment, he actually wished the pain were a bit more severe—otherwise…
Ji Xun used a mental countdown to stay focused.
According to the previous pattern, they would pull him up from the seawater after about one minute, then lower him back down within ten seconds.
However, as time dragged on, the intervals underwater grew longer, while the time spent pulled out grew shorter.
It seemed they were growing increasingly impatient… wanting to make the ocean his final resting place.
One minute and ten seconds.
The chains pulled upward once more.
Except this time, an accident occurred. A massive wave crested over him. Ji Xun tried his best to tilt his head back—to no avail. He failed to catch even a single breath of fresh air before being plunged back down.
The air stored in his lungs had already been completely depleted during the previous minute.
The agony in his chest reached a threshold and began to blur, turning into a hollow, parched emptiness.
Within that void, his consciousness felt as though it had grown a pair of wings, flying higher and higher, becoming increasingly ethereal…
Until, through the blur, he suddenly spotted a shadow repeatedly striving to reach him through the surging waves.
The waves were constantly fighting the shadow, slapping it far away.
Every time it pushed forward a little, it was forced back, only to push forward again and be forced back once more.
The distance between him and the shadow seemed so vast that they would never close it… yet that seemingly impossible gap was conquered by the shadow within another minute.
The shadow wrapped around him, forcefully blowing air into his mouth.
The blurry mist before his eyes cleared slightly, and he saw a face.
His vision wasn’t crystal clear, yet that face appeared undeniably vivid before him.
Because it had long been etched into his heart, the moment the faint outline appeared, his brain automatically filled in every single detail.
His sight returned, and his bodily senses revived along with it.
The other man’s body pressed tightly against his own. Their heartbeats, originating from two distinct paths, gradually converged toward the center until they overlapped as one.
Ji Xun tugged at the corners of his mouth, offering a faint, blurry smile. He felt the other man’s hand sliding toward his wrist, so he raised his fingertips with great effort, giving them a slight wiggle.
That hand paused for a beat.
And so Ji Xun knew—Huo Ranyin had discovered the piece of iron wire clamped between his fingertips and the already picked lock.
So.
Though it looked pretty grim, it wasn’t quite that hopeless.
The smile at the corner of his mouth grew a touch more triumphant.
The lock on his hands was opened, but there were still the ones at his waist and feet.
Just as Huo Ranyin reached out to pull at the chains wrapped around Ji Xun’s waist, a faint beam of light suddenly pierced through the pitch-black seawater.
This time, Ji Xun truly saw Huo Ranyin’s face clearly.
That familiar face—the face he had mapped out in his heart—brought him a comfort that matched, and far exceeded, anything he had imagined.
But why was there light?
Had the wind and rain ceased, and the dark clouds dispersed?
No, that wasn’t it.
He struggled to turn his head and spotted a ship appearing in the far distance over the sea.
Was that the police vessel?
But at the very least, the police vanguard should have arrived by helicopter.
Then—
The chains wrapped around his body tightened instantly, dragging Ji Xun violently out of the water once more. The last thing he felt was Huo Ranyin’s panic-stricken fingers reaching out to him, brushing past his cheek like a rainbow leaping across the dark, somber sea—scattering all the pain and exhaustion in his body with brilliant radiance and vibrant warmth.
He was hauled back onto the deck, lying drenched among the crowd of bodyguards. A bodyguard pointed a gun with the safety off directly at him.
He watched as Mr. Liu instructed A’Bang to flash a light signal for help toward the ship that had suddenly appeared in the distance.
