Chapter 15: The Gaze of the Wolf-Eagle

On the journey back, the sky was heavy and dark.

Shen Chaoxi sat in the car, leaning against the back seat with her eyes closed. Her black hair was loose and slightly disheveled, her face pale and frail.

Yu Mo was driving.

His slender, well-defined fingers gripped the steering wheel. Glancing in the rearview mirror, he saw the girl wrapped in a black coat, her face bloodless as she slept with her eyes closed.

For some reason, he suddenly saw her open her eyes, frowning, her hand clutching the suit jacket in front of her, quietly tightening her grip.

"Miss Shen," Yu Mo frowned as he noticed her sudden change in expression. Wondering if she was worried about something or feeling unwell, he heard Shen Chaoxi’s soft voice.

"Yu Mo."

"These past three years, being by my side—do you regret it?"

"Why do you ask, Miss Shen?"

Yu Mo lowered his gaze, hands gripping the steering wheel, half his face shrouded in the night shadows cast by the window. Shen Chaoxi studied his profile as she spoke.

"I want to know—following someone like me, who has done countless terrible things, ruthless and unforgivable, do you regret it?" Her gaze was inscrutable, her tone laced with an eerie chill.

She herself was just like that—unstable, dark-hearted. She was the most venomous rose in all of Dongzhou.

"My life belongs to you, Miss Shen," Yu Mo said, his long phoenix eyes reflecting a hint of complicated emotion. Pressing his thin lips together, he added, "I do not regret it."

Hearing this, Shen Chaoxi arched an eyebrow ever so slightly, then lowered her lashes, as if his answer was exactly what she expected.

Of course.

His life was hers. She had saved him.

And so, for three years, he had stayed by her side, dutifully serving as her personal bodyguard, never leaving her, always ensuring her safety.

But suddenly, Shen Chaoxi felt conflicted. Would someone like him truly enjoy being bound? Trapped within the dark confines of W Group.

After all, their first meeting had been anything but pleasant—filled with hatred, even murderous intent.

Shen Chaoxi would never forget that stormy night, when he, covered in blood, looked at her, his breaths ragged, pressing a gun to her head with eyes as wild and sharp as a wolf or a hawk.

He looked as though he wanted to tear out her throat, drink her blood, devour her flesh!

"Someone’s after you?" Shen Chaoxi arched an eyebrow, her kohl-lined eyes raised at him.

Her long lashes were damp, the robe slipping from her shoulders to reveal a slender, alabaster neck. Streaked with blood from his fingers, strange and ornate patterns wound around her throat, making her gaze, when it landed on him, seem both accusatory and provocative.

In Yongdu, within a lavish private estate, the fountain water flowed silently, white gauze curtains fluttering in the breeze.

The floor-to-ceiling window was shattered; he had climbed in through it.

Dirty footprints trailed across the marble. Blood stained the glass.

Seeing his ruthless glare and his silence, the girl curved her lips in a slight smile, her warm breath brushing his face, so close.

"Do you know who I am?" she asked, daring him to point a gun at her so recklessly.

It was then that Shen Chaoxi first saw the look in his eyes—wolfish, hawk-like, fierce and defiant, carrying the chill of bloodshed and death.

The cold of the night seemed to wrap around her.

"You’re wounded—you’re no match for me." She saw him pin her against the wall, blood seeping from his abdominal wound, cold sweat beading on his handsome, gloomy face.

Shen Chaoxi raised her hand, gently gripping the gun in his, her voice soft. "But don’t worry."

"I won’t call anyone to catch you."

Their first meeting began with his gun pressed to her head.

Soon after, their second encounter—she saved his life.

From then on, this man who once looked at her like a predatory beast gave her what little patience he possessed.

He became the chief bodyguard to the young mistress of W Group—her right hand, handling her affairs within the organization and safeguarding her, striking fear into all.

Inside the car, the dim lighting pulled Shen Chaoxi’s memories back. Her eyes grew dull, shadowed with gloom.

Her pale, bloodless face was barely visible, but her voice drifted through the darkness. "Before coming to Sand City, did you investigate me—"

Her voice dropped, as if asking something of utmost seriousness.

Suddenly, his hand spun the steering wheel, pulling over by the roadside.

His palm was broad, fingers long and defined, veins faintly visible beneath the thin skin, calluses on his fingertips, a red cord with a moonstone tied around his wrist, his fingers seeming almost translucent in the faint light.

"I don’t understand what you mean, Miss Shen."

At his reply, Shen Chaoxi raised an eyebrow. Through the rearview mirror, she saw the man’s head lowered, gaze deep and dark, his face shadowed, as though he dared not meet her eyes.

Yet his eyes remained calm, as if her doubts were merely her own illusions.

"Yu Mo, what is it you’re curious about?" she asked.

In the past three years, she had never truly investigated his background, only knowing he too came from the underworld.

He had been hunted, and she had saved him.

"I only wish to ensure your safety, Miss Shen," Yu Mo replied in his low, hoarse voice, as if explaining himself.

As for when she had first started suspecting—he tightened his grip on the steering wheel.

"Is that so?" Shen Chaoxi smiled, her lips pale in the darkness, yet her gaze lingered on his profile.

Just then, a message flashed on Yu Mo’s phone.

It was a weather alert for Dongzhou.

Two days later, at 8:59 p.m., it would rain.

The message felt like some kind of scam. He barely glanced at it, paying no mind.

Shen Chaoxi’s eyes dimmed.

She had never truly doubted his identity.

For three years, he had protected her; everything he did was for her.

Including killing, razing the rival’s nightclub, burning down the underground market.

She had told him she disliked the scent of blood and tobacco on him—he changed his ways.

If she acted coy and wanted tiramisu in the middle of a stormy night, he would brave the rain to buy it for her.

She disliked wearing shoes, preferring to wander the villa barefoot—he would always bring her slippers.

Yet he always wore a cold expression.

Reserved, cold by nature, he never wasted words with others.

But again and again, he bowed his head before her, shielding her.

He had grown accustomed to her instability, her ruthlessness, her temper, her venom.

But would a wild wolf or hawk, unbound by chains, truly be conquered by a rose?

He glanced at the girl in the back seat—her face as white as a ghost.

Yu Mo pressed his lips together and said nothing more, gripping the wheel and starting the car once again.

Shen Chaoxi was injured.

And her wounds were serious.

By the time they returned to Yongdu, it was already the next day.

"Good evening, Miss Shen!"

Suddenly, a chorus of voices rang out, clear and resounding.

In a certain city of Dongzhou—

Inside a lavish skyscraper, the transparent elevator chimed as it opened.

Shen Chaoxi, clad in a black leather jacket and flanked by several black-clad bodyguards, appeared at the elevator doors.

After a day and night’s journey, she returned to the group’s headquarters at nightfall.

Outside, the night was deep. Several grand buildings towered above the clouds, black-clad guards stationed everywhere.

Blinding, brilliant lights illuminated the black-and-gold lobby styled like a European palace. The hall was packed with people, all bowing in greeting as she entered.

She led her men into the elevator.

"Second Master."

As the elevator doors closed, a young man in a wine-red suit and sunglasses, hands in his pockets, looked toward the high-speed elevator.

"Did I see that right?" He took off his sunglasses, watching the slender figure surrounded by guards rise in the transparent lift.

"Was that—Gong Shenxi?"

"Miss Shen, the Chairman awaits you on the top floor."

The elevator only reached the second-highest floor. No ordinary person could access the group’s top level.

Shen Chaoxi passed through the brilliant crystal-lit interior, heading for the VIP private lift.

There, dozens of black-suited bodyguards—first-class fighters of the organization—stood in formation. Someone addressed her respectfully.

"I understand," she replied, glancing at Yu Mo behind her.

Her look told him to go handle his own affairs; he need not accompany her further.

Yu Mo pressed his lips together, nodded lightly in response.

He had always stayed by Shen Chaoxi’s side, never more than a step away.

Not that he had never left her, but within the organization, he spent most of his time at her side.

Thus, few dared make any move against Shen Chaoxi.

In their line of work—ruthless, deadly—no one knew how much blood stained their hands. Power struggles and betrayals were commonplace within the group.

That was why he had to protect Shen Chaoxi—it was his duty and his purpose.

Reaching the top floor, Shen Chaoxi was required to surrender her weapons.

No one could bring arms before the Chairman.

A black-and-gold door carved with dragons stood at the end of the hall.

The atmosphere was solemn and imposing, with a dozen burly bodyguards standing watch.

"Miss Shen!"

Seeing her approach, the guards all bowed respectfully.

At that moment, an elderly man in a neat grey suit approached.

He was the old steward of W Group, having served the Chairman for decades.

He stopped before Shen Chaoxi, smiling kindly. "Miss Shen, the Chairman has been waiting for you."

His tone was full of respect.

Shen Chaoxi’s gaze darkened.

Ahead, the black-and-gold doors opened.

Shen Chaoxi walked inside.

"You’ve returned."

A deep, aged voice sounded from the spacious study, where freshly brewed tea steamed on the table.

"Grandfather," Shen Chaoxi whispered softly, her lips parting in a gentle greeting.