chapter 7

chapter 7

The restless footsteps outside distracted Yang Yun.

The instant her attention slipped, I twisted her arm behind her back and locked her in place.

The utility knife slid from my sleeve. Its keen blade rested lightly against her smooth cheek.

“Don’t move unless you want a scar.”

With a gentle turn of my wrist, I drew the blade down to her throat. The body in my grip trembled like a lamb awaiting slaughter.

Yang Yun froze in terror.

In the end, she was only a high school student—a vicious coward who preyed on the weak. People like her feared for their lives as soon as they met someone more unhinged than themselves.

“Yang Yun, right?

“You live at 36 Zhongshan Avenue and take the number eight bus home every day.

“Your family is comfortably middle class. Your father travels for work, and your mother stays home to care for your five-year-old brother. Happy, prosperous lives all around.

“They’ve probably made dinner and are waiting for you. Would you like to die here with me?

“You’ve investigated me, so you know I have nothing. Only a paralyzed grandfather.

“I wonder whether a rich girl’s life is worth more than mine.”

My low, hoarse voice echoed through the deathly quiet restroom.

I pressed my fingers down. The thin blade left a fine line of blood across her neck.

I touched one fingertip to the bright bead and held it before her eyes.

The cut was tiny. If she waited any longer to visit a hospital, it might heal on its own.

But the sight of blood drained the strength from Yang Yun’s legs. Her lips trembled, and for a long while she could not speak.

It was fortunate the people outside could not see us. Otherwise, they would probably be screaming that I was out of character again.

In a novel, behaving less than kindly might be called turning dark.

But if I was the heroine, why did I have to be weak? Why was I forbidden to become strong?

A cool drop landed on my pale wrist.

I looked down and realized it was one of Yang Yun’s tears.

“I was wrong. I was wrong, Wen Qiuyu. I’ll never bully you again.

“I… I don’t want to die. Please let me go. Please.”

Her voice was dry and shaking, every word threaded with a sob.

Satisfied, I nodded. For effect, I seized a small lock of her hair and sliced it off.

“You mean that?”

“Yes. I swear. I promise.”

Cold air touched the back of her neck. Yang Yun collapsed onto the tiles, her uniform skirt soaking in filthy water. From her bloodless face and utter lack of resistance, I knew my days ahead would be peaceful.

I washed my face calmly in cold water, then opened the heavy restroom door with the utility knife still in my hand.

Her followers jumped back in terror. Their minds filled with screams.

[Hansheng isn’t here yet! How did the heroine get out by herself?]

[Should we stop her? But she has a knife…]

[This is all wrong! The male lead was supposed to rescue her from the bullies.]

I walked through their baffled stares without looking back.

Wait for Song Hansheng to save me? By the time he arrived, they might already be serving food at my funeral.

A man’s protection was a fragile shell of paper. The lightest breeze could tear it apart. It was useless.

Romances built on strong men and weak women were, at heart, one enormous male-centered con—a trap wrapped in silk.

If a woman truly believed she was a helpless lamb, if she let herself become timid and craven, if she dreamed of rescue, clung to love, and hungered for approval, then no amount of talent or resources could save her from the difficulties of real life.

I needed no man’s salvation.