Chapter 17: Wen Xuxu Killed Herself

Wen Xuxu’s eyes were bloodshot, her gaze fixed not on the woman before her, but on her son across the room.

“Yin Yin,” she called out, voice trembling with urgency. “Come here—let Auntie see you. Hurry up, come let Auntie look at your hands!”

“Oh, still trying to get the kid to confirm things? Let me tell you—this boy’s always been a handful. A little bump here, a scrape there—it happens all the time. If you’re counting on this to prove anything against me, don’t expect anyone to believe you.”

The woman sneered, tossing in another barb with icy precision.

Wen Xuxu heard it—and snapped.

“Shut up! You hear me, Gu Xia? Do you know what you’ve done? You know better than anyone else. Back then, I wasn’t around. But now that I’m back—I won’t let you hurt him again. You listen to me *clearly*!”

Gu Xia: ……

That stare… God, it was terrifying.

Her eyes were red as fresh blood, pupils like shards of glass, sharp enough to cut through bone. For a split second, a wave of pure, unfiltered killing intent surged from them—so intense that even Gu Xia flinched, a cold shiver running down her spine.

This bitch had to go. She’d said it from the start—she couldn’t be allowed to live.

“Seal it off completely. No cracks, no gaps. Do you understand what this means? She’s *our* CEO’s property. Even if she’s dead by the time we’re done, she doesn’t walk away!”

Furious, Wen Xuxu barked orders at the guards, demanding they block the window shut tight.

Inside, Wen Xuxu lunged toward the glass, clawing at the air with desperate hands.

“Yin Yin! Come here—come let Auntie see you! Yin Yin—”

Huo Yinyin: ……

He stood frozen, confused. Why was this woman so frantic?

Hadn’t Aunt Gu always acted like this? What was wrong with that?

The boy, quiet and withdrawn, rarely spoke or played with others. He’d spent most of his life locked in his room, and to him, everything Gu Xia did felt… normal.

“Yin Yin, please—come here, let Auntie see you…”

Wen Xuxu was begging now, tears streaming down her face as she shoved past the guards, fighting to see her son.

This was the child she’d carried for nine months. The one she’d abandoned at birth—never once fulfilling her duty as a mother. How could she have left him in the hands of such a cruel woman?

Her voice cracked, raw with pain.

“Yin Yin… come here… Mom… Auntie’s begging you… just let me see you…”

Something shifted.

At five years old, Huo Yinyin stared into the window. And he saw those eyes—tears rolling down like blood-soaked pearls, weeping not just tears, but something deeper, more ancient.

He felt it—the warmth, the love, the fierce, desperate care. It was unlike anything he’d ever known.

Slowly, hesitantly, he lifted his small foot.

But just as he took his first step forward—Gu Xia moved.

She bent down in an instant, snatching the boy up with lightning speed.

“Seal it. Lock it tight. If I see her again, you’re out of the company. *Ever.*”

With those words, she turned and walked away, cradling the child in her arms.

Inside the cabin, Wen Xuxu collapsed to her knees, heart breaking, rage boiling over until she thought she might pass out.

Huo Sijue—do you *really* have no eyes? Why did you bring this monster into your life? Don’t you care about your own son? That’s *your* blood!

When the last sliver of light vanished behind the sealed window, Wen Xuxu fell to the floor, sobbing uncontrollably.

—

By the time Huo Sijue received the news, Wen Xuxu had already gone without food or water for a full day.

She wanted to see him.

“See me? Why? Is it because of what happened this afternoon? Does she think Gu Xia hurt Yinyin?”

Sitting on the sofa with long legs crossed, the man—still weak from illness—didn’t even lift his head when he heard the news. His voice came out flat, almost bored.

Xiao Lin broke into a cold sweat.

Right. Gu Xia had already reported the incident herself earlier that afternoon. She’d brought Yinyin along, explaining how she’d pulled him inside after he nearly flew a drone off the deck—her actions, she claimed, had been a bit rough, but nothing serious.

Xiao Lin had dismissed it. Done.

But neither of them expected what happened two hours later.

“Sir—something’s wrong! That woman… she’s cut her wrists!”

“What?!”

The man, hunched over his computer, finally looked up. For the first time in days, his expression cracked—just slightly.

Cut her wrists?

Wow. She was willing to carve into her own flesh now. What the hell was she trying to do?

Huo Sijue stood abruptly, face pale, storm clouds gathering behind his eyes.

A few minutes later, he arrived at the locked cabin.

He expected chaos—shouting, screaming, maybe even violence.

Instead, when the door swung open, he froze.

The room was a mess—furniture overturned, glass shattered, papers scattered like confetti.

And in the middle of it all, lying motionless on the floor, was a woman.

Her face was hollow, her skin gray, her eyes blank—like a flower long dead, brittle and broken beyond repair.

“Wen Xuxu,” he said, stunned. “What the hell are you doing?”

His gaze darted to the crimson pool beside her hand—thick, glistening, spreading slowly across the floor.

Without hesitation, he dropped to his knees, grabbed her wrist, and pressed his fingers hard against her pulse.