Wu Haoyu's POV
The SUV's tires screamed against the highway as we tore out of Wuhan, the city lights blurring into streaks of gold and white beyond the window. My hands gripped the armrest, knuckles white, my pulse hammering so hard I could feel it in my throat. Yanyan sat beside me, her face pale but set like stone, her eyes fixed on the road ahead as if she could will us to Shanghai faster. Yang Wei's words—"They've lost the van"—hung in the air like a death knell, and every second that ticked by felt like a rope tightening around my chest.
