Chapter 2: The Gift Behind the Curtain
1443 Words
Chapter 2: The Gift Behind the Curtain
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The light in the hall felt too loud.
Lin Yueqin couldn’t hear the chatter anymore. Not really. Not even the music. The noise had fallen into a low, strange hum like her ears had sunk underwater. Her feet moved without thought. She didn’t want to run, but something in her chest said she had to. That if she stayed one second longer—just one—she might shatter into something people would step on without looking.
She turned.
Ji Zhenkai had his arm slung around Qiao Nianyu’s waist, as though it belonged there. Like it had always belonged there. They were walking toward her, or maybe toward the rest of the world. But to her, it felt like they were walking across her ribs.
She couldn’t breathe.
And then she ran.
She didn’t know how far her legs carried her. She didn’t even remember moving. Her vision tilted. Her head swam again—maybe from the wine, maybe from whatever had cracked inside her heart.
She didn't notice the men until one was suddenly right in front of her.
Dressed in sharp black suits. Faces like stone. Moving together, like wolves scenting something.
She bumped into one. Hard.
“I—I’m sorry…”
But her words never reached him.
“That’s her. We found her,” the man muttered, grabbing her arm. “Take her away.”
Take her?
What did that mean? What did they mean?
She blinked. “You’ve got the wrong person—wait—let me—!”
Her voice thinned, choked. She tried to pull back, but her limbs had turned to seaweed. Her pulse fluttered like wings trapped in her throat.
She struggled.
No good.
The world tipped.
Everything went soft.
Everything went dark.
Elsewhere in the hotel. Much higher up.
A soft chime broke the silence.
The elevator doors opened on the presidential floor, releasing a wave of cold air and presence. One man stepped out, followed by an invisible wall of staff and bodyguards. They parted like water around him, letting him lead the way down the carpeted hallway.
He was tall. Not just tall—structured. Chiseled features that didn’t need kindness to be beautiful. Sharp cheekbones. Icy eyes. A mouth that looked like it had never smiled for real.
Ji Zhenkai didn’t walk. He prowled.
His custom-made black suit had platinum buttons that shimmered like distant stars under the crystal chandelier. Even his tie was knotted in precision. But he wore the elegance with carelessness, like he hadn’t even looked in the mirror.
When the door to the suite opened, he didn’t pause. He just stepped in, loosened the tie around his neck, and flung it toward the open closet.
But something—off.
His body reacted before his thoughts did.
A sudden heat stirred under his skin, uninvited. Wrong.
His brows drew together.
Click.
The lock on the door sounded behind him.
He turned quickly, already reaching for the knob.
Locked.
He jiggled it harder. No response.
Twice. Three times.
Still locked.
His eyes narrowed into something darker than suspicion.
Then his phone rang.
He looked at the screen.
Yannick Luther.
He answered without greeting.
“What the hell are you doing?” he asked flatly.
The voice on the other end grinned through the receiver, casual and maddening.
“Zhenkai, relax,” came Yannick’s drawl. “Frank and I prepared a little welcome-back gift for you. You’ll thank us later.”
Ji Zhenkai’s jaw set.
“Open the door.”
“No can do, my friend.” The voice became sing-song. “Frank’s betting you’ll walk out of there before dawn. I said no way. You’re a cold bastard, Zhenkai. You’d rather turn to stone than touch a woman.”
Another voice broke in on the call, crackling with mischief.
“I’m betting on you, Zhenkai. Don’t ruin my odds.”
The line went dead.
Ji Zhenkai stared at the phone in his hand. He didn’t bother calling back.
Instead, he turned toward the source of the strange sound he’d been half-ignoring. Water. It was running.
From the bathroom.
His breath came a little slower now. Not from surprise. From calculation.
He took one step forward.
Then another.
He placed his hand on the bathroom door.
The metal felt too warm.
He pushed the door open.
And then—
He stopped.
Right there.
Mid-step.
Eyes caught. Thoughts scattering.
And everything after that hung in stillness.
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Steam clung to the air like breath on glass.
The light inside the bathroom wasn’t bright. It spilled out from the sconces like moonlight dragged across marble. And in the middle of it—
A girl.
Curled on the floor.
Soaked.
Barefoot.
Her dress clung to her skin like it didn’t want to let go. Damp strands of black hair stuck to her cheek. Her breathing was soft, uneven. Not asleep. Not quite awake either. Her shoulder leaned against the glass wall, and her lips were parted like she’d been speaking to someone in a dream.
Lin Yueqin.
Ji Zhenkai didn’t move at first. Something about the moment had an eerie hush. Like walking into a painting and realizing the subject was still alive.
What the f**k was this?
He took one more step forward.
Her eyes fluttered, not fully opening. Her brows pulled together faintly, the way people do when their body is aware before their mind.
She whispered, almost too soft to hear, “Don’t touch me…”
Her voice sounded dry. Cracked. Afraid.
Zhenkai’s gaze narrowed. He looked around the room. Nothing made sense. Her makeup was smudged. Her heels were gone. She was trembling, even though the room was warm.
He pulled a towel from the rack and threw it around her shoulders.
Still no reaction.
“Lin Yueqin,” he said slowly, his voice edged with a chill, “who did this?”
She blinked, finally. Just once.
But her head fell to the side, her cheek brushing the cold tile like a child too tired to stay awake. She didn’t answer.
Zhenkai exhaled through his nose, long and tight.
Whatever this was, it wasn’t part of the joke his friends had planned.
And it sure as f**k wasn’t a gift.
He bent down and picked her up. She was lighter than she looked. Limp, like a puppet with its strings cut.
Her arms didn’t wrap around his neck. Her hands didn’t grip his shirt. She just rested there, her breath soft against his collar.
Ji Zhenkai stood up, carrying her toward the bed. He set her down carefully, as if too much movement would undo her.
Then he took off his suit jacket and laid it over her.
It wasn’t until she stirred again that her body gave out a soft whimper.
Then she gasped.
Her eyes flew open, wide, wild. Her breath caught.
She tried to sit up, but her arms failed her. Her legs kicked under the blanket. Her voice cracked as she shouted, “Get away from me!”
Zhenkai didn’t touch her.
He just stood there.
“I didn’t do anything,” he said, voice level.
Her eyes locked on his face.
Recognition flickered.
Her lips trembled, like she wanted to believe him but didn’t know how. Then her expression crumpled. She pulled the jacket tighter around her, curling into herself like she could disappear.
“I don’t know what happened,” she said. “They took me… I didn’t… I thought…”
She didn’t finish.
Tears welled up, but she blinked them away like they were something shameful.
Zhenkai’s eyes dropped to her wrists.
There were faint red marks. Not deep, but real.
Someone had grabbed her too hard.
His face darkened.
He stepped away and pulled out his phone.
He didn’t bother calling Yannick.
He called He Zemin, his personal guard.
“Presidential suite. Ten minutes,” he said. “I want surveillance. I want names. And if this was a setup...”
He didn’t finish the threat.
He didn’t have to.
Behind him, the girl was still shaking.
He didn’t ask questions. Not yet.
He poured a glass of water and placed it on the nightstand next to her.
“I won’t ask if you’re alright,” he said. “You’re not.”
Then he turned and walked to the window, back straight, shoulders tight.
Outside, the city sparkled. Inside, the room was a cage of silence.
And between them—two strangers bound by someone else’s game.
But Ji Zhenkai wasn’t the type to stay a pawn.
And Lin Yueqin was not going to be a casualty.
Not tonight.
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- Writer
