Chapter 21

“But you can’t escape from me~”

Ke La, as the administrator for Sern affairs, naturally recognized those marks at a glance. She grew even more astonished. “You… you’re addicted to drugs?”

Could the personal maid of a great noble house really be hooked on drugs?

“No, someone kept jabbing me with long needles, piercing right through my arms. The old wounds hadn’t even healed before the new rounds of torment began. I really couldn’t take it anymore. I didn’t want to live.”

As she spoke these words, there should have been tears and snot to sell the misery, but for the Sern people, encounters far worse than hers were countless. Tears and grievances would only come across as cheap. Duo Lin was no fool; she had no intention of playing for pity.

Lan Zhijing stared at those arms covered in scars, her face twisting in revulsion—not from an inability to look, but from sheer distaste, as if she’d witnessed something utterly indecorous that dirtied her eyes.

From the expressions of the three women present, Ke La could piece together a rough picture. The culprit stood right beside her. No need to call the police; they could simply summon the guards outside and haul her away.

Yet the injuries of a Sern person hardly mattered. It was like inspecting a stray dog at a shelter and finding it covered in scars—you couldn’t very well accuse the owner of abuse.

The crux of the issue had shifted now, from “escape” to “suicide.” As for whether it counted as “dereliction of duty,” that would ultimately hinge on the employer’s judgment. Ke La understood full well who called the shots here, so she turned her gaze to He Lilin, inviting her to speak.

He Lilin had seen those arms before and weathered the initial shock, but viewing them again still churned her blood. First, for Lan Zhijing’s failure to report and her casual brutality against someone under He Lilin’s protection. Second, for Duo Lin’s silence, keeping her arms punctured like a showerhead without seeking help.

“You should have reported this to me right away instead of bottling it up. You kept quiet, I stayed in the dark, and who suffered for it? You did!”

With graver matters at hand, Duo Lin set aside her usual insolence and nodded. “Miss He is right. It was my fault for not telling you sooner and causing you worry.”

He Lilin shot her a sidelong glance, her almond-shaped cat eyes narrowing and widening with exasperation—furious at her lack of fight, yet tinged with pity. In the bureau’s eyes, such compassion would be reasonably interpreted as the bond between mistress and servant.

“From now on, value your own life more. I like how you handle my personal affairs. If you were gone, who’d take care of those chores for me?”

The fact that she scolded her own servant spoke volumes: the employment contract would continue.

He Lilin shrugged her shoulders, her eyes finally returning to normal size. The haughty air of the eldest miss softened just a touch.

Lan Zhijing, hearing the turn this was taking, went from revolted to barely holding it together. Her lips pressed into a thin, iron-hard line, as if the slightest slack would unleash a torrent of curses.

She had long despised Duo Lin’s lofty demeanor. The girl was nothing but a lowly Sern servant, yet she carried herself like some model student from her past, utterly devoid of the humility she deserved. Just days ago, she’d scalded He Lilin’s leg while helping her bathe her feet—suspicious as hell, no matter how you sliced it.

Heaven knew when He Lilin had gone blind, insisting on keeping her as a personal attendant!

“Miss, you know the rules in our household. No one would ever abuse private punishment. Since Duo Lin has been deliberately targeted, doesn’t that suggest she has issues of her own? Like the other day, when she was helping you with your foot bath and scalded your leg—it’s still bandaged with medicine!”

He Lilin responded breezily, as if she’d forgotten the pain in her leg. “Aunt Lan, Duo Lin is my personal maid. She works right under my nose every day. If there’s a problem with her, I’d be the one with the most say. That said, you’re right—mistreating household servants isn’t allowed in my home, and it won’t happen again.”

Her words weren’t loud, but each syllable carried crisp rhythm and undeniable weight. Lan Zhijing’s presence loomed oppressively, leaving Ke La stuck in the middle, unable to get a word in edgewise. Whatever decision she made now would offend someone, but if she had to choose, she couldn’t afford to cross Miss He.

“I’ve got the picture now. Employee Duo Lin had some unfortunate experiences, leading her to attempt suicide. That’s why she fled the house, sparking this misunderstanding. From Duo Lin’s attitude, she clearly reveres Miss He and takes her duties seriously. It was just a momentary lapse, no fundamental breach. Would Miss He be willing to give her another chance to continue serving you?”

Ke La handed He Lilin an elegant out.

What a sharp section chief, reading the winds and steering accordingly. He Lilin felt a spark of approval and resolved to put in a good word for her with her father later—a fitting return favor.

“Very well. Considering her current contrite attitude and her usual diligence, I’ll overlook it. As for her injuries, it’s due to lax oversight of our servants at home. My apologies for the embarrassment. I trust Housekeeper Lan will thoroughly investigate upon our return and ensure nothing like this happens again. Isn’t that right, Aunt Lan?”

Lan Zhijing felt as if a rag had been stuffed in her mouth at He Lilin’s eager query. She couldn’t speak and nearly retched.

Well played. The precious eldest miss she’d served like a treasure had not only gone blind but lost all sense besides, admitting family shame for a Sern servant’s sake!

Yet no matter how dim the miss became, in a setting like this—before the bureau’s section chief—Lan Zhijing had to play along, lest the laundry air too publicly.

Prioritizing the bigger picture, she swallowed her nausea and forced out a zealous vow to “root out evil.” “Rest assured, Miss. I’ll handle it properly!”

…

Back at the He Family home, Lan Zhijing’s face was pulled taut. She had few wrinkles, but stretching her features like that made faint law lines appear, undoing decades of meticulous care.

Investigate? How? Tie herself up and dump herself at He Lilin’s feet?

Did she need to apologize to Duo Lin too? Sorry for dragging her feet and not finishing her off sooner, forcing her to run out and try suicide herself!

He Lilin’s performance at the bureau had been a veiled scolding, shaking the tiger from the mountain. Since joining the He household, Lan Zhijing had toiled diligently without a harsh word from her employers. Recognizing the blow this farce dealt her housekeeper, He Lilin didn’t belabor it upon returning. She truly intended no deep probe.

Instead, she feigned exhaustion and an early bedtime. After a simple dinner, she retired to her bedroom—granting herself space and giving Lan Zhijing time to stew and sort herself out.

Once the room quieted, Duo Lin felt the bone-deep weariness of survival. She had made it back to Miss He’s home alive at last. Fortune that she lived; misfortune that she was back at square one.

She couldn’t tell if it was cause for relief or regret.

The agony of her failed escape preyed on her amid the fatigue, soon spreading through her body. Her heart and spirit ached. Even familiar surroundings now repelled her, urging flight.

Duo Lin fought down the discomfort and went about her routine: making the bed, preparing the incense, waiting for He Lilin to retire.

He Lilin seemed genuinely spent. She leaned against the pillow, her lashes fluttering shut without a quiver, slipping seamlessly into sleep.

Duo Lin lowered her gaze, studying her. The pain in her heart reached a boiling point, bubbling violently as if scalding droplets might burst from her chest.

He Lilin’s appearance matched the public’s fantasy of an eldest miss: cat eyes lending cold allure, heart-shaped face sharpening her nobility. One glance from those eyes screamed untouchable prestige—like Ke La’s first sight of her, instantly recognizing a force not to cross.

In sleep, though, with cat eyes closed and chin tucked, her lashes and nose bridge took center stage. Stripped of the eldest miss’s edge, she became a serene, gentle girl. It hit you then: just a pretty young woman whose sleeping face was adorably vulnerable. Awake, she might make a fine friend to confide in.

But Duo Lin knew better. Friendship was impossible, confidences out of reach. Between them lay only mistress-servant ties, plus the Homer people’s dominion and enslavement of the Sern—a chasm too vast to bridge.

If she could choose, she’d face the bloody storms outside over caging herself here as a prisoner.

If chance came again, she’d flee for good.

Gazing at her sleeping face, Duo Lin whispered, her voice dissolving silently into the air. “He Lilin, you shouldn’t have brought me back.”

The words trailed into a soft sigh as she exhaled deeply. Duo Lin reached to extinguish the light, preparing to leave the bedroom.

In the darkness, her hand was seized hard. Duo Lin stumbled backward. The next instant, the grip yanked her toward the bed’s edge. She threw out a hand to brace against it, avoiding tumbling onto the woman in bed.

The hand clutching her arm shifted, sliding to her upper back before settling at the nape of her neck. He Lilin splayed her fingers, gripping tight and forcing Duo Lin downward, her face inches from He Lilin’s cheek.

The thick gloom amplified every tiny sound. Duo Lin’s breaths came in ragged gasps as she struggled to steady herself. Pinned down, she was made to lean low over the pillow, her exhalations tangling hot in He Lilin’s ear.

Dangerous. Intimate.

Too close to read He Lilin’s expression, but the voice drilling into her ear was enough—sending chills racing down her spine, every hair standing on end.

“I know you slipped something into my water glass. I know you were planning to escape. Rest assured, I won’t let anyone hurt you anymore. But you can’t escape from here~”

…

On her official first day, Ji Tingxi was summoned to the dean’s office. Even a layman could see this woman was no ordinary transfer. How long had she been here? Already thick as thieves with Dean He De—either reporting proactively or being called for weighty discussions. Today took the cake: invited for tea. Who else in the Guard Institute enjoyed such privilege?

Ji Tingxi getting called for tea came as no surprise. The search of the Kangman representative’s courtesy car was major news; Dean He De had to weigh in. The question was how it’d shake out.

Anyone else would’ve been toast by now, cooling off with their severance meal. But Ji Tingxi? The hotshot shipped in from Ganteming in the Western District. Would she turn peril into triumph?

Ji Tingxi headed off for tea, calm as ever, while her colleagues’ anticipation bubbled over, eager for the verdict.

Tea turned out to be two glasses: plain water for her, coffee for him. An urgent call from North County Station had wrecked Dean He’s weekend sleep—insomnia for two nights, only for drowsiness to strike Monday morning.

This steady middle-aged man had tasted the teen torment of “can’t sleep at night, can’t wake up mornings.”

Eyes barely open, Dean He gulped coffee, his words bitter-edged. “Chief Ji, the vehicle search… Kangman didn’t pursue it, but the leaders at North County Station are still very interested.”

Ji Tingxi knew the brass were watching; else why drag her back to the Wei Investigation Institute over the weekend for repeated briefings?

“But doesn’t the Foreign Affairs Office head strike you as suspicious?”

He De pinched his nose bridge, propping his eyelids open. “But you only found modification traces in the courtesy car—no contraband, right?”

“Someone tampering with a vehicle is suspicious in itself. The Kangman guests used only their own cars the whole trip, and those had mods that evaded border checks. This isn’t trivial.”

“So your suspicion is?”

“I have no doubts about the other guests.” Ji Tingxi honored the dean’s kindness with a sip of water. “Just Keqi—he’s fishy. I suspect he meant to smuggle something out through us, but it failed.”

“North County Station fed back on that: his background and record are clean.”

“Backgrounds don’t reveal everything. From our first meeting, his accent struck me as off. A Kangman man with Sern pronunciation habits. He claims childhood in Kuibe Region, dialect influence. I’ll send someone to verify.”

He De fell silent, letting moments pass.

A diligent subordinate saved the boss trouble—good. Too diligent? It made the boss redundant, forcing him to match her intensity.

Ji Tingxi didn’t just grind; she dragged the dean into the grinder—a true anti-slacking legend.

Not that He De shirked, but he knew North County Station’s priorities. Warding off Sern influence was critical; ties with Kangman even more so. Lesser matters could wait—can’t miss the forest for the trees.

Seeing He De quiet, Ji Tingxi pressed. “Dean, rest easy. I know my limits. Tourism resumption should go smoothly, but I recommend ramped-up border checks post-reopening. We need to step in and enforce strict oversight!”

Ji Tingxi’s zeal outdid the coffee; He De’s drowsiness vanished, alertness surging.

“I’ll consider your suggestions and raise them with North County Station and the Northern Security Investigation Station. But Tingxi, any future actions require my consultation. I must oversee strictly too!”

The dean’s tone bespoke lukewarm approval for both ideas and plans. Ji Tingxi emerged less than thrilled—only to run into Director Wen descending the stairs, who clocked her mood crystal clear.

Among those rubbernecking Ji Tingxi’s tea summons, add Wen Du. Not a gossip hound, just keen to see if the brash newcomer truly had the chops to quash the backlash unscathed.

In other words, did she have real backing?

Down the stairs she came, straight into Chief Ji—deflated, talk clearly gone south. Wen Du’s heart rippled with subtle glee. She planted herself in Ji Tingxi’s path, concern etching her features.

“Chief Ji, are you alright?”

Ji Tingxi always shone in company, especially before Wen Du. At the question, she brightened instantly, grinning with the confidence of her institute-wide “commendation” from He De.

“I’m fine. Great chat with the dean—his boiled water hits the spot. Director Wen looks the unhappy one, though. You alright?”

Wen Du thought, Got the nerve to ask? Thanks to you. She’d fretted all weekend over tourism reboot sabotage.

But worries piled high couldn’t show. Wen Du repaid in kind, masking resentment with solicitous smiles, her eyes and brows steeped in feigned warmth.

“I’m worried about you. Hope North County Station lets the last incident slide. Do be more careful, Chief Ji!”