Chapter 20: Willing to Give Up Life, Without Hesitation

She stepped out of the pool unwillingly, barefoot and shivering, her red silk clinging tightly to her body like a second skin, every curve outlined in sensual precision. Her long hair hung loose over her shoulders, dripping water with a slow, hypnotic rhythm.

“Chu Ze… I’m so cold. That was terrifying—I almost—” She trailed off, already reaching to press her trembling body against Li Chuze’s back.

“Get away.”
Li Chuze’s clothes were soaked through, his tailored suit revealing the hard lines of muscle beneath. When he turned his head toward her, his eyes burned with a feral crimson—like a beast on the edge of fury. His voice carried the icy finality of a king mid-tempest.

Sanya froze at the sight. Her lips twitched nervously. “Chu Ze… w-what’s wrong with you?”

He didn’t answer. Instead, he walked straight out of the hall and into his car. Moments later, he emerged again—dressed now in dry, sharp black attire, gloves on his hands, a silent army of black-clad bodyguards trailing behind him like shadows.

“Xiao Li,” he said, glancing sideways toward the second floor of the Sa family mansion. “Clear everyone else out.”

Standing in the open-air courtyard below, Sanya wrapped herself in a towel, flanked by guards. Her eyes flickered with fear—but also defiance—as she locked onto Li Chuze. “What are you doing, Li Chuze?”

“What do you think? Are you blind?” He raised a hand. Instantly, his men surged forward, sprinting up the stairs.

The Sa family reacted instantly—ambush teams hidden in the walls, ceilings, even the floors, activated the moment they sensed the threat. The grand villa erupted into chaos. The Sa family members who’d been lounging upstairs vanished without a trace. Li Chuze had known the layout inside out—every corridor, every trap, every blind spot.

“Follow me,” he said, tightening his gloves. Then, from the small of his back, he drew a pistol. Long legs carried him swiftly toward a concealed passage at the rear.

Sanya had already been abandoned by her own family—her arms pinned down by Li Chuze’s men. The Sa clan, desperate for survival, scrambled toward their pre-planned escape route. But they hadn’t counted on one thing: this man wasn’t just some spoiled heir.

Just as the first sliver of light appeared ahead, a grin tugged at the Sa patriarch’s face—hope blooming in his chest.

Then, the cold muzzle of a gun pressed against his forehead.

His breath caught. His body locked. In the pale moonlight, he stared into Li Chuze’s face—calm, merciless, utterly devoid of mercy.

“How… how could you know?”

Li Chuze tilted his head slightly. His men moved in instantly, seizing the man and his entourage. “Take them away.”

No matter how loudly the Sa patriarch screamed, Li Chuze remained stone-faced. Back at the scene, most of the hired assassins lay dead. A few of Li Chuze’s men were wounded.

“You’ve done well,” he said, voice low. “Xiao Li, take them down for treatment. Make sure they’re comfortable.”

“Yes, boss.” Xiao Li led part of the team away.

Only four men remained beside Li Chuze. He stepped slowly toward the captured killers, his boots echoing across the marble floor.

“Alive or dead?” he asked.

They blinked, confused. After a pause, one finally spoke. “We don’t understand, Mr. Li. What do you mean?”

“Tomorrow, on live television—you’ll publicly expose everything the Sa family has done. Every lie. Every crime.” He handed his gun to a subordinate and began pulling off his glove.

At that moment—a bullet came flying from the shadows.

One of his men reacted fast, shoving Li Chuze aside. The bullet pierced the guard’s chest instead. It grazed Li Chuze’s arm, slicing through flesh and fabric alike.

Blood splattered across the floor. The man collapsed, eyes wide, lifeless. Blood dripped from Li Chuze’s arm, staining his glove, pooling at the fingertips.

The others snapped into defensive formation around him. Li Chuze stared at the body in silence. Flashbacks flooded his mind—scenes too familiar, too painful. He gasped, then snatched the gun from his man’s hand and leveled it at the remaining captives.

Gunfire rang out. Silence followed.

Li Chuze stood still. “Bury them properly. Clean up everything.”

Xiao Li brought him back to the mansion. Doctors rushed in. Afterward, Li Chuze dismissed everyone. The room dimmed. Footsteps echoed down the empty hallway—lonely, crisp, echoing like time itself.

Li Chuze sat in his study, back leaning against a fallen canvas on the floor, head bowed low. Minutes passed. Hours might have passed. No one knew.

“Tang Yan… you free tonight? Got an urgent matter to discuss.”
Tang Yan picked up the call right after finishing work.

“Yeah. Where and when?”

“The old café. Eight o’clock.”

That was all. Tang Yan hung up.

Since Li Chuze left on business, Tang Yan had no more restrictions. He wandered through the Li estate freely—no servant dared speak up. The mistress’s behavior had changed completely, like a different person altogether.

Tang Yan played the role of Su Xiao better than ever. “What is it?”

From the family archives, Song Xieling had overheard something dangerous. “I heard the company supplying our medicine got wiped out—by some unknown group. News will break tomorrow.”

“Wiped out? So tomorrow’s headlines will be full of bad press about that company. You’re not thinking of destroying evidence, are you?”

Tang Yan narrowed his eyes. Suspicion flared.

Song Xieling seemed calm, collected. “Don’t worry. I’ve got copies of everything. All I need is your help—to get my brother awake.”

Tang Yan studied him. He couldn’t make sense of why someone would risk everything—his family, his future—for this. “I asked my contact. The drug can wake him up temporarily—but the side effects are brutal. Could even kill him. Are you sure?”

Song Xieling hesitated. Tang Yan understood—he was torn. “Take your time,” she said gently. “Think it through.”

After a long silence, Song Xieling looked up, eyes blazing with resolve. “Yes. Let him take the drug. Let him wake up.”

Tang Yan frowned. She still didn’t get it. “You’re certain?”

Nodding firmly. “I’ll contact you tomorrow.”

After hanging up, Tang Yan returned home. Doubt gnawed at him. Then—his phone rang again.