My online dating circle has millions of followers, why would she put a collar on me?

Su Xiaoyue threw off the covers and stepped barefoot onto the cold tile floor.

She looked down at the snow-white gauze wrapped around her wrist and gently touched it with her fingers.

The wound throbbed faintly under the gauze; the pain was dull and muffled, like being pricked with a needle through a thick layer of cotton.

But she didn't stop.

She started getting dressed.

The movements were slow, as if they were proceeding cautiously.

First, she picked up the off-white trench coat from the chair, and then she rummaged through the closet and found the light blue floral dress.

It's the same dress I wore yesterday. There are still barely visible wrinkles on the hem from when Jiang Yi's hand brushed against it during our hug at the airport yesterday.

She unfolded the skirt, put it over her head, but the zipper wouldn't budge halfway because her hands were shaking.

It felt like someone was pounding her chest hard, one blow after another, making her whole body tremble slightly.

The door was pushed open.

Gu Qinghan stood at the door carrying breakfast. The plastic bag contained two bowls of porridge and several steamed buns, and the steam condensed into a thin layer of mist on the transparent bag.

She was stunned when she saw Su Xiaoyue standing by the bed, clutching her skirt and with her trench coat scattered at her feet.

The plastic bag wobbled in her hand, and the porridge bowls collided with each other, making a dull thud.

"Xiaoyue? What are you doing?"

Her voice carried a cautious, uncertain, tentative tone.

Where are you going?

Su Xiaoyue looked up at her

Those eyes were still red and swollen like two peaches, but deep in their pupils was something Gu Qinghan had never seen before.

It wasn't the despair of last night, nor the emptiness of the early morning; it was a more scorching, more stubborn feeling, like a mass of something compressed to its extreme, bordering on obsession.

"Qinghan." Su Xiaoyue's voice was hoarse, like sandpaper scraping against glass, but every word was enunciated clearly, "Where is Jiang Yi?"

Gu Qinghan's fingers tightened suddenly.

The plastic bag made a screeching sound.

She came in, placed the breakfast on the bedside table, and turned to look at Su Xiaoyue.

Her lips moved a few times, as if she was choosing her words carefully, or as if she was suppressing some emotion that was about to burst forth.

"Xiaoyue, listen to me—"

"Where is he?" Su Xiaoyue's voice rose an octave, not as an interrogation, but as a plea closer to "Please tell me."

Gu Qinghan closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and slowly exhaled.

She mentally went over that sentence several times, then opened her eyes, looked into Su Xiaoyue's eyes, and said it out loud, word by word.

"Jiang Yi, he's the one who manipulated him. From the very beginning."

Su Xiaoyue's body stiffened.

"I've checked."

Gu Qinghan's voice was very calm, and she tried her best to keep it from trembling.

"That account was registered with his own ID card, the photos are his, and the chat logs were sent from his phone. Jiang Miaomiao is just a scapegoat he pushed out."

She paused, looking at Su Xiaoyue's face, watching the fire in her pupils gradually dim.

"Xiaoyue, we've been deceived by him from beginning to end. He's not innocent. He's in cahoots with his sister."

The ward was as quiet as a tomb.

Su Xiaoyue lowered her head, staring at her fingers gripping the hem of her skirt.

Knuckles turned white, fingernails dug into the fabric, leaving a row of deep marks.

She remained silent for a long time.

So long that Gu Qinghan thought she would never speak again.

Then she looked up.

His eyes were so red they looked like they were about to bleed, but no tears fell. His lips were trembling, but his voice was so steady that it didn't sound like someone who had just cut his wrists.

"So what?"

Gu Qinghan was stunned.

"I don't care about poverty."

Su Xiaoyue's voice was very soft, as soft as a feather about to fall, but every word was like a nail, hammering into Gu Qinghan's ears.

"I don't care if he manipulated it, I don't care if he's a liar, I don't care if he has a girlfriend."

"I just want to see him."

"Qinghan, I can't live without him now!"

Even if he lied to me, I don't care!

"You just want money? I have plenty of money!"

As she spoke, Su Xiaoyue pointed to the bank card placed on the cabinet.

Gu Qinghan looked over and saw that it was a black card with a credit limit of over 100 million.

Upon seeing the card, Gu Qinghan roughly understood that Su Xiaoyue's mother must have arrived.

Su Xiaoyue's dramatic change in attitude is very likely related to her mother.

Gu Qinghan opened her mouth, as if to say something, but it felt like something was blocking her throat.

She understood that there was no point in trying to persuade Su Xiaoyue at this point.

So he sighed and gave in.

"Xiaoyue," Gu Qinghan said, his voice hoarse, "He's at the Zhongshan branch."

Su Xiaoyue's eyes lit up.

"I'll take you to him," Gu Qinghan said.

She knew that if she didn't let Su Xiaoyue go today, Su Xiaoyue would hate her for the rest of her life.

Of course, that's not important. What's more important is that she's afraid Su Xiaoyue will try to commit suicide again.

The white ride-hailing car crawled slowly through the morning rush hour traffic.

Su Xiaoyue sat in the back seat, looking out the window at the gray sky, her fingers unconsciously gripping the hem of her skirt.

She didn't say a word; she hasn't uttered a single word since getting on the bus.

The car stopped at the entrance of the Zhongshan branch of the Public Security Bureau.

Gu Qinghan paid the fare, opened the car door, and a gust of cold wind blew in, making her shiver.

She went around to the back seat, opened the car door, and Su Xiaoyue got out of the car, stood at the bottom of the steps, and looked up at the gray-white building.

The building is small, four stories high, with light gray paint on the exterior walls. Above the main entrance hangs the national emblem, which gleams with a dark golden light in the hazy sky.

Su Xiaoyue did not move.

Gu Qinghan didn't urge her.

The two of them stood there at the bottom of the steps, like two saplings swaying precariously in the wind, their roots not yet firmly planted.

Then they heard a sound.

The sound of engines starting, from more than one car engine.

Two police cars drove out one after the other from the side gate of the branch office compound.

In front was an ordinary black sedan, and behind it was a white van with blue stripes and the word "Public Security" printed on its body.

Su Xiaoyue's gaze fell on the white van, and then she saw it.

The car windows were tinted, making it almost impossible to see inside from the outside.

But the rear window was slightly ajar, about two or three centimeters wide, and cold air blew in through it, causing the wisps of hair on the person inside's forehead to flutter slightly.

Su Xiaoyue saw that face.

Her heart felt as if it had been suddenly gripped in someone's hand. No.

It was a metaphor, but it really hurt. It hurt so much that she swayed, and she had to reach out and grab the cold metal lamppost next to her to keep her balance.

That's Jiang Yi.

But it wasn't the Jiang Yi she saw at the airport yesterday.

Yesterday at the airport, although Jiang Yi was nervous, reluctant, and his smile contained something she couldn't understand, he was at least clean, tidy, and looked like a normal person.

The face behind the car window looked ashen, like a crumpled piece of paper that had been barely smoothed out.

The dark circles under his eyes were so intense it looked like he'd been punched twice; his lips were dry and cracked; and there was a trace of blood at the corner of his mouth that hadn't been wiped clean.

His hair was a mess, like a bird's nest, with a few strands sticking to his forehead. His shirt was wrinkled and wrapped around his body, with the collar open, revealing a section of pale skin so thin that you could see the shape of his collarbone.

His eyes were half-open, his pupils unfocused, and it was unclear where he was looking.

His lips were moving slightly, as if he was saying something, or as if he wasn't saying anything at all.

Su Xiaoyue loosened her grip on the lamppost. She started running.

The wind brushed past her ears, making the hem of her trench coat flutter and her hair fly backward.

Her wrist ached, and new blood seeped from the wound under the gauze as she clenched her fist, spreading small, glaring red patches on the white gauze.

But she couldn't feel any pain.

Her eyes were fixed on the white van speeding away and the face on the verge of collapse behind the window.

"Stop the car!" Her voice was shrill, as if it would pierce the entire street. "Stop the car—!"