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Su Ling stared at her phone, confused as the call abruptly ended. She had no idea what had just happened.
Tang Zi, who had been looking after her for a few days, knew Su Ling was exceptionally easy to care for—kind-hearted and gentle.
Though taking care of Su Ling was Tang Zi’s job, she was nearly ten years older and genuinely fond of the girl. Seeing Su Ling dazedly staring at her phone, Tang Zi lowered her voice and teased with a smile: “Boyfriend?”
Su Ling’s large, watery eyes widened in disbelief, and she quickly shook her head.
Who would dare be Qin Xiao’s girlfriend? That was terrifying.
Seeing her reaction, Tang Zi realized her guess was wrong.
On their way back, they chatted about the production. It was undeniable that The Prisoner set was far more exhausting than Twelve Years of Hustle . Since the story involved eight characters, everyone had to participate in every scene.
Interspersed with flashbacks and deductions, even those who had “died” in the plot still needed to remain on set to follow the filming schedule.
By the time the order of deaths unfolded, only three characters remained alive: the secretary, the doctor, and the thief.
Thus, Su Ling, Zheng Xiaoya, and Feng Lifei had the most screen time.
However, there was a difference. Zheng Xiaoya’s secretary was a positive character—relatively kind—while Su Ling’s doctor was an unscrupulous antihero desperate to survive.
It wasn’t just Su Ling who felt the cold; Zheng Xiaoya suffered too.
Those who had already “died” could at least wear warm clothes while remaining on set, but those still acting couldn’t.
The next day, Zheng Xiaoya claimed illness.
She refused to come to the set no matter what.
Out on the wilderness, the grass was a withered yellow. Dong Xu frowned and turned to Su Ling and the others: “Since Zheng Xiaoya isn’t here, let’s film the individual shots.”
Su Ling nodded. In truth, she had felt dizzy when she woke up that morning.
The temperature fluctuations in M City were extreme, and sometimes they had to shoot night scenes. Everyone was struggling.
But Dong Xu, like a machine, worked tirelessly and demanded perfection. No one dared complain. After all, Dong Xu was the type of director who could overwork himself into heatstroke.
By the time they finished shooting, it was dark again.
In one scene where they fought over water, no one managed to get the cup, and the water ended up splashing onto Doctor Le Yi.
When Su Ling stepped out of the sealed room, her arms were covered in ice shards. The pain numbed her senses.
Usually, Tang Zi took care of her. Each actor had their own nanny van.
But tonight, Tang Zi didn’t come forward to help her put on her coat.
Late autumn in November, nearing winter, the night wind howled.
The vast wilderness occasionally echoed strange sounds. Though the cold wind made her shiver, strangely, she felt comfortable.
Su Ling realized something was wrong—she seemed to have a fever.
Her vision blurred, and as she stumbled toward the nanny van, she collided into a warm embrace.
A man unbuttoned his trench coat and wrapped her tightly inside. His brows furrowed, his voice laced with coldness: “How did you get so frozen?”
Her words trembled: “Qin… Qin Xiao.”
His embrace was warm, the trench coat enveloping them both. Tang Zi was nowhere to be seen.
The night was pitch-black, the wind whistling outside. Su Ling faintly heard the props team exiting the sealed room. Still somewhat lucid, she knew Qin Xiao couldn’t be seen: “Go… go to the car.”
Qin Xiao carried her into the car and wrapped her in the coat Tang Zi had prepared.
He wasn’t skilled at caregiving, but luckily Tang Zi had explained what to do beforehand.
Qin Xiao turned on the car lights, poured warm water from the thermos, and gently brought it to her lips to drink.
She was freezing, her hands stiff from the cold. This time, she didn’t resist and sipped the water from his hand.
After feeding her, Qin Xiao reached out to touch her cheek.
She looked at him hazily, her eyes tinged with spring-like allure, her flushed cheeks blooming like peach blossoms in March. An inexplicable charm radiated from her.
Qin Xiao’s fingers brushed against her burning skin, and he inwardly cursed.
Quickly, he drove her back.
Su Ling drifted off to sleep in the passenger seat.
Sleep dulled the cold, and by the time Qin Xiao carried her upstairs, she was still unconscious. Tang Zi approached, surprised: “What happened to Su Ling?”
Qin Xiao glanced at her, his gaze icy.
Tang Zi shivered: “Mr. Qin…”
“Find a doctor for her.”
Tang Zi knew it was serious. Su Ling was likely sick, and that desolate place was indeed freezing. She hurried to fetch a doctor.
Qin Xiao swiped his card to open the door. The noise woke Su Ling slightly.
Qin Xiao turned on the air conditioning and moved to remove her coat.
Su Ling, though weak, was still aware enough to know who he was. She resisted, pushing his hands away.
Qin Xiao laughed bitterly. How much did she hate him? Even in this state, she was still wary of him? If he harbored any inappropriate thoughts now, he truly would be a beast.
She lacked the strength to fight him, her arms still aching.
“Don’t touch me. Get out.”
“Don’t be difficult. Be good.” Qin Xiao ignored her protests, removing her outer coat. He noticed she was still wearing the doctor’s white coat underneath—meant for summer. Su Ling hadn’t had time to change.
Her slender legs were exposed beneath the short skirt, which had ridden up to her thighs. Coupled with her fever-flushed face and crimson lips, she looked as if she had been thoroughly loved.
Qin Xiao’s Adam’s apple bobbed. He averted his gaze, pulling the bedspread over her.
He crouched down to remove her shoes.
She wore nude-colored high heels.
Her foot arches were bare, smooth as jade.
He couldn’t control himself; his hands trembled.
He admitted it—he was a beast.
Qin Xiao removed her high heels, holding her delicate feet in his hands. Her tiny, jade-white toes curled, exquisitely charming. But they were icy cold, like sculptures carved from snow.
Though feverish and weak, Su Ling was not unconscious.
She blushed deeply with shame and tried to pull her feet back.
Qin Xiao chuckled lowly, his laughter subdued. He lowered his head, afraid she’d see his expression, but his voice was soft as he coaxed her: “I won’t touch, I won’t touch.”
Efficiently, he removed her other shoe and placed both under the covers.
By the time he finished, he felt as if his body temperature matched hers. Tang Zi returned with the doctor.
The doctor first measured Su Ling’s temperature and frowned deeply: “It’s already 39.7°C—a high fever.”
Su Ling’s watery eyes gazed at her, and the doctor softened: “Can Miss Su handle an IV drip?”
“Yes,” she replied, her voice hoarse.
The doctor, part of the crew to handle emergencies, instructed Tang Zi to fetch the IV stand and medication.
Once they left, Su Ling closed her eyes.
She didn’t want to see the look in his eyes right now.
Qin Xiao felt a pang of heartache.
He knew filming was grueling, but he hadn’t realized it could be this tough. When she had collapsed into his arms, he thought he was holding a block of ice.
Qin Xiao couldn’t understand Su Ling’s dedication to acting or why someone would endure such hardship for some intangible dream.
He had never had dreams or hobbies. He disregarded societal rules and lacked empathy.
As retribution, after nearly twenty-eight years of living, he became obsessed with one thing.
He wanted to devour her, kiss her, possess her.
He craved domination, yet feared touching her. He dreaded seeing disgust or revulsion in her eyes.
Like a man dying of thirst in the desert, clutching his last drop of water, every inch of his body screamed for her, yearned for her.
Yet, with cruel clarity, he knew that if he truly touched her, everything would vanish.
In the end, he too would die—in this hopeless love.
He understood this insatiable craving, but he couldn’t transfer that emotion to Su Ling’s passion for acting.
Zuo Yin had asked him: “If you love her, can you understand her love for acting?” If one could grasp one kind of love, surely it could be applied to another.
He coldly replied: “No. That kind of thing—how dare it compare to her?”
“…” Damn, the twisted logic of a madman.
Tang Zi and the doctor soon returned.
The doctor hung the IV bag and prepared to insert the needle.
Qin Xiao frowned, dissatisfied: “Don’t touch her right hand. It’s red from the cold. Check it.”
The doctor didn’t recognize him. Ordinary doctors like her wouldn’t know what the president of the Qin Group looked like. Irritated by his interference, she snapped: “Shut up. Are you the doctor, or am I?”
“…” Tang Zi thought, holy crap, this is Mr. Qin. Mr. Qin, the man featured in financial magazines.
But Qin Xiao held his tongue, watching as the doctor pulled out Su Ling’s left hand, found a vein, and swiftly inserted the needle.
Su Ling wasn’t afraid of needles or IVs. She watched indifferently.
But Qin Xiao’s brows furrowed so tightly they could crush a fly.
After inserting the needle, the doctor said to Su Ling: “Let me see your left hand.”
Su Ling extended both arms, and the doctor examined them: “It’s nothing serious. Just frostbite. Warm it up, and it’ll be fine. The IV will take about five hours. Call me when it’s done.”
As the doctor packed up, she advised: “Don’t go to the set tomorrow. Wait until the fever subsides. Drink plenty of warm water and rest well. Director Dong should’ve been more careful. Everyone’s getting sick.”
Tang Zi hesitated, unsure whether she should leave.
Qin Xiao spoke: “I’ll stay.”
Tang Zi left, closing the door behind her.
Qin Xiao said: “Sleep for a bit. I’ll keep watch.”
But Su Ling, wide awake, stared at him with dewy eyes.
She didn’t want Qin Xiao watching over her—it felt like a nightmare.
She remembered her past life when she broke her leg. That time, she had caught a cold and developed a fever, worsening her injury.
Qin Xiao sat by her hospital bed, watching her silently through the night.
He didn’t turn on the light or speak, like a predator lurking in the darkness, teetering on despair.
He stared at her without moving for an entire night.
When the anesthesia wore off, she woke up in unbearable pain and saw him. His voice was hoarse: “Does it hurt? I’ll call the doctor.”
She shook her head, not wanting to see him, and slowly closed her eyes again.
She couldn’t understand someone like him. No matter how patient or calm she was, she wouldn’t stare at someone motionlessly through a silent, dark night. His obsessive nature seemed to declare that he could watch her forever—even beyond death, he’d chase her into the next life.
She was afraid of him.
She had been afraid then, and she was afraid now.
Su Ling blinked and decided to tell him: “But with you here, I can’t sleep.”
He sat beside her, stunned by her words.
The next moment, his expression softened, and he gently covered her eyes with his hand.
In the darkness, she heard his deep voice: “Then don’t look.”
Even if you despise him, don’t destroy his last shred of hope. Let him deceive himself a little longer.
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