Chapter 40: Something Goes Wrong

The girl's eyes seemed to take on a trace of wariness in an instant, a fleeting chill surfacing within their depths.

When the man reached out, intending to check her temperature by touching her forehead, she gripped his wrist, her gaze meeting his dark eyes. It was as if she had sensed that Lu Yunzhou had detected her unease, and thus she stopped him just in time.

“Judging by this weather, I’m afraid this downpour won’t stop until nightfall,” the driver remarked, glancing at the torrential rain streaming from the eaves, washing away the dirt from the ground. At the corner of the temple’s low outer wall, banana leaves, freshly washed to a glossy green, thrashed wildly in the storm.

In that moment, all around was hushed, save for the roar of wind and rain battering the eaves. Water cascaded down, quickly pooling into muddy puddles on the ground.

As the two locked eyes, he gazed at her with long, deep, obsidian eyes—like a lonely abyss, both alluring and intimidating. The light in his eyes dimmed slightly. Then he heard the girl’s hoarse voice: “I’m fine.”

Shen Chaoxi’s expression was calm. She lifted her eyelids and glanced at him, then lowered her gaze to his wrist, which she was still clutching. Her hand was ice-cold.

In that instant, she could feel the warmth of his wrist, seeping through her skin, almost scorching her heart. She let go.

At her movement, Lu Yunzhou’s eyes darkened, his expression turning cold. He stared at her pale, sickly face, a trace of scrutiny in his gaze.

Perhaps it was his imagination, but he always felt she wasn’t as fragile as the rumors claimed. In front of him, she seemed delicate and frail, and yet, just now, he had caught a fleeting glint of coldness in her eyes—a look only possessed by the most alert and quick to react.

This made Lu Yunzhou press his thin lips together, his dark eyes fixed on her, his expression unreadable.

Then, in a low and steady voice, he said, “It seems we’ll have to spend the night here in this temple.” His voice was soft, steady, and cool, and from him emanated a subtle fragrance—like the crisp, tranquil scent of wood—lingering in the scant space between them.

He lowered his hand, and Shen Chaoxi leaned back slightly. Wrapped in the man’s suit jacket, she was shielded from some of the chill seeping in through the dilapidated temple.

“Achoo!” Just then, amidst the sound of falling rain, an ill-timed sneeze broke the silence.

Shen Xin stood in a corner of the temple—one of the few places where the roof didn’t leak. The rest of the floor was damp, scattered with bits of dry grass, and the interior looked filthy and chaotic.

Her sneeze drew the man’s attention. Lu Yunzhou’s gaze shifted to her, his face impassive.

“This temple has been abandoned for years, no incense or offerings, but someone must have lived here before,” he said. “So, there must be firewood stored nearby. Even if not, we can find some dead branches or twigs if we look carefully.”

“Yes, young master Lu,” responded the two drivers who had come down the mountain with them. They began searching the temple.

Sure enough, behind the altar, they found a pile of long-stored firewood, covered by a grey, tattered cloth, thick with cobwebs.

They immediately brought out the firewood and lit it with a lighter. In that moment, a burst of light illuminated the ruined temple.

The fire crackled in the driest spot, away from the leaks. As night fell, at least there was a little warmth and light.

Fortunately, it was summer—even at night the wind was not too cold. Gradually, the rain lessened, its gentle patter audible as droplets rolled from the corners of the eaves.

But after that mountain storm, no one knew what the road down was like. They dared not risk driving down yet.

By nightfall, the mountains were silent, the faint chirr of insects still audible. Shen Xin frowned, glancing at the men in the temple, her gaze finally lingering on the handsome young man standing by the wheelchair. Her expression dimmed.

“I…” Shen Xin’s voice was forlorn as she tried to speak from the corner. Lu Yunzhou looked over at her.

“I want to use the restroom,” she said.

In these remote mountains, finding shelter from the rain was already a blessing, let alone a proper toilet. This region was long abandoned. The path down from Sanqing Peak was treacherous and hard to traverse, which was why they had been forced to stop and seek refuge.

Shen Xin said she would look around nearby for a place to relieve herself. The driver, worried for her safety, accompanied her.

She asked him to wait outside the grove.

Outside, it was pitch black. The night wind howled like a ghost.

Another driver stayed behind in the temple. Lu Yunzhou stood beside the girl’s wheelchair, arms crossed in a cold, indifferent stance. Tall and upright, he closed his eyes as if resting, speaking not a word.

“Something’s wrong—”

“Young master Lu, something’s wrong!” Suddenly, hurried footsteps sounded outside the temple.

The driver who had gone with Shen Xin returned in a panic, reporting to the man guarding the girl.

Lu Yunzhou’s face remained composed, his figure standing tall against the moonlit gloom, his eyes deep and cold, betraying not the slightest alarm—even when told that Shen Xin had vanished and may have met with misfortune.

He merely parted his lips, his voice low and indifferent, “What happened?”

“I went with Miss Shen Xin to the woods nearby,” the driver said anxiously, eyes wild with worry. “She told me to wait outside while she went in. I waited and waited, but heard nothing. When I called out, there was no reply. That’s when I realized she was gone.”

The man in front of her stood tall, his expression impassive. Upon hearing the driver’s account, a flash of complex emotion flickered in his dark eyes, but coldness soon settled there.

Throughout, only Shen Chaoxi sat quietly in her wheelchair, wrapped in a black suit jacket. Her hands and feet were still icy.

Like her cool, misty eyes—calm and unchanging, even upon hearing that Shen Xin was missing. It was as if she were listening to news of a stranger, utterly indifferent.

“Come with me. We’ll search the area!” Lu Yunzhou ordered in a low, cold voice.

After all, he had promised Old Master Shen to bring both Shen Chaoxi and Shen Xin back safely. Now, with Shen Xin missing in the mountains after a storm, anything could happen.

Lu Yunzhou took the two drivers to search the nearby woods, instructing her to stay put.

And indeed, where could Shen Chaoxi go? In her wheelchair, movement was difficult. Even if they wanted to bring her, it wasn’t feasible; she could barely move on her own.

Her leg injury had been sustained during a joint military operation in Dongzhou. On the day the W Group building exploded, she had, covered in blood, escaped at the last moment. Had she not, that building would have been her grave.

After the storm, a white mist shrouded the forest. In the ruined temple, only the fire burned, casting light on a figure that quietly slipped inside, footsteps soft as a ghost.

By the fire, the girl in the wheelchair sat, her features cool and pale, eyes clouded with somber mist.

They drew near in silence.

Only when they were close did the flickering flames reveal the girl’s sickly, deathly face.

She raised her eyes, coldness spilling from their depths, meeting the gaze of the black-clad figures surrounding her.

Emerging from the darkness, five or six shadowy men, all dressed in black and holding daggers, closed in on the girl in the wheelchair.

The temple was so dim they could not read the expression in her eyes. But as they moved in, Shen Chaoxi lifted her gaze, her eyes as cold as ice to the very core.