Chapter 60: Locked Up for Life

The elevator descended to the basement level. The metal doors slid slowly open to either side, and Xie Yingnian carried Zhong Jia out. The girl in her arms was sleeping soundly. Perhaps only when she woke at dawn, groggy and confused, would she finally grasp her new reality.

There were no windows here, but the lighting had been thoughtfully designed. Soft sources illuminated every corner. Wooden flooring covered the ground. To the right of the elevator was a staircase, and at the end of the left side stood a blank wall with a password-protected door embedded in it.

Nothing strange about that. Humans were prone to insecurity, always feeling eyes watching their every move. It was perfectly normal to want a hidden spot where no one else could pry.

Xie Yingnian was probably the most unique among them. She didn’t hoard wealth or collect antiques and treasures. Only she could unlock that password door, and the secret space beyond it had once held a malformed, throbbing heart. From now on, it would house something far better—a miracle cure for her ailment.

Ordinary sleeping pills had failed to ease her insomnia, but simply having this girl by her side had worked wonders. That alone proved her irreplaceable value, priceless beyond measure.

So she had to be kept in a locked box, safely hidden away, out of reach of prying eyes—not even her so-called father could be allowed to take her away on a whim.

What would her reaction be when she realized she’d lost the most basic freedom as an individual?

Disbelief, panic, helplessness… or disappointment, anger…

Imagining those latter emotions that might not even erupt, Xie Yingnian tightened her arms without reason. Her palm slid along Zhong Jia’s back to rest against the girl’s soft waist. Even in sleep, Zhong Jia seemed to sense the pressure—her eyelashes fluttered lightly.

Xie Yingnian slowed her steps and steadied her breathing. Seeing the girl’s peaceful sleeping face with no sign of waking, she continued forward.

The password door featured iris recognition. The system was highly sensitive. As Xie Yingnian approached, the lens captured her long, upturned fox-like eyes, a red light flashed, and the door hissed open.

She paused at the threshold, not rushing into the carefully furnished room. A question swirled in her mind: Would she?

Would Zhong Jia feel disappointed, angry, deceived? Would she think Xie Yingnian was using emotions to bind her?

Xie Yingnian smiled silently to herself. She hadn’t. She’d given Zhong Jia every chance to leave, but the girl had chosen to return of her own accord. What was wrong with that?

That night on the mountaintop, in the sealed car thick with humid, heated air, Zhong Jia had asked why they had to part if Xie Yingnian liked her too. Xie Yingnian had confessed her illness, only to hear an unwavering response: I’ll stay with you and help you get better. I won’t abandon you.

She’d said it, and she’d done it—climbing those endless steps on swollen, bloodied knees to the Golden Hall. The Buddhas and bodhisattvas there had granted absolution to countless fools in love. The girl’s regrets had nothing to do with the gaps in time; no need to reverse yin and yang. They could simply be fulfilled.

Everything in the world was conserved. Gain one thing, lose another. So the rest of her life would be spent as a frail invalid.

She had the face of someone clever, but she was a fool who’d misdiagnosed the illness.

True feelings couldn’t be faked.

It might not be the worst outcome.

With a calm expression, Xie Yingnian stepped inside. The sickly pallor that had once clung to her was gone; her skin glowed with healthy fairness. Regular exercise had sculpted beautiful curves, and carrying Zhong Jia this distance barely winded her. Her red lips pressed together slightly, her aloof aura enhanced by her striking features—like plum blossoms blooming defiantly on a snowy branch.

The metal door sealed shut behind her. What seemed like an impenetrable fortress was actually decorated with warmth, not at all creepy.

As Zhong Jia’s sponsor since the girl lost her family at sixteen, Xie Yingnian received monthly expense reports exported from an accounting app. They detailed not just amounts spent, but exactly where the money went.

She knew Zhong Jia’s tastes—what she ate, drank, used, and played with. The space included a fully equipped recording studio, and there was even a music room stocked with instruments.

From beginning to end, Xie Yingnian had no intention of harming Zhong Jia. Though her actions carried an element of harm from certain perspectives, she refused to feel any guilt.

For one, she didn’t believe words like “conscience” or “morality” applied to her. For another, having chosen Zhong Jia meant the girl had extraordinary resilience—drawn by curiosity and affection to approach an unknown monster.

After all, Xie Yingnian had warned her before. Even Shi Cainran had tried to caution her with ill intentions.

The space resembled an ordinary home: living room, bedroom, kitchen, bathroom, utility rooms—all fully equipped with furniture and appliances. It was spacious, too.

Living here should feel pleasant. Of course, choosing to live here and being locked up were entirely different matters.

Xie Yingnian could never experience the latter, but she’d tried to empathize, tormenting the innocent designer and his team to recreate an authentic outdoor scene in the basement: blue skies, white clouds, grassy fields… birds chirping in trees, people running on the ground. With VR gear, it could even be interactive.

The eccentric client refused explanations and offered exorbitant pay. The designer sold his soul for the money, revising plans endlessly without ever satisfying her.

It wasn’t finished, yet she’d brought someone here anyway. Today was an accident.

The original plan was after the Music Variety Show ended. Xie Yingnian had calculated it meticulously: two or three months for Zhong Jia to cautiously follow every step, allowing her to “disappear” perfectly from the public eye. In time, everyone would forget her, and she could settle here in peace, putting down roots.

Having built fame and fans on the Music Variety Show, young and full of promise, announcing plans to study abroad would seem fitting—especially with her stellar academics and awards. People would admire her foresight and courage amid the surprise.

Zhong Jia’s social ties were simple: family gone, few friends. Without her celebrity status, she’d be like someone living in a sealed vacuum. Shattering the glass and whisking her away would be easy.

But one oversight: the negligible Zhong Kefei.

The world was full of news stories like this—parents treating children as possessions to discard or raise at will, regardless of past efforts, convinced of their right to control.

That’s why Zhong Kefei presumed to make outrageous demands on a daughter he’d never raised. He probably thought he was giving her the best: the business empire he’d schemed half his life to seize from others, denied to his son but bestowed on her.

She could almost hear his condescending tone, doling it out like charity, certain of acceptance.

Perfect, then. A crowded late-night eatery booked out, bodyguards lined up neatly inside. Everyone knew Zhong Kefei was meeting his long-abandoned daughter that night, but they didn’t leave together. Whatever they discussed, it ended badly.

Though Zhong Jia had reunited with Xie Yingnian right after leaving the shop—they’d even kissed passionately in the bustling night market, dominating the hot searches—what then? She didn’t know where her girlfriend had gone. When she woke, it was as if Zhong Jia had vanished into thin air.

Both she and Zhong Kefei would be prime suspects, but guess whose side public opinion would take?

There was a dark room here, smaller activity space, but they’d weather the investigation.

With all the roles she’d played, how hard could it be to play herself? The social image she’d crafted—intentionally or not—people she’d helped inside and outside the industry, her charities, even digging into her childhood… the thicker the file, the better for her.

The solid wood bookshelf overflowed with books, mostly film-related. A hidden mechanism in an inconspicuous corner led to the dark room behind.

Xie Yingnian knew even the most meticulous plans weren’t foolproof. Everyone made mistakes; she was never blindly overconfident—that was part of her strength. She was taking a bigger risk now because she’d bet on a different person.

Would you be willing?

She wanted to ask.

The so-called dark room was a bedroom with a basic bathroom: whitewashed walls, cabinets, table, chairs, and a bed.

It looked utterly ordinary—until one’s gaze fell on the two chains dangling from the wall.

The chains were long enough to reach the bathroom but not the hidden switch. They gleamed with cold metal sheen, weren’t too heavy in hand. One end was welded securely to either side of the bed against the white wall; the other ended in handcuffs, padded to avoid chafing skin.

The cabinet held nightgowns and pajamas. Xie Yingnian selected a nightgown, moving gently to change Zhong Jia out of her uncomfortable clothes. She sat on the bed’s edge, back to the light, eyes half-lowered and shadowed, her emotions unreadable—lost in thought, or focused? She stared at the girl for a long moment, then pressed her lips tight, reached sideways, and picked up the chain…

Securing the person, Xie Yingnian silently lowered the now-heavier hand. The medicine was safely stowed—why wasn’t she happy?

She asked herself in her mind, but no answer came until a soft voice broke the silence:

“…Xie Yingnian, are you playing some kind of kinky game with me?”

Zhong Jia propped herself up on her elbows. She had no idea when she had fallen asleep. The cold sensation on her wrist had morphed into a snake’s tongue in her dream—sticky and repulsive. It coiled from her hand to her waist, then around her neck, tightening until a sudden wave of suffocation jolted her awake. Her gaze darted around instinctively, and when she finally focused on the thing binding her, she bypassed grogginess entirely, her body breaking out in cold sweat.

She could hardly believe it. She forced a joking tone into her words, but her voice trembled unmistakably.

It took a long moment before Xie Yingnian finally spoke. “This isn’t a game.”

She said no more, merely meeting Zhong Jia’s eyes with a calm, fathomless stare. Her breathing grew uneven.

The unfamiliar surroundings—no windows, no signs that anyone had ever lived here—combined with the reality of her restraints… In an instant, a torrent of chaotic fragments flooded Zhong Jia’s mind, assembling into a single, damning truth.

The illness. Her illness.

Xie Yingnian stood there with her arms crossed, stepping back to put a safer distance between them—one that felt secure for both. “Do you understand now?”

“You want to keep me locked up for life?”

“Sounds like you don’t want that?” Xie Yingnian shot back coldly. But as the words left her lips, her eyes blinked sluggishly, and she rubbed her brow, as if already regretting them.

Panic, fear, chaos, unease—emotions swirled in Zhong Jia’s eyes, quickly tinting the corners red in a way that grated on the nerves.

They weren’t even that close, yet Zhong Jia could clearly hear Xie Yingnian’s ragged breathing. No mistake—her chest heaved violently, as if something inside her was tearing her apart.

For a moment, Zhong Jia forgot her own captive situation. She wanted to ask what was wrong, if she was having an episode, where the medicine was. But before she could speak, a trembling hand clamped down on her throat with brutal force, squeezing as if determined to snap her neck.

The red at the corners of her eyes welled into physiological tears. Zhong Jia choked and coughed, her vision blackening. Survival instinct drove her to struggle; the straps of her dress slipped from her shoulders, baring even more alluring pale skin.

Xie Yingnian panted heavily, her body temperature rising to a scorching heat. “I’ve told you so many times—don’t cry so casually in front of me.”

“…Cough… cough…” The girl before her couldn’t utter a word, forced to tilt her head back. Her fine lashes fluttered desperately, tears trailing one after another down her jawline. Her fragility was utter and complete, stirring a tainted desire instead.

It was impossible to say how much time passed before Zhong Jia’s vision cleared again. She hung her head and coughed some more, then heard the heavy rush of water from the bathroom—like the showerhead cranked to full blast, someone rinsing off.

A muffled groan laced with pain—it was Xie Yingnian.

Her throat still ached, but Zhong Jia called out urgently anyway.

She was terrified of being shut away here, never seeing the light of day, missing the competition, letting down Pu Chu’s hard work, abandoning her dream of singing. But in this moment, all those anxieties paled; what she feared most was losing Xie Yingnian.

In the bathroom, Xie Yingnian was drenched from head to toe. She leaned against the tiles, wearily reaching up to shut off the shower. A few lingering droplets of cold water slid down, splattering onto skin that had been soaked pale and pruney.

Don’t hurt her. How could I hurt her?

She heard the shout and caught the shadow of a figure beyond the locked frosted glass door. Xie Yingnian stood frozen by the sink, neither emerging nor responding. Not until faint, tantalizing whimpers reached her—little more than ant-like crawls into her ears.

“You really won’t come out to see me?” The voice from outside came in a low gasp, breath disordered.