Unknown Location - Luxury Bathroom
Tòumíng woke up with his head pounding, his mouth tasting like chemicals, and his hands bound behind his back around what felt like a steel support beam.
His vision was blurry at first, swimming in and out of focus as whatever sedative Yu had sprayed gradually wore off. He blinked repeatedly, trying to clear his sight, trying to orient himself.
He was in a bathroom. But not a normal bathroom. A VERY big luxury bathroom.
The kind of bathroom that belonged in a mansion, not an apartment. The bathtub alone was massive, easily 5000 gallons, more like a small communal bathhouse than something for personal use. It had jets. Multiple faucets. Gold-plated fixtures that probably cost more than a car.
The shower was equally absurd, a walk-in space big enough for ten people, with rainfall showerheads, body jets, a built-in bench made of what looked like marble.
Everything was impeccable. Pristine. The kind of cleanliness that came from professional staff maintaining it daily.
This definitely wasn't Yu's apartment. That place had been nice, but this was on a completely different level of wealth.
Tòumíng's brain was still foggy, still trying to piece together what had happened. The cats. The spray. Passing out. Being moved here while unconscious.
Shit. Cupid was right. It WAS a honey trap.
Before he could think more about his situation, the bathroom door opened.
Two Black Hawk agents entered—both wearing the standard all-black tactical gear, their faces partially obscured by masks. They moved with professional efficiency, unlocking Tòumíng's restraints from the steel beam and immediately pulling him to his feet.
His legs were unsteady—the sedative still affecting his coordination—but they didn't care. They grabbed his arms, twisted them behind his back, and marched him out of the bathroom.
The hallway beyond was equally luxurious—hardwood floors, expensive artwork on the walls, the kind of interior design that screamed "I have more money than most people will see in their lifetime."
They reached a bedroom. And not just any bedroom. A MASTER bedroom.
The room was enormous. Vaulted ceilings. A seating area with a couch and chairs. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking what appeared to be a private estate. And dominating the space was a bed—an Alaskan King, the largest standard bed size available, with an ornate bed frame that looked hand-carved and probably cost six figures on its own.
The agents released Tòumíng and shoved him toward a leather couch facing the bed. He stumbled forward, catching himself on the armrest, and collapsed onto the cushions.
He immediately rotated his arms, checking for damage, wincing at the soreness in his shoulders from being restrained. He side-eyed the Black Hawk agents who were standing by the door.
"Go ahead and break my arm while you're at it," he muttered sarcastically. "Really complete the experience."
The agents didn't respond. They just turned and left, closing the door behind them with a heavy click.
Tòumíng sat on the couch, alone, his heart rate gradually increasing as the reality of his situation sank in.
He'd been drugged. Kidnapped. Brought to some mansion. Tied up in a bathroom. Now sitting in a bedroom waiting for... what? Interrogation? Torture? Execution?
Two minutes passed. The longest two minutes of his life.
Then the bedroom door opened again.
And she walked in.
The Ice Queen. Xuě Bào.
Tòumíng had never seen her in person before—had only made monthly payments through intermediaries—but there was absolutely no doubt who this was.
She was breathtaking in a way that transcended normal beauty and entered some uncanny valley of perfection that shouldn't exist in nature.
Her hair was pale blonde, almost white, with natural curls that fell past her shoulders in waves that looked both effortless and meticulously maintained. Her skin was similarly pale, almost albino in tone, with a smoothness that seemed impossible. Not makeup-smooth. Not filter-smooth. But genuinely, naturally perfect, without visible pores or imperfections.
She looked like she'd been carved from marble by a master sculptor and then brought to life.
Her body matched her face, she was tall, easily 6'1" without heels, wearing a designer dress that clung to curves that seemed mathematically calculated for maximum impact. The kind of hourglass figure that appeared in fantasy art more than real life. Massive breasts. Impossibly slim waist. Wide hips.
She moved with liquid grace, each step deliberate, her presence filling the entire room despite her silence.
She walked to the Alaskan King bed and sat on the edge, crossing her legs elegantly, her hands folded in her lap.
And she stared at him.
Not spoke. Just stared. Her eyes—pale blue, almost gray—locked onto Tòumíng's face with an intensity that made his skin crawl.
Tòumíng stared back, his brain scrambling to understand what was happening.
Then it clicked.
Oh shit. I owe her money. 10,000 yuan every month as per the loan agreement with the three loan sharks. And I've been... have I been paying? Fuck, when was the last payment? Was I late? Did I miss one entirely because of all the chaos?
She was probably mad. VERY mad. Rich people didn't appreciate being stiffed on debts.
Shiiiiiiiit.
She kept looking at him, not blinking, her expression unreadable. The silence stretched, becoming oppressive.
Inside Tòumíng's chest, Cupid's voice cut through quietly, almost resigned. "It's been nice knowing you."
"What?"
"I can sense murderous intent. This woman wants you dead. Or worse. The emotional energy coming off her is... it's bad, Tòumíng. Really bad."
"Fuck."
But then—suddenly, unexpectedly—the Ice Queen's expression changed.
Her cold, analytical stare transformed into something else entirely.
A smile. Slow. Sultry. The kind of expression that didn't belong on someone who moments ago had been radiating barely-contained violence.
Her eyes remained locked on his, but now they carried a completely different energy. Not murderous. Not angry.
Predatory.