The guard was a man who lived by the blade, yet at the sight of Nie Zhao, he could not help but mutter, "God, this man is truly in a wretched state!"
Nie Zhao was 185cm tall, lying flat in the back of the vehicle, his frame lean and long. The chains on his arms were manageable—they hadn't bitten into his flesh—but piercing his collarbone was a steel chain the thickness of a finger, secured by a round padlock. One could shoot the lock, but the recoil would shatter his collarbone, so Chen Rou had specifically sought out someone skilled at picking locks.
Under the light, the guard examined the man closely. His delicate, refined features and broad, smooth forehead—even with his eyes closed—could not hide an air of nobility. The guard’s eyelids twitched involuntarily. As pirates, their gang terrorized three regions: Wandao, Macau, and Hong Kong. They were intimately familiar with these places, and as the wealthiest family in Hong Kong, the Nie Family was well-known to them. Though Nie Zhao had only recently returned to Hong Kong, he had been a constant presence in the newspapers, and the guard recognized him instantly.
Ghost-head Chang had offered a five-million-dollar bounty for his capture—a fortune an ordinary man could never earn in a lifetime. The guard was deeply tempted. Subconsciously, he reached for his pocket, where he kept a brick phone; if he could just use it to contact Ghost-head Chang, five million would be his, and he would never have to worry about money again.
Just as his fingers brushed the phone, Chen Rou, who had been sitting nearby drinking water, leaned over. "Big brother, I'm counting on you."
The guard raised his screwdriver. "No trouble at all. It’s my job." He added with a smile, "Miss, my ancestral home is in Wandao. We’re fellow countrymen, after all—we’re like family."
The vehicle sped forward. There were no pursuers yet, but there were only three roads out of the tunnel; Ghost-head Chang would surely have sent men to each of them. Being caught was only a matter of time, and Chen Rou needed to dress Nie Zhao’s wounds before that happened. She was being polite, but only just. Seeing the guard dallying, she leveled her gun at him. "If you don't start moving, I don't care if we are fellow countrymen—I will put a bullet in you!"
The guard had seen her blow a man’s brains out, so he shivered and poked the screwdriver into the keyhole. With a *click*, he carefully extracted the blood-soaked lock and held it up. "Done!"
Chen Rou signaled him to unlock Nie Zhao's wrists. She sterilized her hands with alcohol, wiped the chains thoroughly with iodine, and began the extraction. A chain through the collarbones was one of the ten great tortures of the Qing Dynasty. As the rusty chain was pulled out, it scraped against bone with a rhythmic, sickening *clack-clack* sound.
Nie Zhao barely seemed to breathe. He likely felt no pain, his expression remaining as calm as if he were merely asleep. However, Nie Han and Wandaozai, watching the long chain being pulled out bit by bit, could feel the phantom pain for him.
The guard finished unlocking the wrists with a clatter and smiled. "Fellow countryman, it’s all done."
Chen Rou finished pulling the blood-stained chain completely out and tapped the seat back. "Comrade Song Yuanchao, let this gentleman out of the car."
The car screeched to a halt. As the guard climbed out, he reached for his brick phone to call and report their location, but he couldn't find it. Just as he wondered where it had gone, he saw it lying on the ground, having been tossed there by Chen Rou. She fired, shattering it into eight pieces. She holstered her gun with a smile, and the vehicle sped away. The guard watched the armored car vanish into the darkness, kneeling on the road with his hands high above his head. He finally understood: that woman simply didn't like killing, otherwise he would have been dead already.
...
Life is sometimes incredibly fragile, yet at other times, remarkably resilient. During her service in the Jiaolong Special Forces and her time as a SWAT officer, Chen Rou had rescued many hostages and killed many ruthless criminals. She knew that people were easy to kill, yet also the hardest to kill. Some would perish from a single slap, while others could survive a gunshot to the brain; it was all a matter of probability, of fortune and misfortune.
Nie Zhao’s origins were unfortunate. As the youngest son of the wealthiest man, he should have been pampered by his parents. But his mother, Han Yuzhu, had been in poor health since his birth and eventually passed away. His father, Nie Rong, not only failed to pity his motherless son but blamed the boy for his wife's death, believing he should never have been born. Because he was unloved, Nie Zhao was sent overseas at a young age. It was only in recent years, as he built a thriving business empire in Europe, that Nie Rong’s opinion of him began to shift.
But in a way, he was lucky. In this lethal trap, he had fallen into a deep coma, sparing him the agony of having the chains pulled from his bones. His bindings were gone, but because he couldn't swallow, Chen Rou couldn't force-feed him antibiotics. She could only apply anti-inflammatory medicine externally and hope to find a doctor for further treatment. He lay there calmly; in his features, one could faintly glimpse the kindness and wisdom Chen Rou had seen when they first met in her past life. Yet he lacked the wrinkles and the age she remembered—he was young and handsome.
Nie Han couldn't help but imagine how stunned her uncle would be when he woke up to find his new wife was as beautiful as she was ruthless. She stroked his face incessantly. "Uncle, wake up, Uncle!"
Song Yuanchao, drawing from some unknown experience, said, "Little sister, you can't wake someone from a coma like this. We need to find a doctor to treat him and see if we can rouse him."
Nie Han replied anxiously, "Then let's hurry and find a hospital! My family is wealthy. If you help save him, I’ll give you money—millions won’t be an issue."
Wandaozai curled his lip. "Little sister, life is more important than money." He exchanged a glance with Song Yuanchao. Neither of them knew Nie Zhao, and compared to money, they naturally preferred to stay alive. They understood that without Chen Rou, they would have been dead already, so they both watched her, waiting to see if she would risk everything to save Nie Zhao or dump the "living dead" baggage and run.
Chen Rou answered decisively, "The risk of going to a hospital is too high. We’ll find a doctor and take them with us!"
The two men exchanged a look and silently gave her a thumbs-up. Kidnapping a doctor while on the run—brilliant!
Suddenly, a whistling sound cut through the air. The vehicle swerved violently. Chen Rou grabbed the steering wheel with lightning speed to prevent a rollover, but in the next second, a fire erupted ahead, blocking the road. Song Yuanchao slammed on the brakes, looked into the rearview mirror, and screamed, "Damn it! Two armored vehicles! They’re using rocket launchers—this is advanced American hardware that can automatically lock onto us!"
Chen Rou fought to control the swerving vehicle. "Wandaozai, open the sunroof and fire back!" She bellowed at Song Yuanchao, "Step on the gas! Go!"
"There’s a deep pit ahead, and it's on fire! We’ll explode if we fall in!" Song Yuanchao shouted.
Chen Rou’s voice drowned him out: "I said floor it! Keep your foot on the pedal!"
Wandaozai climbed through the sunroof, trembling, and saw the two armored cars in hot pursuit. He was terrified. It was Ghost-head Chang’s men, armed with the latest American weapons. He fired a few panicked shots and wailed, "We’re not going to make it out!"
Flames roared in the middle of the road, and in the center of the fire was the pit. On one side of the road was a cliff; on the other, a mountain wall. Turning left meant falling to their deaths, and turning right meant crashing into the hillside. Their tires had blown out; Chen Rou had to keep her gun aimed at the steering column to keep the car steady. "Song Yuanchao, hit the gas! Floor it!"
Though his heart was pounding, Song Yuanchao chose to trust Chen Rou’s skill. He floored the pedal. As the fiery pit loomed closer, he let out a primal roar and charged straight into the flames. At that moment, Chen Rou suddenly let go. The car, with its blown tires, veered sharply toward the hillside, but she grabbed the wheel with both hands, wrenching it straight. Song Yuanchao instinctively helped her pull it back.
The armored car, with its ruined tires, struck the slope and then hit the edge of the pit, drifting across the gap and speeding away. The entire car drifted; if Nie Han hadn't grabbed Wandaozai, he would have been thrown out of the sunroof. The unconscious Nie Zhao slammed into the car door with a dull thud.
Then, a miracle happened. The lead armored vehicle behind them couldn't brake in time; it plunged into the fiery pit and exploded. The second one followed, and with two deafening blasts, it too was consumed by flames. In the blink of an eye, both pursuers were destroyed.
Wandaozai watched it all happen, then let out a howl of triumph, slapping the car roof. "Go eat dung, Ghost-head Chang! Haha, they’re all dead! We’re safe! We’re safe!"
But their vehicle was finished. With the tires gone, the rubber had worn away until only the steel rims remained. The rims scraped against the asphalt, showering the road in sparks, and the steering became unresponsive. They had to abandon the car. In a secluded mountain bend, they climbed out. After clearing the vehicle of any evidence, Chen Rou had Song Yuanchao push it off the cliff.
Below, there was a faint glimmer of lights—a small town. Song Yuanchao carried Nie Zhao on his back, Wandaozai shouldered the rifles, and the group trekked down the mountain. Chen Rou planned to hijack a vehicle to continue their escape. As for the poor soul whose car they’d steal, she’d find a way to compensate them once she escaped; after all, her half-dead husband was the wealthiest man in Hong Kong.
But as the saying goes, life rarely follows a plan. Song Yuanchao, carrying Nie Zhao, suddenly stopped and pointed down the hill. "That looks like a hospital."
Wandaozai looked and frowned. "Why does that look like a ship to me?"
Nie Han, who had a thorn stuck in her foot, suppressed the searing pain and cried out joyfully, "It’s a ship *and* a hospital! My uncle is saved!"
The billionaire’s luck was truly miraculous. On the water below sat a ship with a Red Cross emblem, and beneath it, neon English letters flickered: "Floating Emergency Station – 24 Hours."
...
They say the distance to a mountain looks short but exhausts a horse. It took them a full half-hour to reach the ship. Song Yuanchao carried Nie Zhao aboard, grinning like a fool; a floating emergency ship—escaping on this thing would be fantastic. But Wandaozai touched the hull and looked troubled. It was a medium-sized vessel, and he had only ever driven yachts. He didn't know how to pilot this.
The ship was pitch black. Chen Rou circled the deck and found no one. Only one window, marked "Emergency Room" in English, had a green light glowing inside. It was her habit, whenever on a mission, to keep one hand resting on the holster at her waist. She had used her military-style blouse to wrap Nie Zhao’s wounds, so she was left wearing only a blood-stained knit sweater, torn down to her chest.
Coincidentally, she knocked on the window. A man in a white lab coat with glasses looked up, frowned at her, then looked back down. Chen Rou followed his gaze and saw a faxed photo on the table—it was of her. Beneath the photo was a line of English: "Reward: $500,000." Below that, another line: "WARNING: THIS WOMAN IS EXTREMELY DANGEROUS!!!"
On the Philippine coast, pirates were the residents, and the residents were all pirates. Since her photo had already reached this far, Chen Rou didn't bother with pretenses. She spoke in the local dialect. "Doctor, I need a consultation."
The doctor’s hand crept toward the telephone, his eyes darting wildly. He stuttered, "W-what kind of... illness?"
Chen Rou leveled her gun and smiled. "The kind where if you dare call Ghost-head Chang to tip him off, I’ll blow your head off!"