A flicker of annoyance crossed Fu Xiaoquan’s face. He took a sip of the congee he’d brought in, then leaned down and pressed his lips to hers. Prying her mouth open, he forced the warm liquid down her throat. Perhaps her body was simply too starved, for even in sleep, Rong Jin instinctively swallowed. Mouthful by mouthful, he fed her until the bowl was empty. The tight knot of his brow finally eased. He tried to withdraw the hand cradling the nape of her neck, but she gripped it tightly, pressing it against her cheek. “Mama…” Rong Jin murmured, clinging to him as if he were a lifeline. Warm tears spilled onto his hand. “I miss you so much… take me with you…” Fu Xiaoquan stared down at her, his eyes cold and distant. “Rong Jin,” he said, his voice flat, “the only one who can save you is yourself.” He wrenched his hand free without a shred of gentleness and left the room. In her dreams, Rong Jin saw her long-dead parents rushing toward her, demanding to know why she had fallen in love with Song Shi, why she had let him cheat her out of the company. Their accusations were a weight on her chest, suffocating her. Sobbing, she begged them to take her with them. Then, through the haze, she heard a voice whisper in her ear, “The only one who can save you is yourself…” Rong Jin’s eyes snapped open to a white ceiling. Her grandmother would have been fine. But it was Ning Yun. She had run to the hospital, told her grandmother that Rong Jin was a murderer, and the shock had literally killed the old woman. She would take back Shen He. She would avenge her parents. She would make Song Shi and Ning Yun pay in blood. The cloudy haze in Rong Jin’s eyes sharpened into something cold and resolute. She rose, slipped on the long dress left on a chair, and walked out of the bedroom. Downstairs, she found a man still sitting at the dining table. He wore a light gray vest over a dress shirt, looking as if he’d just come from work. His features were cool and severe as he ate his dinner, listening to a man named A Sheng speak. “Miss Rong.” A Sheng was the first to notice her, offering a slight smile. “Are you feeling better?” Rong Jin nodded. “How long was I asleep?” “A week.” “That long?” Rong Jin was taken aback. For some reason, despite having been unconscious for so long, she didn't feel the gnawing hunger she expected. A maid brought a bowl and a pair of chopsticks from the kitchen, placing them in front of her. Rong Jin glanced at the man across the table, about to speak, but seeing that A Sheng was in the middle of a report, she lowered her head and began to eat in silence. Soon, the man finished his dinner, pushed his chair back, and headed upstairs. Rong Jin put down her chopsticks as well. She followed Fu Xiaoquan into the bedroom and saw him shrug off his vest as he walked toward the bathroom. Biting her lip, she mustered her courage and stepped in front of him. “Here, let me help you.” He was tall, and Rong Jin had to raise her hands high just to reach the buttons of his shirt. He didn't move, merely watching her with his gaze lowered. They were so close she could smell the cold, clean scent on him, which made her hands tremble even more. After fumbling for what felt like an eternity, she still hadn’t managed to undo the top button. Fu Xiaoquan brushed her hands away, his expression impassive. “What are you doing?” “I…” Rong Jin pressed her lips together. “Thank you for getting me out of the police station.” If it weren’t for him, she’d still be in a holding cell, waiting to be taken to court and sentenced. He had even been the one to arrange her grandmother’s funeral. Now she had nothing left. All she had was… At that thought, Rong Jin reached behind her and pulled down the zipper of her dress. It pooled at her feet. Her pale skin was exposed to the air, and a slight shiver ran through her. Standing before her, Fu Xiaoquan couldn’t avoid the sight. His breath hitched almost imperceptibly. His gaze made her deeply uncomfortable. She crossed her arms over her chest as if to shield herself, her voice thick with a difficult, raw emotion. “I’m asking for your help. I want to take back Shen He…” Shen He was the legacy her parents had left her. She had to get it back. “So you take your clothes off in front of me?” Fu Xiaoquan’s cold gaze was laced with mockery. “A courtesan at least knows how to seduce a client. You just stand there like a corpse, albeit a fair-skinned one.” Rong Jin never imagined that offering him the last of her dignity would earn such a scathing review. Humiliation burned across her cheeks, turning them scarlet. Just then, the man’s phone rang. “I have no interest in corpses. Get dressed and go back to your room,” he said flatly, turning to answer the call by the window. Rong Jin scrambled to pull her dress back on. Head bowed, she fled back to her own room. After shutting the door, she slid down against it, the man’s words echoing in her mind. Shame and sorrow washed over her, and she buried her face in her arms. She had no idea who he was, but he knew everything. He could get the police chief himself to escort her out of the station. That alone proved he was no ordinary person. She had assumed he wanted her body, and her body was the only thing she had left to give. But just now, he had refused her.