Qiu Yu sat curled up in the passenger seat, music blasting at full volume.
She had kicked off her heels, hugging her knees to her chest, head tilted back, eyes fixed on the roof of the car.
With a soft mechanical click, the panoramic roof opened. The surrounding cityscape came into view. Rain was falling harder now, a steady, silvery cascade.
Through the dense mist, the outlines of countless neon signs flickered and overlapped, forming a blurred ribbon of wet, broken color.
Qiu Yu stared at the raindrops splattering against the glass above her, a deep loneliness pressing down on her chest—too heavy to put into words.
Since graduation, most of her friends had slowly drifted away. Only Pei Xi had stayed in touch, messaging now and then, asking her out for meals.
She had always thought it was because of the years of friendship they shared.
Now, looking back, she realized it was likely something else.
He couldn't stand it—that his former fiancée had married someone from the slums. That feeling of humiliation, of having something precious taken from him by someone beneath him, must have eaten away at him.
That was why he kept testing Chen Ce Bai's limits, again and again.
He didn't want her.
He wanted the symbol she had become.
She was a trophy—nothing more.
She was never Pei Xi's friend.
Qiu Yu's nose stung. She tried hard not to cry, remembering the makeup on her face. But the tears came anyway, warm and silent.
Pei Xi had torn away the veil she'd clung to, forcing her to confront a truth she hadn't wanted to see:
Maybe… she had never really had any true friends.
Except for Chen Ce Bai, everyone looked at her and saw only her family, her background, her invisible currency.
What passed for friendship was just a negotiation of value.
And the moment the scale tipped, she would be cast aside without hesitation.
The car door opened.
Rain sliced through the opening like a blade of mist, and Chen Ce Bai climbed in, soaked in the scent of the storm.
Qiu Yu quickly blinked away her tears and lowered her head, fumbling for a cotton tissue pack, then held it out to him.
Chen Ce Bai took a couple of sheets, drying his dripping hair. He pulled off his wet glasses and set them aside.
Qiu Yu, glancing at her wristband, checked the pH of the rain—non-acidic. Relief flooded her.
"You should've called me," she said gently. "I could've come with an umbrella. It's just a few steps."
Chen Ce Bai shrugged off his damp coat and tossed it into the backseat.
"I didn't want you to see him again."
Qiu Yu paused, surprised.
She thought he was worried she'd be upset by Pei Xi.
"It wasn't that painful," she said. "More than anything, I was just… shocked. That he never saw me as a friend."
Chen Ce Bai glanced at her and said calmly,
"Is that so. Too bad I didn't think that far. I didn't want you to see him again purely because I was jealous."
"…Oh." Qiu Yu blinked.
Chen Ce Bai dried his hands and, without warning, reached out, gently gripping her chin.
He leaned in and kissed her, firm and urgent.
His touch and tone were both laced with a frustrated intensity.
"Any time I see you standing next to someone else—anyone—I feel jealous," he muttered.
Qiu Yu flushed to the tips of her ears.
Even though she knew how shameless he could be, how direct and unfiltered when it came to his emotions, she still couldn't help feeling shy.
A moment later, he tilted her face upward again.
Chen Ce Bai's eyes locked onto hers. His thumb brushed the corner of her eye.
His voice was unreadable.
"You were crying… was it because of him?"
Outside, the rain thundered down.
Even with the panoramic roof open, the car's interior remained dim.
So Qiu Yu didn't notice the shadow cast by Chen Ce Bai—how it quivered and swelled across the cabin walls, morphing into tendrils of black liquid metal, silent and gleaming.
They stretched outward, almost imperceptibly, as if waiting.
Waiting for her to nod.
Waiting for the signal to wrap around her—not lovingly, but as punishment.
But Qiu Yu suddenly wrapped her arms around him.
Chen Ce Bai froze—something that almost never happened.
The black metal halted its growth.
"…Not entirely because of him," she murmured, voice muffled against his chest.
"Mostly… it's because I just realized I might've never had a real friend at all."
Chen Ce Bai stood still for a few seconds, then slowly, gently, returned the embrace.
Qiu Yu closed her eyes.
"I've known Pei Xi for so long. I thought he'd at least have some idea of who I really am.
I'm not someone who just does whatever people tell me.
I just… I don't like disappointing my family or friends. I hate letting people down."
Chen Ce Bai said, "You can't please everyone."
Qiu Yu looked up at him, eyes glistening.
"But if I don't please them… how will they like me? How will they accept me? I need their approval. I need them to care."
It was the first time he'd seen her like this.
She was used to being playful, even bratty, but never weak.
He remembered the time a group of thugs had followed her. His tracking system picked up the alert, and he rushed over—only to find the men sprawled on the pavement, groaning in pain.
She had been confused to see him there.
Back then, their marriage had been a cooperation—no interference in each other's lives.
He never told her about the tracking chip he had installed in her system, the one that triggered when she was in danger. He simply said:
"I was passing by."
She hadn't doubted it, just smiled and tugged him over to help assess the thugs' injuries, curious whether any qualified as legally "serious harm."
She had always been resilient and optimistic.
But now, here she was, exposing the softest part of herself.
What she didn't realize was that this would not inspire sympathy from Chen Ce Bai.
It would awaken something far more dangerous.
His expression remained cool and distant, but the arm wrapped around her began to change.
Bit by bit, it was coated in a cold sheen of liquid metal.
Tiny barbs emerged—dense, sharp, deadly—pressing lightly against her back.
It was a caress, but it could turn into a trap at any moment.
If she needed affection, approval, admiration—he could give her all of it.
She didn't need anyone else.
The very idea that she might seek love or validation elsewhere made him… furious.
He wanted to punish her.
To make her understand exactly whose she was.
For just a moment, he felt like two people.
One was the Chen Ce Bai he had always been.
The other was something darker, colder, terrifying.
He had always known that one day he would lose control.
He just didn't expect that day to come so soon.
Things he could once endure without blinking… now, just the sight of them filled him with seething rage.
Earlier today, in the lab, when Chen Ce Bai saw Qiu Yu standing next to Pei Xi, his first instinct was simple—kill him.
He could've hijacked any drone near her, rewritten its base code, and triggered a targeted infrasound attack. Within seconds, Pei Xi's blood vessels would rupture and he'd die.
Or, he could've infiltrated the company's AI system and implanted a subliminal assassination directive into the subconscious of any employee.
He could've even taken over a passing vehicle and directed it to crash into Pei Xi.
But the image of her grieving stopped him. He held back the murderous rage, settling for the least violent option.
And yet—he still made her cry.
Chen Ce Bai had never once felt ashamed of his genetics. Only fools loathe their own design. He had always accepted the consequences of genetic modification, even the increasing aggression.
What he didn't expect was how disgusting those changes would feel when they were all centered on one person—Qiu Yu.
Ever since he imagined her crying for him, for what he was, he hadn't been able to stop.
He kept wondering: if she found out what he truly was, would she pity him? Or be repulsed?
Would she feel fear at his grotesque mutations?
Would she turn away in horror?
Or worse—would she suppress her terror, pretend everything was okay, and try to comfort him?
And if it was the latter… what would she say? What would her voice sound like when she lied?
Chen Ce Bai looked down at her. His own breathing was rough and uneven.
Just the fantasy was enough to drive him insane.
Some of the thoughts running through his head—even he found them sick and deranged.
How long could he keep control?
His embrace, as always, was cold. But in his arms, Qiu Yu slowly calmed down.
She sniffled and reached for a tissue, but Chen Ce Bai suddenly gripped her wrist.
Another triggered reaction—like a snapped wire.
Qiu Yu blinked in surprise, then leaned in and gently kissed the back of his hand.
Chen Ce Bai stared at her, then slowly released her wrist. He pulled a tissue and handed it to her.
Qiu Yu gave him a sweet smile. "Thank you."
She had wanted to say something more—that out of all the people whose affection she craved, his was the only one that truly mattered.
That whenever he held her tight, kissed her hard, or clutched her hand with that fierce grip, she felt a sense of safety she couldn't describe.
His love gave her more comfort than anyone else's approval ever could.
But the words sounded too sentimental, so she kept them in.
When she glanced at the console clock and saw she had only thirty minutes left until her interview, she nudged him lightly, urging him to drive.
Chen Ce Bai didn't move. He just stared at her.
Qiu Yu looked back, confused.
At some point, the panoramic roof had darkened again, and his expression had slipped into shadow.
"What is it?" she asked.
He didn't answer. Instead, he tilted her chin up and kissed her—fierce, stormy, and all-consuming.
His tongue claimed hers mercilessly. His thumb pressed against her cheek. Every time she tried to pull back, or close her mouth, he pinched her lightly in warning.
This wasn't the composed and rational Chen Ce Bai.
This was a man on the edge of losing himself.
Qiu Yu's eyes widened. Her lashes fluttered as heat rushed from her scalp to her fingertips, leaving her breathless.
She didn't know how long the kiss lasted—only that by the time he let her go, every inch of her mouth had been invaded.
His voice was low and icy near her ear:
"You weren't really listening to me."
Qiu Yu blinked, dazed. "...What?"
"I told you," he said, "I get jealous just seeing you stand next to someone else.
So why did you think it'd be fine to cry over Pei Xi?
Why would you tell me you need other people's affection and expect me not to be jealous?"
It was a confession, sharp and venomous, cloaked in casual honesty.
Qiu Yu, already flustered by his blunt words, was now completely overwhelmed.
After several seconds, she finally managed a soft protest:
"But… I need your love too.
More than anyone else's.
I just didn't have the nerve to say it out loud…"
Chen Ce Bai picked up his glasses and cleaned the lenses slowly.
"I want you to only need me," he said. "Whether it's love, or anything else."
It was a possessive and unreasonable demand.
But Qiu Yu didn't hear the menace beneath his tone. She took it as a declaration of love and answered without hesitation:
"Okay."
Chen Ce Bai put his glasses back on and started the engine.
From the corner of his eye, he glanced at her delicate, obedient expression—so soft, so willing.
A strange, electric thrill ran through him.
She spoiled him.
She indulged him.
That was part of the problem.
If one day she realized what kind of monster she had created with her affection—
Would she regret it?