Shen Yuze stepped into the dimly lit room, the heavy door clicking shut behind him.
The air inside was thick with the metallic scent of blood, sweat, and something even heavier—defeat.
Li Xiyan sat on the cold floor, her back pressed against the wall, barely upright.
The overhead light cast harsh shadows across her face, making her look even paler than she already was.
Her long, dark brown wavy hair, once neatly tied back, was now a tangled mess, strands sticking to her damp skin. Blood and dirt marred her delicate features—high cheekbones, soft yet sharp in structure, her full lips dry and cracked.
She was a mess.
Her shirt clung to her body, soaked through with sweat and blood.
The bullet wound on her back hadn't stopped bleeding, sluggish but relentless, staining the fabric a deep crimson.
Long, jagged gashes carved into her ribs from where she had crashed into the gate spikes, the torn flesh still raw, an angry red against her skin. Bruises bloomed across her arms and legs, deep and dark, marking every impact, every blow she had endured.
And yet—despite the sheer agony her body had to be in—her face was utterly blank.
Emotionless.
She didn't even look up when he entered.
Like she had already given up.
Shen Yuze's jaw tightened.
He had seen many things in his life—traitors, liars, people who would say anything to save their own skin. But this woman…
She wasn't even trying.
He took a step forward.
His voice, when he finally spoke, was cold. Sharp.
"Who are you really?"
No response.
"Don't make me repeat myself."
Still, she didn't move. Didn't react. It was as if she didn't even register his words.
His patience thinned.
"You expect me to believe you had no part in this? That you just happened to be there—taking my daughter and running—with no connection to those men?"
At that, Li Xiyan finally let out a slow, shaky breath.
Then, she laughed.
It was a quiet, broken sound, hollow and bitter, like shattered glass.
Her lips curled slightly, not in amusement, but something closer to exhaustion.
"Believe whatever you want." Her voice was hoarse, barely above a whisper.
Shen Yuze's eyes darkened.
"So Yan Xiuran sent you, then?"
Li Xiyan stilled.
For the first time, her fingers twitched. A small reaction, but he caught it.
His voice was sharp, probing. "Did he send you to do his bidding? To lead me in circles while he got away? Or did you act alone?"
Another laugh, this one softer. She shook her head slowly.
"You really think I work for him?" she murmured.
"You really think he would do all of this?" this time her voice was even softer.
Shen Yuze's patience was razor-thin. "Then explain to me why his name is all over this mess. The place my daughter was held—his. The men involved—his. Everything leads back to Yan Xiuran. So tell me, Li Xiyan, where exactly do you fit into all of this?"
She exhaled shakily. Her body swayed slightly, the pain finally catching up to her. But her voice, though weak, didn't waver.
"I don't."
Shen Yuze narrowed his eyes. "Then why were you there? If you weren't part of it, then tell me—what the hell were you doing?"
Li Xiyan slowly lifted her head, finally meeting his gaze.
Her eyes, once sharp and piercing—were dull now. Hollow.
"Trying to save her."
Silence stretched between them.
For the first time, something flickered across Shen Yuze's face. It was gone as quickly as it appeared.
But then his expression hardened.
"You expect me to believe that?" His voice was cold. "You think I'll just take your word for it?"
He took another step forward, his presence looming over her. "You think I'd trust the words of someone with a forged identity?"
His tone was sharp, cutting. "Your entire existence is fake. There is no Li Xiyan before three years ago. No past. No history. So tell me—why the hell should I believe anything you say?"
Li Xiyan's breath hitched, but she didn't react.
Of course. Of course he had found out.
Her name. Her life. Everything—manufactured.
But what did it matter now? What did any of it matter?
She doesn't care anymore.
Shen Yuze studied her, frustration flashing in his gaze. "You seem to think you have a choice here."
He took a slow, deliberate step closer.
"Your wounds are severe. If I don't send someone to treat you, you won't last the night."
Nothing.
"Talk, Li Xiyan."
Silence.
His voice dropped lower, colder.
"You want to live, don't you?"
At that, Li Xiyan laughed.
It was quiet. Hoarse. Almost like a breath more than a sound.
But it was the kind of laugh that sent an unfamiliar feeling crawling up his spine.
Slowly, she lifted her gaze again, her lips parting slightly—just enough to let the words slip through.
"If you want to use my life as a bargaining chip," she rasped, "then you should make sure I actually want to live first."
Shen Yuze froze.
Something—something sharp twisted in his chest.
He wasn't sure what he had expected from her—denials, protests, maybe even a desperate attempt to justify herself. But this?
This was different.
His sharp gaze swept over her again.
The state of her body. The emptiness in her eyes.
This wasn't a woman who was afraid.
This was a woman who had already lost everything.
A flicker of something unreadable passed through his eyes, but his expression remained impassive.
He studied her for another long moment before exhaling quietly.
Then, without a word, he pulled out his phone.
"Come in," he ordered.
A few seconds later, the door opened, and two medical personnel stepped inside.
Li Xiyan didn't react. She didn't move when they knelt beside her, when they carefully began treating her wound. She didn't wince when antiseptic touched raw flesh.
She just sat there.
Like a hollow shell of a person.
Shen Yuze watched her, his expression unreadable.
She should have been relieved. Most people would have at least flinched at the pain.
But Li Xiyan did nothing.
It was as if… none of this mattered to her anymore.
Shen Yuze turned away, his voice low and cold.
"Make sure she doesn't die," he ordered.
But even as he left the room, a single thought lingered in his mind.
What happened to this woman?
And why did it feel like—no matter what he did—he was already too late?