The van door slammed shut with a heavy thud, cutting off the chaos outside.
Li Sijue set Bai Chenxi down on the leather seat and reached for a dry towel and blanket, wrapping her firmly as though to shield her from every trace of danger. His movements weren't gentle—almost rough, in fact—but they carried an urgency that could not be faked.
"Thank you…" Chenxi's teeth chattered as she whispered the words.
He didn't answer. His jaw was tight, his expression severe. He only rubbed the towel against her dripping hair with almost punishing force, as if scrubbing away not just the water but the lingering fear itself.
"I'm fine now. Just… cold," Chenxi murmured, shifting uneasily. His nearness, his intensity—it sent her pulse into disarray.
Li Sijue froze. His dark gaze locked on her pale but still striking features. There was something in his eyes—something layered, something she couldn't decipher.
"Why didn't you use a stunt double?" His voice was low, edged with reproach.
"The scene relied heavily on facial expressions. I thought I should do it myself," she admitted. "Besides, the rig had been checked many times—"
"It was checked many times and it still failed!" He cut her off, anger lacing his tone. Whether that fury was directed at the accident itself or at her recklessness, she couldn't tell.
Silence followed, heavy and taut, broken only by the sound of her faint shivering and his sharp, uneven breaths.
Chenxi lifted her head, summoning every ounce of courage. She met his eyes directly, her voice steady though her heart thundered.
"Li Sijue—why are you investigating the Bojue Hotel? Room 1028? What happened that night, three years ago? And does it… does it have anything to do with you?"
Her gaze pierced into him, relentless, refusing to let him slip away without an answer.
For an instant, his composure cracked. His pupils contracted, the towel in his hand falling still. His stare was unreadable—a storm of hesitation, of conflict. Then, darkness.
"That night…" His voice came rough, frayed at the edges, as though dragged from a place he had long buried.
But before he could go further, a sharp knock rattled the van door.
"President Li! How's Chenxi? The doctor is here!" Director Zhang's anxious voice cut through the fragile moment.
The truth dissolved into silence.
Li Sijue's eyes held hers for a long, weighted second. Now is not the time, his look seemed to say.
He rose, his tall frame shadowing her for the briefest moment, then pulled the door open to admit the doctor.
The boundary to the truth had been within reach—yet once again, it slipped further into the haze.
The doctor's examination confirmed what Li Sijue had already seen: no serious injuries, only shock and exposure to cold.
Arrangements were swiftly made to escort Chenxi back to her hotel to rest.
Before she left, Li Sijue stood outside, framed by the night, his face carved with a rare gravity. His voice, low and steady, carried the weight of an unspoken vow.
"Until the matter is settled, I'll have people watching over you. As for that night… when the time comes, I will give you an answer."
An answer.
But what would that answer be?
And when, exactly, would that "time" arrive?