By the time it was over, the small, humble room had fallen deathly silent.
Lin Che's grandmother lay motionless on the cold floor, her frail body curled unnaturally, blood seeping beneath her like a spreading shadow. The men showed no restraint, no hesitation—age, sickness, and fragility meant nothing to them. To them, she was merely an obstacle to be crushed.
Her chest rose and fell with difficulty, each breath a struggle dragged from deep within her lungs. Her vision blurred, darkened, then sharpened again when a pair of polished heels stepped into view.
Second Madam Gong's sharp shoes stopped just inches from her face.
The woman bent down slowly, her movements unhurried, as though savoring the sight before her. Her voice was low, cold, and precise.
"If your granddaughter has even the slightest sense of shame," she said, "tell her not to accept Zhu Wenhai's offer. If she dares step into that film… then this will only be the beginning."
For a moment, the old woman did not respond.
Then—she laughed.
The sound was hoarse, broken, tearing its way out of a chest already pushed to the brink. It echoed strangely in the small room, hollow and unsettling, as if it came from somewhere far deeper than pain.
Second Madam Gong froze.
The laughter did not sound like madness. It sounded like defiance.
For the first time since she arrived, something flickered in Second Madam Gong's eyes—unease, quickly buried, but unmistakable.
The grandmother lifted her bloodied face slightly, her gaze sharp despite the pain.
"You really picked the wrong person to look down on," she rasped. "If you want hell… then go provoke my Lin Che."
Her lips trembled, but her voice did not.
"But if you want peace for the rest of your life," she continued softly, "then I advise you not to touch her."
It sounded like a warning.
Second Madam Gong stared at her for a long second—then laughed.
She straightened, amusement curling her lips as she turned to the men behind her.
"That girl?" she said disdainfully. "Before she even makes a move, I'll already crush her."
Her eyes hardened.
"This is not a warning to her—it's a command. Tell her to stop touching things that don't belong to her. If she insists on ruining my plans…" She paused, then smiled cruelly. "Then she can't blame me for being ruthless."
She turned to leave.
Just as they reached the doorway, a voice rang out from outside.
"Lin Che's grandma! Lin Che's grandma!"
Laughter accompanied the call—bright, unaware, carrying village gossip and excitement.
Second Madam Gong's expression darkened instantly.
"Let's go," she ordered.
The men moved quickly, slipping out of the house.
The woman calling out was a villager who often chatted with Lin Che, someone who liked her warmth and diligence. She had come with fresh news, her steps light—until she saw the strangers emerging from the house.
Her smile vanished.
Panic prickled her spine.
When she looked more closely at the elegant woman leading them, recognition hit her like a stone.
It was her.
The woman who had once taken Gong Rui away from the Zhang household.
The woman the village had whispered about ever since the banquet.
Anger surged.
The entire village had been furious on Lin Che's behalf after learning about the engagement announcement. They had nowhere to direct that anger—until now.
"What do you think you're doing here?" the villager demanded, stepping forward. "Don't you know you're not welcome in this village?"
Second Madam Gong glanced at her as one might glance at an insect—annoyed, insignificant. She said nothing and walked past.
The villager's chest heaved with frustration.
Then she noticed it.
A dark red stain dripping slowly from the hand of one of the men.
Her blood ran cold.
She turned and ran back inside.
What she saw made her scream.
The old woman lay collapsed on the floor, bruised, bloodied, barely breathing.
"Oh my god—help! Help!" the villager cried, dropping to her knees beside her.
Lin Che's grandmother stirred weakly. With trembling fingers, she clutched the villager's sleeve and whispered something into her ear—soft, urgent, broken.
Then her hand fell limp.
"HELP!" the villager screamed again, rushing outside. "Someone help—quickly!"
The village was tightly knit. Doors opened. Footsteps thundered. Voices overlapped in panic.
They lifted the old woman carefully, fear written on every face.
Someone called for a car.
Someone else ran ahead.
They rushed her toward the nearest city hospital, but no one dared speak of hope. The air was thick with dread, every face grim, every heart heavy.
Far away, unaware of the storm tearing through her world—
Lin Che scrubbed the floor.
She and Nan Lu had already finished three rooms, the surfaces gleaming under the lights. Sweat dampened their hair, their arms aching, but their movements remained efficient.
When the contractor came by, he was stunned.
"With this speed," he said, shaking his head in disbelief, "you'll be done in just a few days."
Nan Lu grinned. "Of course. We're the village's best working duo."
Lin Che smiled too, though exhaustion tugged at her bones.
The contractor laughed, then glanced at the cabinet nearby. "By the way, your phones have been ringing nonstop."
Lin Che's smile faded.
She rushed over and picked up her phone.
Missed calls filled the screen.
Her fingers trembled as she dialed back.
The village chief answered immediately. "Lin Che, where are you? Come to the hospital—quickly."
Her heart dropped.
"What happened?" she asked, her voice shaking. "What's wrong?"
Nan Lu, standing beside her, had already called home.
Her mother's voice broke through the phone. "Lulu, have you seen Lin Che? Tell her to get to the hospital right now."
The two women looked at each other.
No more words were needed.
They ran.
The contractor called out after them, confused. Lin Che turned back briefly, breathless. "Something happened to my grandmother. We need to go."
Understanding flashed across his face. "Go. We'll talk tomorrow."
Lin Che was already running.
Her footsteps echoed wildly as she burst out of the building, heart pounding so hard it felt like it might tear free.
With every step, a terrible certainty grew heavier in her chest.