novelraw Chapter 176 My Turn
Chapter 176 My Turn
Lu Xiran's tears fell.
Gu Yanshen didn't look at her. His gaze fell on Song Zhihe, on her torn collar, on the bruised shoulder. His brows furrowed, a furrow that Lu Xiran knew all too well—it was heartache.
"Zhihe." His voice softened, as if he were comforting someone who had been wronged. "Where are you hurt? Besides your shoulder, is there anywhere else?"
Song Zhihe was stunned. She looked at him, at the tenderness in his eyes she had never seen before, and suddenly burst into tears, her whole body trembling. "Yan Shen... I was so scared... I thought you weren't coming..."
"I'm here." He raised his hand and wiped away her tears. The movement was slow, as if he were wiping something precious. "Don't be afraid."
Lu Xiran closed her eyes.
She didn't want to look anymore. But she couldn't close her ears. She heard his footsteps, walking past her, getting farther and farther away. She heard him stop in front of Song Zhihe, heard him untie the rope on her wrists, heard him whisper, "It's alright now."
"Mr. Gu is indeed very affectionate." Li Fengche's applause echoed in the empty hall. "And this one—" He walked up to Lu Xiran, picking up a strand of her hair with his finger, "What should we do with her?"
Gu Yanshen glanced at Lu Xiran.
That glance was brief, so brief it was as if he had casually swept over something insignificant. He didn't even linger on her face before his gaze shifted to the knife in Li Fengche's hand, as if to say—this person is less valuable than a knife.
"You decide what to do." His voice was indifferent, as indifferent as dust blown away by the wind. "I told you, she's just my ex-wife."
When he uttered those three words, he even frowned slightly, as if impatient, as if annoyed that her presence was wasting his time. He placed his fingers on Song Zhihe's shoulder and patted it gently, like soothing a frightened bird, then lowered his head and whispered something in her ear. Song Zhihe nodded and leaned closer to him.
He didn't look at Lu Xiran even once more from beginning to end.
Lu Xiran stood there, a cloth strip binding her mouth, preventing her from making a sound. But she heard it. She heard every single word. Ex-wife. She was just an ex-wife. She remembered the way he held her last night, saying, "I'm so scared," remembered the way he pressed his forehead against hers, saying, "I don't know how to love you," remembered the way he stood in the entryway changing his shoes before leaving today, not even looking at her. Those images swirled together, fragmented into pieces, and she couldn't tell which were real and which were fake.
She thought back to three years ago. In that phone call, when he said, "Kill her, help me solve a problem," his tone was just as indifferent. So indifferent, as if he were talking about something unrelated to him. She thought it was all in the past. She thought that when he said, "I'm so scared," he was genuinely afraid of losing her. She thought that when he said, "I don't know how to love you," he genuinely wanted to learn. She thought he had changed.
He hasn't changed.
When faced with a choice, his choice is always Song Zhihe. Three years ago, and now. She closed her eyes, tears seeping from beneath her eyelashes, rolling down her cheeks, and landing on the cloth gagging her mouth, spreading a small dark patch.
Li Fengche had been observing. His gaze darted back and forth between Gu Yanshen and Lu Xiran, like a hunting dog that had caught the scent of its prey. Gu Yanshen's expression was flawless. His eyes never looked in Lu Xiran's direction; his hand remained on Song Zhihe's shoulder, his body slightly turned to the side, shielding Song Zhihe—his posture was all about protection. As for Lu Xiran, he didn't even spare a glance.
Li Fengche's lips slowly curved into a smile. He believed it.
"Take him away." He waved his hand, his tone carrying a dismissive "I knew it" air. "Lock him up somewhere, make sure he's not in the way."
He left only one person behind. Just one. He didn't even glance back at her, merely waving a finger dismissively at the bodyguard, as if dismissing a worthless piece of luggage. The bodyguard grabbed Lu Xiran's arm, dragging her backward. The toes of her shoes scraped harshly on the ground, but she didn't utter a sound. She just watched him. Watched his back, watched his hand on Song Zhihe's shoulder, watched him pull Song Zhihe closer to his chest.
He didn't turn around.
The door on the side of the hall closed, separating her and him into two different worlds.
Li Fengche drew his knife from his waist. The blade was thin, gleaming coldly under the emergency lights. The people behind him surged forward, blocking the exit completely.
"Mr. Gu," he said with a smile, "now it's time to settle our accounts."
Gu Yanshen pushed Song Zhihe behind him. His expression remained indifferent, as if he didn't care about anything. But with his hands behind his back, he made a gesture to Song Zhihe—squat down and don't move.
Song Zhihe squatted down, shrinking into the corner. Her eyes were red, but she didn't cry. She looked at Gu Yanshen's back, which was very straight, like a tree that had stood for a long time.
Li Fengche took two steps forward. The tip of his knife was pointed at Gu Yanshen's chest, less than half a meter away.
"Do you know why I believe you?" His voice was low, as if sharing a secret, "Because a man like you wouldn't risk his life for a woman. Power, status, life—those are what you care about."
Gu Yanshen looked at him without saying a word.
"That woman took a bullet for you," Li Fengche tilted his head, "but you still chose her. What is she? Something you used and then threw away."
Gu Yanshen's eyelashes fluttered. Just once, as quickly as if blown by the wind.
"You're right," he said calmly. "She's just his ex-wife."
Li Fengche laughed. It was a big laugh, so big that his eyes crinkled. He winked at the people behind him, and they surrounded Gu Yanshen. He was alone, facing them all.
His gaze passed over Li Fengche's shoulder and landed on the closed door in the distance. It was only for a moment. Then he looked away, focusing on the knife in Li Fengche's hand.
A slight smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.
When Li Fengche swung his knife, Gu Yanshen didn't even dodge. He stood there, like a withered tree, like a wall, like he didn't care about anything. The blade grazed his arm, slicing off a small piece of his sleeve, but he didn't even blink.
Li Fengche was stunned for a moment.
He had seen people who weren't afraid of death. But he had never seen anyone so fearless—not even a conscious attempt to fight back, not even a subconscious retreat, just standing there, as if waiting for him to chop him down.
"You—" Li Fengche's hand froze in mid-air.
Gu Yanshen looked at him, his gaze indifferent. It wasn't a forced composure, but a genuine, visceral indifference. "Finished chopping?" his voice was soft. "Finished, it's my turn."
He took a step forward. Not to attack, just to move forward. Li Fengche, however, took a step back. The people behind him followed suit. One man's aura overwhelmed them all.