Chapter 7: Undersea

The darkness accumulated over the years in the basement had taken form, thick and viscous as it seeped into every corner.

With it came the silence of death, amplified endlessly by the sound of water droplets falling onto the tiles.

In the stillness, his heartbeat thundered in his ears.

The endless solitude was like seawater rising overhead—at first, it only dampened his feet, but when he turned back, the tide had already risen past his knees, his waist, and was now strangling his fragile throat.

Time was severed in the basement.

It had stopped here, forever suspended in this impenetrable darkness.

Countless times, Yu Zhu had felt dazed, believing the blood, pain, and collapse hidden in this darkness were nothing more than a nightmare.

That when the dark receded, he would wake up.

When the dream ended, sunlight would shine as usual.

He would shoulder his schoolbag like always, walk through the long row of deep-green osmanthus trees in front of the teaching building, carried forward by the gentle wind.

Had the osmanthus bloomed yet?

Outside the basement—was it autumn, or summer?

Perhaps spring? Or had winter already come?

Was it morning? Or afternoon?

Why hadn’t this nightmare… ended yet?

Pain gnawed at him like countless ants beneath his skin.

His heart skipped a beat as he reached out to touch the impenetrable fog before him.

It was real.

The darkness was real.

The confinement in the basement was real.

The pain searing his body was real.

The prison that held him was real.

Only the darkness was real.

Hovering at the edge of dream and reality, Yu Zhu drifted in a daze.

The long-term drug intake had shortened his moments of clarity.

It was becoming harder and harder to distinguish between reality and illusion.

What was real, and what was false?

In the pitch-black void, suddenly a camphor tree rose, radiant and resplendent.

Its towering crown pierced through the ceiling, green leaves drooping low, fragrance spilling through its branches.

On its rough trunk were carved words he knew well.

It was the camphor at the entrance of Xihuan North District—

the one that carried every beautiful memory of his childhood.

The leaves rustled softly overhead.

As Yu Zhu drew near, his muddled thoughts hadn’t yet cleared when a strange sound reached him.

“Clink.”

The snap of a metal chain fastening.

The camphor scattered into starlight and dispersed like wind.

Light surged into his vision, overwhelming.

A warm breeze brushed against him.

His eyes watered from the brightness as he blinked.

“You’re awake?”

Yu Zhu finally saw her—Gu Wanting.

She was very close, close enough for him to see the faint brown of her irises.

Lavender fragrance lingered in the air.

She smiled, then pulled back slightly.

Her hair was half-dry, draped over her shoulders.

She had changed into a pink silk slip dress.

Her lips, once flame-red, had faded into the tender shade of cherry blossoms, softening the sharpness of her features.

The chandelier overhead spilled golden tassels of light.

On the snow-white wall hung a large TV screen broadcasting the evening news.

The anchor’s formal, precise tone was the only lively sound in the silence.

“Warmth in winter, welcoming the New Year. Today marks the traditional festival of Laba. To carry forward cultural traditions and bring festivity to the elderly, volunteers in Pingyang District have recently visited local nursing homes…”

Laba Festival.

“Zhu Zhu, ever celebrated Laba before?”

Gu Wanting sat on the soft sofa, her bare feet pressing down on Yu Zhu’s clothes.

She toyed with a silver chain in her hand.

With just a slight pull, his head was forced up.

The chain shimmered with a deep, mysterious sheen, intricate patterns gleaming coldly.

It lay snug against his throat, a declaration of her ownership.

“But your master wasn’t satisfied just now, Zhu Zhu.”

Her fingertip brushed a whip mark at the corner of his eye.

Lowering her gaze, she tugged the chain as one might tease a pet.

His head tilted back.

He saw her slender white fingers pluck a piece of apple from the fruit platter.

“Only ten lashes, and you can’t handle it? Zhu Zhu, you’d better not be lying to me.”

Cool juice dripped down his face as she crushed the apple in her hand.

She picked up another piece.

“As punishment—or should I say, reward? My little dog, I picked out a new collar just for you. Do you like it?”

She pressed the fruit into his mouth, her fingers stirring the pulp.

His teeth knocked against her knuckles until the fruit turned to mush.

Only then did she withdraw her hand.

Silver threads glittered between her fingers beneath the lights, dazzling and alluring.

“So pretty.”

Gu Wanting leaned down, brushing her pale lips against the corner of his mouth.

“I like it very much,” she murmured, speaking to herself.

Yu Zhu swallowed the apple with difficulty, his Adam’s apple bobbing against the chain that trembled faintly in her grip.

She tightened it, the excess length spilling through her fingers.

Taking out her phone, she captured the image of the chain’s quiver.

Her fingertip slid across the screen, opening her social app.

Ignoring 99+ unread messages, she uploaded the photo to her homepage.

The Gu family—prestigious, disciplined, and virtually unknown to the outside world.

Even a search would turn up only a few official lines.

No gossip, no scandals, no family feuds for idle chatter.

Yet it was a colossus, untouchable in C City.

And precisely because of the secrecy, the hints and whispers, the vagueness that bordered on illusion—

the Gu family was like treasure hidden in a mirage, drawing countless eager eyes.

Most of all, there was Gu Wanting, the youngest daughter.

From the moment she was born, she had stood at a finish line unreachable in a lifetime.

As the only daughter, she was the family’s pearl, cherished to the extreme.

Her father and three brothers would not frown even if she asked for the moon.

At one month old, she already owned billions in assets.

The pampered princess of the Gu family.

A life exaggerated like a Mary Sue heroine.

So when she first verified her profile on social media, her followers soared past a million overnight.

What was the daily life of a top-tier heiress like?

Was it, as people vaguely guessed, that she would feel joy on a sunny day, then casually board her private jet to London for afternoon tea?

Or perhaps host a spontaneous gathering at her estate, only to whimsically turn away the city’s elites who rushed to attend?

But what her fans found instead was not a lofty princess—

but a seemingly ordinary pet lover.

She had a dog she adored.

Her posts were almost all about it: a new cage, bonding moments, exchanges of pet-raising tips.

Her very first post, after opening her account, was about this dog.

[Gu Wanting V: Saw a very beautiful dog at school today. [Attached photo]]

The photo, however, showed no dog.

Only a corner of a wall lit by blazing sunset.

After that, all were simple, everyday updates about raising a dog.

If not for the fact that she never showed the dog’s face,

and that every toy she posted was traced back to prices in the hundreds of thousands—

she would have seemed no different from any other pet owner.

Even her profile signature made no mention of her Gu family identity.

It only said—

[Bio: My dog’s name is Zhu Zhu.]

Inside the villa, Gu Wanting glanced at that signature without concern.

Her fingers moved, finalizing the photo upload.

Yu Zhu sat on the carpet, swallowing the fruit she had fed him.

On the screen, he clearly saw the words—

[Gu Wanting V: Really love Zhu Zhu’s new collar. [Attached photo]]

In the picture, the delicate silver chain dangled between her fingers, flashing with a cold gleam.