Chapter 12: The Escape Attempt

That person lay down.

Right beside her.

Her hair was still wet, smelling of shampoo—the same kind Lin Qingxue used during the day.

But this person was not Lin Qingxue.

This person was a murderer.

A killer who had taken a life.

The breathing beside her was soft and even.

A long silence.

Then that person moved.

A rustling sound—she was reaching for her phone.

The glow of the screen—Su Yutao could sense it. Even though she couldn’t see it, that faint light brought a subtle change to her eyelids.

Then a very soft sound—she was sending a message.

Tapping.

A pause.

Tapping again.

Then the phone was put down.

Silence.

Su Yutao thought she was going to sleep.

But that person moved again.

She picked up the phone once more.

This time, a call.

The call connected.

Her voice was very light, very low:

“Last night in the rain, near the old city’s abandoned building, the intersection’s surveillance—send me a clip.”

Silence.

“Yeah, around ten to eleven at night.”

Silence.

“No need to send it all, just cut the part I sent you.”

Silence.

“Fine, as soon as possible.”

The call ended.

A thunderclap went off in Su Yutao’s mind.

Surveillance? Last night?

The old city’s abandoned building?

That intersection…

Those words combined brought Su Yutao back to last night’s scene.

And there’s surveillance?

It caught it.

Now this person is pulling the footage.

What is she checking?

Her?

Or whether there are any other traces left from last night?

Su Yutao’s body went ice-cold.

That person beside her moved again.

She put down the phone.

Then that hand reached over—

Su Yutao’s entire body tensed.

That hand didn’t strangle her. It just pinched her chin, gently turning her face.

That voice was right by her ear, very light, very faint, as if the earlier threat wasn’t finished:

“I know you’re awake.”

Su Yutao froze.

“Did you remember what I said?”

Su Yutao nodded frantically—her chin still pinched, her nod jerky and uneven.

That hand loosened a little.

“I told you to stay as you were—like before you went to sleep. Understood?”

Su Yutao nodded again.

Silence.

That hand let go completely.

That person lay back down.

“Sleep.”

Su Yutao didn’t know what to do.

She could only keep her previous position—curled up, shrunk, motionless.

Like she was asleep.

Breathing started again beside her.

Soft.

Was she really asleep?

Su Yutao kept her eyes open, staring at the eternal darkness before her.

The breathing beside her continued.

Really asleep!

Su Yutao didn’t move, like a corpse.

But her mind was racing.

Racing wildly.

Run. She had to run.

This person killed someone.

This person almost killed her last night.

And now she’s sleeping beside her.

What if she decides this witness can’t live?

She might again—

Su Yutao didn’t dare think further.

She only had now.

Now this person is asleep.

Now is her only chance.

Su Yutao slowly exhaled, trying to keep her breath steady.

Then she began to move.

Very slowly.

Very quietly.

First her fingers, gradually releasing the clenched blanket.

Then her arms, inch by inch, pulling out from under the covers.

Then her body, bit by bit, shifting toward the edge of the bed.

The bed moved.

A very small sound.

Su Yutao froze, straining her ears.

That breathing beside her—

It stopped…

All the blood in Su Yutao’s body ran cold.

One second.

Two seconds.

Three seconds.

That breathing didn’t resume.

But there was no other sound either.

Su Yutao didn’t dare move.

She held that pose, half-propped up, suspended at the edge of the bed.

Then a voice sounded in the darkness.

Very light, very faint.

No trace of sleep-roughened hoarseness:

“Going somewhere?”

A thunderclap went off in Su Yutao’s mind.

She opened her mouth, but no sound came out.

She only froze there, as if fixed in place.

The bed moved.

That person sat up.

Then came a click—the light turned on.

Su Yutao couldn’t see the light, but she could sense it—a subtle change in her eyelids.

That person had turned on the light.

She was looking at her.

Silence.

A long silence.

Su Yutao could feel that gaze, landing on her like a blade.

Then that voice sounded again, with a hint of amusement:

“Trying to run?”

Su Yutao shook her head frantically.

Then nodded.

Then shook her head again.

She didn’t know how to react.

Footsteps.

That person walked over.

Stopped in front of her.

Very close.

Su Yutao could feel that pressure, like a mountain bearing down.

Then a hand reached out—not to pinch her chin, but to grab her hair, yanking her head back.

Pain.

A tearing pain on her scalp.

Su Yutao’s whole body was jerked backward, her face tilted up, a suppressed grunt escaping her throat—no sound came out, only a stream of air squeezed from her vocal cords.

That voice was right above her, still so faint:

“Do you think you can escape?”

Su Yutao shook her head frantically.

Her hair was pulled tighter.

“I asked you a question.”

Su Yutao kept shaking her head.

She couldn’t escape.

She knew she couldn’t.

But she couldn’t just wait to die, could she?

That person seemed to read her thoughts, letting out a soft laugh.

It wasn’t a real laugh.

It was a sneer, one that found her ridiculous.

That hand let go of her hair.

Then—

A slap across her face.

Very hard.

Su Yutao’s whole body was knocked sideways, stumbling two steps and hitting the wall.

Her face stung fiercely.

Her ears rang.

She leaned against the wall, gasping.

That person stood still, not moving an inch.

“This slap, let it be a lesson.”

Su Yutao covered her face, shrinking into the corner.

That person walked over and crouched in front of her.

One hand reached out, pinched her chin, and turned her face.

“Look up.”

Su Yutao lifted her head, “staring” ahead.

That voice was right by her ear, very close, very soft, like a blade cutting skin:

“I didn’t kill you last night because you were just a beggar on the street—not worth it.”

“I didn’t kill you tonight because killing you would be too much trouble.”

“But if you move again—”

That hand let go of her chin and suddenly pressed down on the wound on her shoulder.

The place that had been kicked.

Swollen, bruised, agonizing at the slightest touch.

That hand pressed hard.

Su Yutao felt as if electrocuted, her whole body convulsing, mouth open, a rasping sound escaping her throat.

Pain.

Too painful.

It hurt so much her vision went black—though it was already black.

It hurt so much she wanted to scream, but couldn’t.

It hurt so much she curled into a ball, frantically trying to retreat.

But that hand pressed down, immovable.

That voice was right by her ear, like shards of ice:

“Does it hurt?”

Su Yutao nodded frantically.

“Remember this pain.”

“Next time you try to run, it won’t be just a press.”

That hand let go.

Su Yutao slid to the floor, curled up, trembling all over.

Her shoulder hurt like it was splitting open.

Her face hurt too.

Her scalp hurt.

And her heart hurt even more.

She huddled in the corner, gasping, tears forming at the edges of her eyes—but they wouldn’t fall; this body couldn’t cry.

That person stood up.

Looked down at her.

Silence for a few seconds.

Then that voice sounded again, faint:

“Go back and lie down.”

Su Yutao didn’t move.

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