Qiu Yu froze, caught off guard by Chen Ce Bai's direct rejection.
In an instant, it felt like their relationship had regressed to the distant, ambiguous phase. Yesterday's confession and this morning's intimacy suddenly felt like a hallucination.
She had never truly gotten close to him.
And he had never really allowed her to.
Qiu Yu fell silent.
She was only good at being straightforward when Chen Ce Bai was willing to play along. When he refused to cooperate, she had no idea what to do.
But even if he were willing to tell her everything now, she didn't want to hear it anymore.
She pulled out her tablet and started scrolling short videos with a sulky expression.
After watching two clips, she remembered that Chen Ce Bai never watched these, never got "addicted" to them like others did, and it annoyed her enough to shut the app.
Just then, Qiu Yu received a message from her boss—the interview schedule had finally been confirmed. She would begin filming with the first scientist tomorrow.
Qiu Yu: [Who?]
Boss: [Lu Ze Hou.]
The car pulled into the garage.
Qiu Yu closed her tablet and was about to open the door when she paused, still fuming.
She turned around and glared at Chen Ce Bai. "So only you get to have secrets?"
Chen Ce Bai paused, then turned to look at her.
Qiu Yu bluffed, "I have secrets too. And until you come clean with me, I'm not telling you anything."
In truth, she had no secrets—nothing, really, except the "I love you" she hadn't yet said out loud.
She had it all planned: if Chen Ce Bai apologized and finally told her about his past, she'd forgive him on the spot and reward him with a sweet, heartfelt I love you.
But Chen Ce Bai only replied coldly, "Suit yourself."
Qiu Yu was stunned. Then her anger flared even hotter.
She wanted to curse him out, but couldn't come up with anything that wouldn't cross a line or hurt his dignity.
In the end, the words she wanted to hurl never came, and she was left seething and breathless from the frustration.
Like an angry cat, Qiu Yu slammed the door and stormed out.
Back inside, she locked herself in the study and threw herself into preparing the interview outline, completely ignoring Chen Ce Bai.
Just like that, everything returned to how it was before they'd opened up to each other.
She buried herself in her notes; Chen Ce Bai worked remotely from the guest room, guiding experiments with the research team.
The soundproofing in the house was too good—once the doors were shut, they may as well have been in separate worlds.
Qiu Yu tried to focus on her writing but couldn't.
What bothered her most was—the watcher was still there.
The gaze was cold, unreadable, locked on her for far too long.
What's so interesting about a couple fighting?
Qiu Yu paused, picked up her tablet, opened a blank document, and scrawled with her stylus: I know you're watching me.
She thought for a moment and added:
Maybe you think you're hiding well. But some habits are hard to change.
She had no idea who the watcher really was, no clues about "his" identity. The note was pure bluff, a ploy to lure him out.
After reading it, she sighed, decided it was all a waste of time, and deleted the document, going back to work.
But then—
She received a message.
It wasn't spam. It wasn't from any known number.
Sender: Unknown. Address: Unknown. Even the carrier was listed as "Unknown."
It was as if the message had appeared directly inside her neural chip.
[Unknown]: What habit?
Qiu Yu stared at the message, her breathing growing shallow.
Logically, she should have told Chen Ce Bai—asked him to trace the sender and track the signal. But she thought about all the heartless things he'd said to her today—
"I don't need your help playing games."
"There's nothing worth saying."
"I don't like it when you bring up the past."
"Suit yourself."
Four rejections. In one day.
Her lips pressed into a thin line.
She decided not to tell him.
Qiu Yu: You know exactly what.
[Unknown]: You're bluffing.
Qiu Yu rolled her eyes and typed while distractedly outlining her notes:
Think whatever you want.
A pause. Then came another reply:
[Unknown]: You're upset because your husband won't tell you his secrets, aren't you?
Qiu Yu: What does that have to do with you?
[Unknown]: Have you ever wondered why he won't tell you?
She froze.
—
At that moment, in the living room:
Chen Ce Bai sat on the sofa, the lenses of his glasses flashing faint, metallic silver.
The conversation between "[Unknown]" and Qiu Yu was projected directly into his retinal display.
He had rejected her coldly—four times.
Now he was pretending to be the watcher, testing her reactions.
Even he knew how absurd this was.
But he was desperate—insanely desperate—to know what she really thought of him.
Almost like he was possessed, he messaged her again.
He picked up a cigarette, stepped out onto the balcony, and lit it.
Outside, neon lights flickered to life in red and blue.
The shifting colors painted his angular features with eerie, dissonant light—
As though what reflected on his face wasn't neon at all, but something colder, darker, fragmented—
The twisted contradiction of his own mind.
Then Qiu Yu responded: What do you mean?
Chen Ce Bai exhaled a stream of smoke.
His reply, typed out through the alias, read:
"It means… maybe he's like me. Maybe he has thoughts about you that he can't let anyone see."
—
In the study, Qiu Yu shot up from her chair.
Only after standing did she realize she'd overreacted. Embarrassed, she sat back down, cheeks flushed, and typed again:
What do you mean?
She found it laughable.
Of course the watcher had impure thoughts—he was watching her without permission.
But Chen Ce Bai? Why would he have thoughts that couldn't see the light of day?
Unless…
Was the watcher implying that Chen Ce Bai, too, was secretly watching her?
But no response came.
Even so, Qiu Yu could still feel the gaze.
"He" refused to speak, but never looked away.
Qiu Yu, annoyed, tried to provoke him again:
Don't project your disgusting fantasies onto my husband. I know him better than anyone. He's the only person I've ever seen who climbed the ranks purely by his own merit—without help, without shortcuts. Do you know how many people failed trying to fix the neural chip side effects? He did it in two years, and created a working inhibitor. He's the most valuable scientist alive. You don't even deserve to be compared to him.
She hit send, then added one last line:
You're not even qualified to speak his name.
She expected the watcher to lash out.
But nothing came.
Even after she finished her notes, showered, and lay down in bed—still nothing.
Qiu Yu was puzzled.
She'd thought that whole "Maybe your husband is like me" speech was just bait, trying to tarnish her view of Chen Ce Bai.
So she'd played along—praised him to the skies.
And yet, silence.
Even more frustrating: it was already late, and Chen Ce Bai still hadn't come to make peace.
Fuming, she yanked the blanket over herself.
She was going to wait for him to come in—
Then she'd give him a proper scolding.
But she was too tired. She fell asleep waiting.
—
In the middle of the night, she was kissed awake by Chen Ce Bai.
Eyes still bleary, she saw only a shadowy silhouette—a hunter's back, prowling through darkness.
He had both her wrists pinned above her head, his fingers curled around her jaw, lips demanding and cold as they tangled with hers.
Qiu Yu responded instinctively, dazed and yielding, until ten seconds later—
She suddenly snapped awake and turned her head away. "I'm still mad at you!"
"I know," Chen Ce Bai murmured, "I'm sorry."
In the darkness, she saw his throat move as he spoke—
A sharp, sensual line from his jaw to his collarbone.
She almost leaned in to kiss it.
Then forced herself to take a deep breath and resist.
"I don't get it," she whispered. "Why won't you tell me about your past…? Don't you trust me?"
"Maybe," he said quietly, "it's like 'he' said. Maybe I do have thoughts about you I can't let anyone see."
"Don't listen to 'him,'" Qiu Yu snapped. Then frowned. "Wait—you read my messages?!"
Before she could say more, she felt a chill against her neck.
Chen Ce Bai had leaned down, face close to her skin.
Her breath caught.
Her fingers curled in his hair, grasping the short, bristled strands.
His high-bridged nose brushed against her throat, inhaling gently.
Every breath he exhaled sent an icy shiver down her spine.
Qiu Yu's heart was pounding wildly.
She froze for a moment, like prey caught under a predator's gaze.
She didn't know how long passed before Chen Ce Bai lowered his head and bit lightly at her neck.
His canines barely grazed her skin, but she felt it—sharp, deliberate.
A jolt like static shot down her spine.
Still, she forced out a defiant, "That's it?"
Chen Ce Bai removed his glasses and set them aside, then pinned her wrists.
In the dim bedroom, the only sounds were the nearly inaudible hum of the central air conditioning and the distant, blurred voice of a holographic advertisement filtering in from outside the window.
It wasn't truly silent, yet to Qiu Yu, the sound of the belt buckle coming undone thundered in her ears.
Even deep into the night, she couldn't quite understand what it was that Chen Ce Bai found so shameful.
Because truth be told, her own thoughts were even more unspeakable.
Chen Ce Bai hardly made a sound. With his steady breath and heartbeat, he seemed almost indifferent throughout the entire process.
Qiu Yu hated that feeling.
She couldn't stand the calm.
Even if it meant her own breathing falling apart, she wanted to force him to speak—
Because if his voice faltered like hers, she'd feel a twisted, unexplainable satisfaction.
She suspected there was something wrong with her.
Because she liked Chen Ce Bai's aggression.
The more aggressive he was—
The more decisively he gripped her jaw, the more completely he claimed her mouth—
The more excited she became.
The world was chaos. Turbulent. Brutal.
And the fiercer his love, the heavier his desire—
The more safe and grounded she felt.
Like a drifting ship finally throwing down its anchor in the middle of a raging sea.
His body was cold, and yet by the end, Qiu Yu was drenched in sweat, like she'd been dragging herself through a fevered swamp all night.
She murmured, "You really still don't trust me? Even now, you won't tell me?"
Chen Ce Bai paused.
There was the rustle of movement. He seemed to have gone to the bathroom.
Moments later, he returned with a basin of hot water and began gently wiping the sweat from her forehead, neck, and back.
He did it silently, like a doctor tending a feverish patient.
Then, suddenly, he spoke:
"I liked you a long time ago."
Qiu Yu blinked, startled.
"Do you know why I never told you?"
She shook her head, then realized he probably couldn't see that in the dark. She opened her mouth to answer, but he spoke again, as if he had seen her gesture:
"My background was too low."
"But—"
"I'm not ashamed of where I came from," Chen Ce Bai said calmly. "I just didn't have any reason to believe you would choose someone like me. Back then, you had so many better options.
"But now, Qiu Yu, you have to admit—there's no one better for you than me."
It was the first time he called her by her nickname—not the usual "Xiao Qiu" or "Xiao Yu" others used, but a close, personal repetition of her name: Yu Yu.
Spoken in that cold, low voice of his, it made her heart skip a beat.
"I grew up in a garbage mountain," he said. "It used to be a recycling plant, but eventually there was so much waste it just became permanent. Uncleanable. A landfill the size of a city."
Chen Ce Bai moved on to wiping her feet.
"Ever since I could remember, I was moving—from one side of the dump to the other. The fermented trash produced methane, which could explode at any moment. After I learned to walk, my only daily job was to check for fire hazards nearby."
"Years later, after some media manipulation, treasure hunters came to the dump. They believed the propaganda that said there were valuable silicon chips from the 2020s buried in the trash. During that time, I was forced to learn how to use a gun."
He said it so lightly, but Qiu Yu couldn't ignore the danger behind those words.
Ever since he could remember... after he could walk... and then a few years later...
When exactly did he learn to use a gun?
Certainly not past the age of seven.
She couldn't help but recall what she had been doing at seven.
She was traveling, riding horses, visiting biotech breeding centers, touching beasts that most people would never see in their lives, learning to play piano, attending concerts, being coached by professional masters.
Her parents encouraged her to learn about investments. Even though she had no grasp of the market, they told her to trust her instincts and pick stocks herself.
On her seventh birthday, they held an extravagant party.
Even though she was still a child, her tall frame, perfect nutrition, and ideal genes made her look like a young debutante in a tailored dress.
Guests whispered about how precocious she was.
And where was Chen Ce Bai then?
Qiu Yu asked softly, "What happened after that?"
"Biotech found me."
"How?"
"My mother believed deeply in the power of education," Chen Ce Bai said quietly. "She also believed rich philanthropists loved to sponsor smart, poor kids. So she made me do the logic puzzles printed on the last page of the newspaper every day and mail them in."
By luck—or misfortune—he answered one set correctly.
Biotech took notice.
His mother, thrilled to hear he had been selected for special training and promised a compensation fund, grabbed the money and shoved him into the company's hands without hesitation.
He didn't blame her.
She had lived her whole life in that hell of methane, rot, and danger.
It made sense she couldn't see the company's true face.
Chen Ce Bai never told Qiu Yu about the gene modifications. He only said he spent seven years in "closed training."
Eventually, he emerged as one of the top students from over a thousand candidates.
He was finally allowed to visit his mother.
But when he returned to the garbage mountain—still burning, still toxic—he was told she had died.
It turned out she had never spent the "compensation."
She was mugged before she even got home.
Shot in the foot.
It wasn't a fatal wound, but in a place like that, it might as well have been.
She tried to call the company for help, but the number had already been disconnected.
She died of infection in a shack buried deep in the dump.
Five years ago, her body was reduced to ash in a fire.
Nothing left.
Qiu Yu was silent for a long time.
She didn't know what to say. The class divide between them was so vast, anything she said would feel hollow.
So she simply tilted her head and brushed his hand gently with hers.
In the darkness, she felt Chen Ce Bai watching her intently.
Outside, through the thin curtains, neon lights in green, blue, and purple spilled in from holograms overhead.
The bedroom felt even colder.
"Yu Yu, I'm not someone who lacks confidence," he said slowly. "Even without those seven years of training, I believe I still would have developed the neural inhibitor.
"The only thing that ever made me feel inferior… was you."
And yet, his gaze was cool and domineering, laced with a dangerous possessiveness.
As if even in his self-doubt, he still had the power to control her completely.
"I'm not as good as you think I am," he said, voice unnervingly calm. Maybe it was the metallic timbre, but there was something just a little unhinged underneath it.
"Sometimes, I want you to watch…
to see exactly how that disgusting version of me would fuck you—
until you fall apart."
The bedroom remained in total darkness.
So Qiu Yu couldn't see that from every corner, a horrifying, sticky substance was writhing, multiplying, swelling—
until it had filled the entire room.
Like a spider weaving its lair, coating every surface with layer upon layer of glistening webbing.
And if she so much as flinched—
If she even thought about resisting—
that web would tighten instantly, binding her inescapably from head to toe.