He Jianxi often reflected on his own philosophy of life. Over the years, he felt he had lived up to both heaven and earth. Although the world was filled with disappointments and injustices, the small realm in his heart had never been invaded or shaken. Moreover, his greatest confidence throughout this journey was that he had never encountered a villain who could do anything worse than he had anticipated. Therefore, this world could not scare him.

However, this confidence was finally shattered at this moment. Ever since he met Zhang Haiyan, a series of illogical events unfolded, none of which he had foreseen. The developments became increasingly absurd, and he no longer knew what he would see when he opened his eyes next.

The overwhelming feelings of grievance and fear caused He Jianxi to cry, not in loud sobs, but in a low, terrified whimper.

Zhang Haiyan was also exhausted, collapsing into the bathtub. After a moment, he slowly stood up and turned on the hot water, the sound of the water masking He Jianxi’s sobs. He stepped out, grabbed a clean towel from the side, and dried himself off.

Steven’s dinner remained untouched by the sofa—red beet soup and bread. Zhang Haiyan dipped the bread into the soup and took a few bites. After some thought, he finished the entire bowl of soup, leaving only two pieces of bread for He Jianxi. After a moment’s consideration, he ate another piece, leaving just one.

Next, he dragged Steven out of the bathtub, tore off his towel, tied him to a chair, and stuffed a cloth in his mouth. While an ordinary person might be able to spit out the cloth, Zhang Haiyan was very experienced; he pressed the cloth firmly against Steven’s throat and tongue, then used the towel to bind it tightly, so Steven could only make a sound like a mosquito.

He Jianxi silently watched all of this, and as the water was about to overflow, he turned off the faucet and remained seated in a daze.

Zhang Haiyan walked over, tossed Steven’s pants to He Jianxi, and then moved to the edge of the window against the wall. Outside was pitch black, and nothing could be seen. The group of assassins would definitely not dare to come to first class, and at this moment, they should have already realized that their trap had been thrown into the sea and were likely in chaos.

Zhang Haiyan closed the window, turned off the lights, tied the lamp’s cord around the window handle, and propped a chair against the door.

He Jianxi had just put on his pants when he saw the towel. Silently, he took off his shirt, wrung it out, and set it aside. He used the towel to dry his body, but Zhang Haiyan suddenly pinched the back of his neck, knocking him out instantly. Zhang Haiyan caught him and tossed him onto the bed, then wrapped himself in a bathrobe and lay down.

The spring mattress—oh my goodness! Zhang Haiyan listened to the sound of the waves and thought that the previous day and night felt like a dream. It was only at this moment that things were as they were supposed to be.

Zhang Haiyan, oh Zhang Haiyan, rescuing you is truly hard work.

He slowly drifted into sleep, and in his dreams, he returned to his childhood in Xiamen, learning the basics of mask-making and disguise, which was painting.

“Zhang Hailou, what are you drawing?”
“Godmother, this is a painted finch. I drew it for you.”
“What do you want to draw a finch for?”
“Because it looks nice?”
“Zhang Haixia, what’s wrong with your eyebrows?”
“Zhang Hailou drew them for me.”
“Godmother, of course, if you’re drawing a finch, you need to draw its eyebrows. I’m just practicing with its eyebrows.”

“Zhang Haixia, go wash your eyebrows.”

Zhang Haixia responded with an “oh,” turned around, and went to wash his face. His godmother quickly drew a huge snake next to the eyebrow bird.

Zhang Haiyan asked, “What is this?”

His godmother said, “This is your true self. You need to overcome your true self.”

***

Very tired, I’ll take a nap first.