---
Lin Yue stirred awake to the sterile scent of antiseptic and the soft whir of medical machines.
Her eyelids fluttered open, revealing the dim light filtering in through a curtain-covered window.
It took a moment for her to register where she was.
The white ceiling above her wasn't familiar.
She turned her head slowly, her limbs sluggish and heavy, and that was when she noticed the luxuriously furnished private ward.
Confused, she blinked a few times before the memory of fainting slammed into her like a crashing wave.
She instinctively tried to sit up but winced as her muscles protested.
Just then, a familiar voice called her name softly.
"Lin Yue... you're awake."
She turned her head and found Mo Yuwei sitting beside her bed, concern deeply etched into her expression.
Her long dark hair was neatly pinned back, and she looked every bit the poised heiress—but right now, she looked more like a worried sister.
"You fainted," Mo Yuwei said gently.
"Don't move too fast," Mo Yuwei said, carefully helping her sit up with the remote-controlled backrest. "You fainted. Are you alright?"
"I... fainted?" Lin Yue asked, blinking as she tried to piece everything together.
Mo Yuwei nodded, then pressed the nurse call button by the bed. "You were just about to enter the private room at the restaurant when you collapsed. The doctor said you were exhausted, both physically and mentally."
---
Before she could answer, a doctor entered, a clipboard in hand.
"She just woke up," Mo Yuwei informed her.
The doctor smiled warmly. "How are you feeling, Miss Lin?"
"Just a little dizzy," Lin Yue murmured. "What happened?"
The doctor gave her a once-over, checked her pulse and gently placed a stethoscope on her chest.
"You fainted from exhaustion. Your body is overworked and your mind overstressed. You need to rest more, and most importantly, don't forget you're no longer just taking care of yourself."
Lin Yue's eyes widened with sudden fear.
Her baby?!
Her hand flew to her belly. "My baby? Is my baby okay?"
The doctor nodded. "Yes. Your baby is fine. But if you keep going like this, it might not stay that way. You need proper rest, nourishment, and emotional stability."
Relief flooded her, tears welling in her eyes.
She whispered a thank you, her hand staying protectively over her belly as the doctor left.
---
As she lay back against the pillows, her thoughts spiraled.
'Was she really taking care of her baby?' Her lips trembled. 'Had she been so consumed with the pain of losing Ah Yan that she forgot there was still someone left depending on her?'
She choked back a sob, her fingers stroking her stomach softly.
Her baby was okay.
Despite everything, her little one was still with her.
"I'm sorry," she whispered. "I'll do better. I'll protect you. I promise... I won't lose you too."
A bitter guilt coated her heart. She felt like a bad mother. She had been crying every day, skipping meals, overworking herself just to forget that cold, quiet apartment.
She turned her head to the side, staring out the window.
Maybe... maybe one day, Ah Yan will come back, she thought.
Her heart twisted painfully at the thought.
She wasn't sure now if it was hope or delusion keeping her going.
She didn't even realize Mo Yuwei had been watching her quietly all along.
Mo Yuwei gently took her hand. "You don't look well, Lin Yue. Worse than when we last met."
Lin Yue smiled faintly, but it didn't reach her eyes. "I'm fine. Just tired."
"You're not alone, Lin Yue," Mo Yuwei said, her tone soft but firm. "You can call me if anything happens. You don't have to carry everything by yourself. Consider me... a friend."
Lin Yue's throat tightened, and she nodded. "Thank you."
---
Four days ago…
Ah Yan drove down the street toward home, but he couldn't shake the feeling again.
That itch at the back of his neck.
Someone was following him.
He glanced into the rearview mirror.
The headlights behind him weren't just coincidental.
They'd been behind him for too long.
His jaw tightened.
Enough was enough.
Instead of turning toward home, he made a sudden detour, pressing his foot harder on the accelerator.
He took winding turns and sped through narrower roads until he reached the outskirts of town—a more deserted area where few ventured at this hour.
He brought the bike to a stop behind an abandoned warehouse.
Dust swirled in the headlights, and his breath came out in cold clouds.
Behind him, the roar of engines multiplied.
Three black vans screeched to a halt, followed by ten motorbikes that revved like hungry wolves. Doors slammed.
Shadows moved.
Men—too many to count—stepped into the dim light, surrounding him.
Ah Yan slowly stepped off the bike. Calm. Calculated.
He reached down to the corner of the fence where he'd seen a piece of rusted metal earlier.
An iron rod.
He picked it up.
"You've been following me for days," he said, voice like steel. "You want something? Come get it."
They didn't answer.
The men closed in.
The leader gave a signal.
The group lunged.
The first man lunged.
Ah Yan sidestepped with practiced ease, swinging the rod with deadly precision.
The man dropped.
Ah Yan moved like lightning.
Every strike was precise, every motion efficient.
He didn't have memories, but his body remembered. It moved with fluid precision, as if forged in battle.
A man lunged; he ducked and jabbed his rib.
Another swung; he caught the arm, twisted, snapped.
He spun, ducked, parried, and struck.
The iron rod clanged against bones.
Groans echoed in the empty lot.
He was outnumbered, yet not outmatched.
---
On the highway outside the city, a sleek car sped forward, the tension inside as thick as smoke.
A young assistant sat beside a middle-aged man whose icy eyes had narrowed into slits.
"Master," the assistant whispered nervously, "we just received word... Young Master is surrounded. They found him."
The man's knuckles cracked ominously.
"I've already dispatched our men. They'll be there soon. Please don't worry."
The man said nothing.
His silence more terrifying than any outburst.
---
Back in the warehouse lot, Ah Yan panted, blood dripping from a cut on his brow.
Of the almost fifty men, barely fifteen remained.
His muscles ached. His lungs screamed. But he didn't stop.
He spun, blocked, punched, dodged.
Blood trickled from a cut on his arm. Still, the numbers thinned.
He gritted his teeth. Just a little more...
---
Then suddenly—a sharp whistle echoed. A fleet of black SUVs screeched to a stop at the entrance.
Men in perfectly tailored black suits poured out, all moving in synchrony.
The attackers froze.
Ah Yan stumbled back, breath ragged.
The men in suits didn't hesitate. They raised firearms and surrounded the remaining thugs.
"Young Master!" they shouted in unison before opening fire.
Chaos erupted.
The remaining attackers tried to flee but were cornered and taken down swiftly.
In the chaos, Ah Yan stood frozen, his iron rod falling from his hand.
Young Master? The words echoed in his mind.
Flashes exploded behind his eyes.
Men kneeling before him. Blood on marble floors— fights, orders, bloodied hands, voices yelling his name in reverence.
But the scenes were blurry.
Fragmented.
Someone behind him shouted firing, "Young Master! Watch out!"
He turned—but too late.
A brick cracked against the back of his skull.
Darkness consumed him.
He fell forward, collapsing into the arms of the suited men.
---