Zhou Jiao stifled a laugh. "How exactly did I seduce you?"
Despite her sharp and striking features—like a vivid white camellia—her smile was sweetly alluring. A few damp strands of hair clung to her cheek, giving the impression of someone flushed and breathless after a kiss.
Jiang Lian stared at her for several seconds before averting his gaze. "You once told me that leaving me had nothing to do with me, and everything to do with the laws of nature. You didn't want to be with a predator."
He paused, his voice cooling. "But just now, you tempted me to kiss you like a predator. You wanted me to make a mistake—so you could strip me of the right to pursue you. Isn't that it?"
Zhou Jiao could barely contain her laughter.
She hadn't meant it that way… although she had intended to tempt him.
Tilting her head slightly, she brushed her fingers across her lips, almost absentmindedly. "So? Would you have made that mistake?"
Jiang Lian's Adam's apple bobbed visibly. He stared at her fingers with a chilling, focused intensity—like a cold-blooded creature watching prey. His eyes held the hunger of something that never satisfied, never gave up the hunt.
But then, he turned away. His voice was flat, emotionless. "I told you—I won't fall for your tricks. Not unless you're certain our relationship isn't one of predator and prey. Otherwise, I won't… kiss you like that."
Zhou Jiao fell silent for a moment. Then she asked suddenly, "Why does it matter so much to you whether we're predator and prey? Jiang Lian… don't tell me you've actually fallen for me?"
Same question, different context.
The first time she asked, it had been a test—she wanted to see the "god" lose control, to watch him crumble beneath his own desire.
Now, she already knew the answer. And yet she asked again.
Why?
She didn't know.
Maybe she just wanted to ask.
And she was curious—curious to see how he'd answer. Would he dismiss her again, call it a delusion?
"No," Jiang Lian said without hesitation. "I love you."
Zhou Jiao's fingers curled slightly.
He turned to look at her.
Even as he admitted it, his eyes held no trace of humanity. That stark inhumanity sent a chill crawling down her spine… and stirred something else, something darker, deep inside.
"I know you're a fragile, inferior, and ephemeral creature," he said. "So small you're indistinguishable from dust, so limited you measure life in years, so weak you could die at any moment.
"From both a macro and micro perspective, love between us shouldn't be possible. You only have one brain—I have to suppress my ability to think in parallel just to communicate with you. Otherwise, you'd never keep up.
"So when I said I couldn't fall for you, it wasn't out of contempt. It was a rational conclusion.
"But…" His brow furrowed, genuinely puzzled. "I fell for you anyway."
Zhou Jiao's teeth chattered slightly. It felt like her body had instinctively shivered.
She realized that what had once made his gaze so terrifying was the overwhelming predatory energy he radiated—the raw, unrelenting desire to consume. It triggered a deep-seated, biological fear.
Humans aren't apex predators by nature—our teeth are blunt, our nails useless, our limbs unfit for the hunt. Alone, without tools, we are prey. And so, when faced with a predator, fear comes naturally.
That's why predatory animals are often cast as evil in stories. To teach us to fear what hunts us.
But Jiang Lian—this apex predator—wore human skin. And in that moment, there was nothing ugly about him. His gaze, so brutally direct and unclouded, had an almost unearthly purity.
Zhou Jiao didn't know if she should think too deeply about this.
She was getting to know Jiang Lian.
And getting to know someone… that's always the start of something dangerous.
Why is there always so much fighting online?
Because most people don't see others—they only see a viewpoint, a faceless avatar. That makes attacking easier.
But once you know someone—once they have a face, a voice, a complexity—you start to understand their choices. Their contradictions. Their weaknesses.
It's dangerous.
More dangerous than predator and prey, than powerful and powerless. More dangerous than god and mortal.
She was beginning to see him as human.
Zhou Jiao's smile faded.
She looked up at him, her eyes as cold as frost, like she was judging him.
Jiang Lian didn't meet her gaze.
He glanced at the towel in his hand, as if remembering he hadn't finished drying her hair. He stepped behind her and resumed.
Clearly, this wasn't something he did often. His movements were clumsy—some spots he rubbed too hard, others he barely touched. Zhou Jiao squeezed a few strands and water still dripped out.
She blinked, waiting for him to give up and toss the towel.
But he never did.
Instead, at the end—when it became clear the towel wouldn't work—she felt a strange, cold sensation on her scalp. Something unseen and fluid slid across her head, slithering into her hair, transforming into countless porous filaments. They pulsed and contracted, drinking in every last drop of moisture.
Zhou Jiao: "......"
She had to be out of her damn mind to think of him as her equal.
With a twitch of her lips, she snatched the towel from him and gave him a flat, forced smile. "Thanks for liking me, Dr. Jiang. But your sitting time is over. Please leave—and take your stuff from the living room before I hire someone to throw it out."
Jiang Lian paused. "Those were gifts."
"Well," she said, "gifts can be refused. And I don't want yours."
He went silent.
A few seconds later, the boxes in the living room began to dissolve—like they were melting under some corrosive acid. But the floor remained untouched.
He'd used his secretions—his highly corrosive biological slime.
He'd learned to restrain himself.
To hide.
The old Jiang Lian would never have concealed his appendages. Wherever he walked, they spread behind him, marking territory like a lion with scent glands.
Now, he was suppressing his instincts—for her.
Zhou Jiao's heart skipped a beat.
The danger was getting worse.
Worse—and more intoxicating.
Her back stiffened.
She remembered those people who loved taming wild beasts. How they'd show off by placing their hands between the predator's teeth, daring the animal to bite.
But no one could really know if the beast would bite.
To place your hand there—it was part trust, part gamble, mostly thrill.
And if she kept getting to know Jiang Lian, the thrill would only grow.
She wasn't scared of danger.
She was too excited.
Her scalp tingled. Her cheeks burned. Her heart wouldn't stop pounding.
She couldn't let Jiang Lian know.
He'd gotten a taste. That was enough for now.
When he still didn't move, she stood up and grabbed his wrist.
His gaze snapped to where she touched him, then slowly rose to meet hers.
For someone so terrifying—so alien—he looked strangely vulnerable.
She felt like she was using her complex, unpredictable humanity… to bully him.
"…" Zhou Jiao cursed under her breath, dragging him to the door. "Thank you for the umbrella. And the gifts. Goodbye, Dr. Jiang."
She pushed him out and slammed the heavy metal door shut.
Jiang Lian's eyes never left her—not even as the door closed.
He didn't seem to understand… why she had pushed him out.
Zhou Jiao remembered that puzzled expression—and chuckled.
She closed her eyes and let herself feel it: the excitement, the thrill, the twisted, giddy rush of power. Her heart was still racing. But it wasn't fear.
It was satisfaction. Conquest.
And this was only Day One.
Of course it was Jiang Lian.
Only he could make her feel alive again.
Life had finally become interesting.
She collapsed onto the sofa, lit a cigarette, and exhaled a thin stream of smoke into the neon-lit night.
She looked like a cat in utter contentment—lazy and dangerous.
·
The next day, Zhou Jiao left for work as usual.
She opened the door—and froze.
Jiang Lian was still there.
He'd stood outside all night. Same clothes. Same posture. His eyes instantly snapped to her like a serpent scenting prey—wrapped around her, holding her fast.
"…What are you doing here?" Zhou Jiao rubbed her temple. "You're the CEO of a biotech empire. Don't you have anything better to do?"
Jiang Lian paused. "Do you want to be the CEO of Biotech?"
Just then, the neighbor's door opened. A man in a suit rushed out with a briefcase, glanced at them, and kept glancing—his expression clearly thinking, how many delusions does it take to make this dream?
Zhou Jiao: "…"
She couldn't blame him. Even she felt like the whole thing was surreal. "Would you actually let me be the CEO?"
Jiang Lian replied, "No. You'd use it against me."
"…Of course I would," she muttered, pushing his shoulder. "Now move. I've got work."
He caught her wrist.
Even in love, his temperature hadn't changed.
His fingers were cold, slick, scaled—like a reptile, unsettling and alien. But the way he held her—pressing his thumb gently to her pulse—it wasn't to hurt her. It was to confirm she was real.
"Don't go. I have a question," he said, stepping closer, leaning in.
Zhou Jiao instinctively stepped back—and slammed into the wall behind her.
Her first thought was: My suit is definitely ruined. No one really knew what horrors lived on the walls of cheap apartment buildings. She could still see a line of bullet holes just by turning her head.
It was a filthy, absurd scene.
A flickering overhead light. Trash bags piled in the hall. Flies buzzing in the stagnant air.
And Jiang Lian—the unknowable horror, the CEO of Biotech—stood there in the grime, looking only at her.
"Divine" and "disgusting" didn't belong in the same frame, yet the contradiction sent electric jolts through her skull, nerves twitching with adrenaline.
Zhou Jiao's breathing quickened.
She forced calm into her voice. "What is it you want to ask?"
Jiang Lian didn't even notice the setting. He saw only her.
He remembered brushing her hair dry—how she'd looked like she was enjoying it.
So he reached out, cradled the back of her head.
His hand stretched—inhumanly, elastically—until it enveloped her skull.
Tiny, metallic filaments unfurled from his palm, stroking through her hair.
Zhou Jiao jolted like she'd been electrocuted. She grabbed his hand and yanked it off. "What do you want to ask?!"
Jiang Lian glanced at his elongated hand, perplexed, but didn't dwell on it.
"I want to know why," he said coldly, "you didn't ask for my consent when you kissed me yesterday."
His gaze sharpened, voice dark and frigid.
"Mutual respect is the foundation of any relationship. I want to date you—so I ask. But you didn't."
He leaned closer, breath ghosting past her ear.
"You didn't ask… because you don't want to date me. You don't respect me. Right?"
It was getting more and more absurd.
Jiang Lian was questioning her—asking why she didn't respect him.
Zhou Jiao had been diagnosed with antisocial personality disorder when she was twelve.
Back then, she was attending a school sponsored by a biotech company. A boy in her class had called her a freak in front of everyone—because during a frog dissection experiment, she had looked completely calm, efficient, and showed no aversion to the cold, slimy texture of the amphibian.
Then, one day while the class was heading downstairs for morning exercise, she suddenly reached out and pushed that same boy. He tumbled from the third floor to the first, broke his leg, and had to stay in the biotech company's medical pod for a week.
But that wasn't the problem.
The problem was—it happened two months after the incident.
The psychiatrist asked her, "Why didn't you push him at the time?"
Zhou Jiao replied, "I wasn't angry then. Why would I push him?"
The psychiatrist pressed, "Then why push him two months later?"
Zhou Jiao said, "Because two months later, I was very angry."
That's the world of someone with antisocial personality disorder—no morality, no shame, no planning, just impulsive actions and disregard for consequences.
Zhou Jiao didn't resent Jiang Lian for nearly killing her several times. If their roles had been reversed, she would've done the same—and wouldn't have held back.
But not resenting him didn't mean she wouldn't use it against him.
Zhou Jiao smiled and pushed him away. "Dr. Jiang, do you really think you have the right to talk to me about respect?"
Jiang Lian tilted his head slightly, trying to catch her gaze. He analyzed, but didn't understand.
He couldn't read the look in her eyes.
Ever since he had fallen for her, since he had decided to pursue her—their roles had completely flipped.
She had become the one he could no longer comprehend.
Zhou Jiao grabbed his hand.
His hand—mutated, enlarged—looked monstrous and completely mismatched with hers.
Jiang Lian paused, and the hand shrank back to its normal shape.
Zhou Jiao placed his hand gently on her throat.
Jiang Lian's fingers trembled slightly.
Her skin was warm and soft. The pulse at her neck beat steadily. It was such a subtle sensation—but to him, it felt strange and unbearably heavy.
She was so small.
Before, when he realized this, he felt indifference, disdain, rejection.
But now—it terrified him.
She was so small, he had to keep watching her, every moment.
Otherwise, she'd vanish into the universe without a trace.
You can always hold on to something your hand can grasp.
But you can't hold a grain of sand, an ant, or a dandelion seed.
Her smallness made him feel utterly out of control.
Zhou Jiao placed her hand over his, guiding his fingers to tighten around her throat.
"Remember this?" she asked softly. "Two months ago, you held my throat just like this. Maybe you don't remember, but I do… It hurt. Jiang Lian, it really hurt. I'm someone who's afraid of pain. But I didn't dare show it… Because if I showed weakness, I would've died."
A lie.
She wasn't afraid of pain.
…But his heart still clenched painfully at her words.
"I told you before, right? Before I met you, I lived a normal, happy life—like most people. But after meeting you, I've been through nothing but near-death experiences."
A lie.
"You thought I jumped off the rooftop willingly? No—I only jumped because you were chasing me. If you hadn't, I never would've done something so extreme."
Another lie.
But his chest still ached, more and more.
"Same goes for when you locked me up. If you hadn't done that, I never would've risked everything and used the chip to put myself into a deep coma. Jiang Lian, do you know there's a chance of becoming a vegetable when you do that?"
That was the truth.
And it was the one thing he least wanted to remember.
Until then, he had never felt helpless.
But that time—he did.
He was powerful enough to kill her without effort—but powerless to wake her up.
His fingers shook violently.
So many times, his hand had clamped around her throat like steel, making her neck bones crack hideously. But now, his fingers trembled—as if sharing her pain.
Zhou Jiao gently patted the back of his hand, soothing him, then smiled and threw out her final question:
"Jiang Lian—do you still think you have the right to talk to me about respect?"
She wasn't a good actress—or rather, she couldn't be bothered to act.
He could easily tell which of her words were true and which were lies.
And yet, even the most blatant lies made him feel like he was drowning—in panic and pain.
It was unnatural.
As a creature that dwelled in the hadal depths of the abyss, he was never meant to know what drowning felt like.
And yet, she had made him feel it—twice.
Zhou Jiao let go.
Jiang Lian's hand slid off her neck.
He had always been the dominant predator in front of her—cold, greedy, decisive. Once he had his prey, he never let go.
He had no need to restrain his desires—never wanted to.
When he craved her saliva, he sucked on her tongue until it ached.
When he wanted to rid himself of her scent and break free from her hold, he tightened his fingers around her throat as he pleased.
But now, he couldn't even keep his hand on her neck.
The apex predator not only allowed a leash around his neck—but felt guilty for his brutal hunts.
Yes. Guilt.
He had learned guilt.
"…I'm sorry," Jiang Lian said.
He may have truly felt guilty, because he forgot to use a human voice.
Instinctively, he emitted a low-frequency sound—bizarre, eerie, enough to make one's insides twist.
The frequency rippled outward, affecting the minds of everyone nearby.
Suddenly, she was surrounded by voices—hundreds of them, saying "I'm sorry," in all different tones, overlapping and echoing like a maddening chorus.
A "god" had bowed his head to her.
And now, everyone else bowed as well.
The chorus of apologies became a haunting, powerful tide.
Any ordinary person would've been terrified by such an unnatural scene.
But Zhou Jiao's pupils dilated—she was so thrilled, so overwhelmed, she was dizzy with it.
She placed a hand to her forehead.
She couldn't let Jiang Lian see it.
Couldn't let him know he was the only one who could stir every one of her emotions.
She took a deep breath and rasped, "…It's not enough."
Humans are complex, greedy, driven by conquest.
This level of apology—was far from enough.
She wanted more.
Once the overwhelming feeling passed, Zhou Jiao lifted her head, eyes faintly red at the corners—just enough to look like she'd been overwhelmed by grief.
Jiang Lian felt that same unbearable pain crush his chest again.
"What… what should I do to make it up to you?" he asked.
He was consumed by regret, guilt, and panic—but had no idea how to fix it.
He could only look at her.
She was the source of every emotion he had—the human who made him drown.
Zhou Jiao tilted her head up and kissed him lightly on the lips.
His lips were cold. Hers were warm.
The moment they met—hot and cold—his face didn't change, but the fluorescent lights above them flickered violently, like they'd been disturbed by some magnetic force.
"Jiang Lian," she said softly. "That's for you to figure out."