Chapter 47: The Grace of a Beauty

One hundred and fifty meters, one hundred and twenty, one hundred...
The motorcycle’s speed continued to climb, surging above one hundred and fifty miles per hour, while the Cadillac showed no sign of slowing, nor did it make the slightest attempt to swerve away.
Hong Chen could now see with ever-increasing clarity the ruthlessness and resolve in the eyes of the man behind the Cadillac’s wheel. It was not hard to fathom his intentions: the Cadillac, heavier than an average sedan and with far superior safety features, had an obvious advantage in a head-on collision with a motorcycle. If Hong Chen wasn’t afraid, why should he retreat?
More crucially, Ji Yun was on the motorcycle as well. If they crashed, even if Ji Yun survived, she would be gravely injured—mission accomplished.
The person who issued the bounty had offered a prize of one hundred million dollars, a sum so vast it could drive countless people to wager their very lives.
With only fifty meters now between them, Hong Chen suddenly leaned low over the handlebars, tipping the motorcycle sharply downward. The powerful momentum carried it forward, and at the final moment, Hong Chen thrust himself off with a powerful kick.
The man in the Cadillac’s driver’s seat was momentarily stunned, then realization dawned, and his face twisted in horror—but it was already too late. The Cadillac, hurtling at over two hundred miles per hour, crashed headlong into the motorcycle, which had toppled and wedged its wheels beneath the car’s frame.
Bang!
It was as if a galloping horse had struck a tripwire. The Cadillac reared up, flipped once through the air, and crashed down heavily, the roof smashing against the ground and compressing the car’s height by over two feet.
But it wasn’t over—the powerful inertia forced the car nearly upright once more; failing to complete the flip, it toppled backward, bringing the roof down again and compressing it by yet another foot.
The Cadillac was mangled beyond recognition. The driver and two men in the rear were left in a state that could only be described as tragic, faces and heads covered in blood, all of them unconscious, their fates uncertain.
Meanwhile, Hong Chen had leapt clear of the motorcycle in time, turning in midair to shield Ji Yun in his arms as they rolled six or seven times across the ground. His injuries weren’t serious, but his appearance was utterly disheveled.
His clothes and trousers were torn, his skin abraded in several places, thin lines of blood trickling out.
Ji Yun, protected by him and her helmet, suffered nothing but the thrill—greater than any rollercoaster—emerging virtually unscathed.
Hong Chen got to his feet and strode over, delivering a violent kick to the fuel tank, which split open. He glanced inside the car, spied a jacket on the passenger seat, snatched it out, then tossed a lighter onto the car, setting it ablaze.
Bathed in the fierce glow of the flames, Hong Chen hoisted Ji Yun onto his back and, as nimble as a monkey, darted away into the wild fields beside the road.
After a swift trek of nearly a kilometer, he stopped at the edge of a secluded field, set Ji Yun down, and sat on the ground himself.

Hong Chen fished his phone, wallet, keys, and cigarettes out of his pockets, then stripped off his clothes, revealing a torso corded with muscle. Under the silver moonlight, Ji Yun could see the fresh, blood-streaked wounds that crisscrossed his body—the marks left by their recent tumble. A flicker of strange emotion passed through her bright, lively eyes.
“Brother Chen, it’s all because of me that you got hurt.” Her voice was soft, tinged with apology and self-reproach. Hong Chen glanced at her and, with a teasing smile, replied, “That’s right, you’re a regular deadweight.”
As he spoke, he took a silver needle and jabbed it into his wounds. With each prick, the bleeding stopped almost instantly. Ji Yun watched, hesitated, then took a small bottle of mineral water from her pocket and handed it to him. “Do you want to rinse your wounds?”
He looked up, taking in the deep worry in her delicate eyes, then glanced at the nearly empty bottle, an impish urge rising within him. He didn’t reach for the water, but instead said, “Plain water on wounds can cause infection. There’s no disinfectant, so I’ll have to use saliva. I’ve heard that women’s saliva is even better for disinfection than men’s.”
Ji Yun froze, her cheeks flushing red. Hong Chen had only meant to tease, and waved her off. “Just kidding.”
But while the words were said in jest, Ji Yun took them to heart. After a moment’s inner struggle, she made her decision, moved behind him, and before Hong Chen could wonder what she was doing, a warm, soft touch pressed against one of the wounds on his back. His body shivered involuntarily.
(Skipping a portion of the description here, lest it be rejected.)
There were six wounds on his back, each one tended to by Ji Yun’s gentle care. Then, she slowly moved to his side, her gaze falling on a particularly nasty gash on his arm. She hesitated, then whispered, “Brother Chen, turn your head away.”
He grunted in surprise, turning his head aside. When it came to the three wounds on his chest and abdomen, Hong Chen saw the deep blush that had overtaken Ji Yun’s face. He couldn’t bear to let her continue, so he coughed and said, “That’s enough—these aren’t deep, I’ll handle them myself.”
With that, he dabbed his own finger with saliva and applied it to the wounds. In truth, Hong Chen hadn’t intended to disinfect them at all—these were but superficial injuries to him, and stopping the bleeding was enough. But if he didn’t put a stop to it now, Ji Yun’s stubbornness might lead her to insist, and having her tend to his wounds right before his eyes would be its own kind of torment.
Ji Yun nodded slightly and didn’t press the matter, sitting quietly beside him, sipping her mineral water and gazing into the distance, though her sidelong glance never left Hong Chen’s movements.
Once he’d finished applying the needles, Hong Chen draped the jacket he’d taken from the car over his shoulders, lit a cigarette, and leisurely exhaled a few plumes of smoke. Suddenly realizing Ji Yun had been silent for quite some time, he turned his head and found her absentmindedly rubbing the bottle’s rim against her lower lip, lost in thought as she stared at him.
Hong Chen turned abruptly, catching her off guard. Their eyes met for a fleeting moment, and she quickly looked away, her blush deepening to an even brighter crimson.
Watching her, Hong Chen felt a ripple stir within him, a sudden impulse rising—but he quickly suppressed it, getting up to do some chest stretches as he walked away.
By the time he’d finished his cigarette, his mind was calm again. He returned and said, “We’re less than five hundred kilometers from the capital. Let’s find a car and drive through the night—we can be in the city in time for breakfast.”
Ji Yun had regained her composure as well; the girl was resilient and adept at concealing her feelings, nodding obediently without the slightest sign of anything amiss.
They set off, and in ten minutes, Hong Chen flagged down a Volkswagen Lavida at the roadside. With Ji Yun negotiating, the deal was quickly struck—Hong Chen bought the car outright for two hundred thousand, including the paperwork.

The rest of the journey went smoothly. Avoiding the main routes, Hong Chen deliberately took a long detour, and after seven hours, they finally entered the outskirts of the capital at eight in the morning.
He parked the car by the roadside while Ji Yun went to the restroom in a nearby eatery. Hong Chen bought some breakfast from a takeout window, and just as he’d paid, his phone rang—it was Lin Yuxin.
She got straight to the point: “When will you be home?”
Hong Chen remembered he’d said at least two days, so possibly today. After a moment’s thought, he replied, “I probably won’t make it back today—tomorrow, I think.”
Lin Yuxin was silent for a moment, then hesitantly said, “There’s something I need to tell you. There’s been a situation at home. The money you promised to deposit on the VIP card this week will have to be delayed. Is that a problem for you?”
“No problem,” Hong Chen replied offhandedly, then asked, “What happened at home?”
Lin Yuxin made it brief: “Yufei owed someone money outside. The payment’s due, and she only told me about it yesterday. I was caught off guard.”
“How much?”
“Don’t worry about it, I’ll handle it.”
Hong Chen grunted, “It’s fine on my end. Even if the boss finds out, I can explain. After this business trip, my relationship with him has gotten much closer. There was only one room at the hotel last night, so we had to share—”
“Brother Chen, I want that sticky rice ball!”
Just then, a crisp, youthful voice interrupted. Hong Chen reflexively agreed, then suddenly realized something and his expression froze.
Making a decision that would make him cringe for years to come, he hurriedly said into the phone, “My boss is here for breakfast—I’ve got to go!”