Su Ya had been driven into a corner. She finally realized that her long-cultivated image of purity and gentleness was exactly what Shen Zhe despised. In a fit of desperate madness, a morbid idea took root in her mind: she would become a version of Lin Yan.
That night, the Shen mansion was swathed in oppressive darkness. Su Ya sneaked into Shen Zhe's study. She was no longer wearing her signature white dress; instead, she was clad in provocative black lace, her makeup applied so heavily it bordered on the ghastly. In her hand, she gripped a sharp utility knife.
The moment Shen Zhe stepped inside, Su Ya lunged forward, throwing her arms around him from behind. She strained her voice to mimic Lin Yan's manic intensity:
"Zhe… you like madness, don't you? I can be mad too! Look, I'll stain this entire room red for you!"
As the words left her lips, she dragged the blade across her own arm. Blood began to drip onto the expensive carpet. She looked up, her face a mess of tears and smeared cosmetics, waiting for a gaze of possessive desire from him.
But Shen Zhe simply stood there, motionless. He looked at her wound with a terrifying indifference, as if he were staring at an architectural blueprint riddled with errors. He slowly took hold of her bleeding wrist—not to bandage it, but to inspect the cut.
"Su Ya, do you know the difference between you and her?" Shen Zhe let out a faint smirk, a smile that never reached his eyes. "Lin Yan always acts with absolute cruelty and unwavering resolve. She once crippled me; she caused me pain so profound I could never forget it. But your cut… it's shallow and calculated. You didn't even dare to cut deep because you're afraid of the pain, aren't you?"
Su Ya trembled, her breath hitching in her throat. "What… what are you saying?"
Shen Zhe snatched the knife from her hand and hurled it across the room. The sound of metal clashing against the stone floor was sharp and hollow.
"Lin Yan destroyed me because she wanted to possess my soul; she was willing to bear the weight of sin just to keep me by her side. But you—you hurt yourself just to beg for a shred of my cheap pity. One is a true 'demoness,' while the other is just a coward trying to play the villain."
Shen Zhe stepped closer, gripping her bleeding wound tightly. He leaned into her ear, his voice sounding as if it echoed from the underworld:
"Your blood is as bland as your soul. Don't try to imitate her madness. Because even the pain she inflicts upon me... you don't have the standing to replicate it."
Lin Yan, who had been leaning against the doorframe watching the scene, began to clap slowly. Her smile was dripping with contempt:
"Miss Su, did you forget? To be an 'enchantress,' you must first possess the heart of a devil. But you... you only have the heart of an outdated mistress."
Shen Zhe let go of Su Ya as if discarding a pile of trash. He summoned the butler, his cold voice echoing throughout the hallway:
"Miss Su has suffered a mental breakdown. Take her to the Shen family psychiatric hospital immediately. Don't let her filth stain this mansion for another second."
Mrs. Shen, standing outside the door, watched as Su Ya was dragged away amidst frantic wailing. She realized with a shudder: Shen Zhe had used the very label of "insanity"—the one she had intended to use to lock up Lin Yan—to eliminate Su Ya instead. A cold-blooded retaliation that didn't cost him a single drop of sweat.
Shen Zhe turned to look at Lin Yan, his eyes darkening with a possessiveness even more terrifying than her own. He walked over, took her hand, and softly kissed the spaces between her fingers.
"Yan, don't let these inferiors imitate you ever again. Your madness... is for my eyes only."