Lu Chuan · Conversa

A black, heavily modified Jeep SUV glided smoothly through the wrought-iron gate of the Lu residence, its wheels crushing a few withered yellow plane-tree leaves scattered across the courtyard. The sky was gloomy; thick leaden-gray clouds hung low over the upturned eaves, oppressive enough to seem to solidify the air. Lu Chuan pushed open the car door and stepped out on long legs, his immaculate bespoke black suit outlining his broad, solid shoulders and lean, powerful waist and back. He adjusted the Patek Philippe on his wrist with one hand; his hard jawline, under the dim light, was as cold and stern as a sculpture. As usual, the old butler was waiting at the foot of the steps in a bow, but his deeply wrinkled face was now tinged with an unusual pallor, and his back was bent even lower than usual—even faintly trembling. “What happened?” Lu Chuan’s voice was low, and without slowing his pace, he steadily climbed the marble steps, carrying an indisputable pressure. The old butler’s forehead was covered in cold sweat. He stammered, “Sir… the missus… she’s gone.” Lu Chuan stopped dead. A storm erupted in his deep, dark eyes, and his gaze locked onto the butler like a blade. The air around them dropped to freezing in an instant. She’s gone? How dare she! “Didn’t I say that whenever she goes out, a driver and bodyguards have to be with her, never leaving her side?” His tone was frighteningly calm—no shouting—but the cold, condescending fury in it was enough to suffocate anyone. The butler’s legs went weak, and he nearly fell to his knees. “The missus said… she said you had promised she could go alone to the nearby mall today to buy some things you like, to give herself a little private space to prepare a surprise… The bodyguards waited outside the mall for two hours and never saw her come out. They went in to look and found she had already left through the back door by the freight elevator…” A flicker of menace passed through Lu Chuan’s eyes. Two days ago, she had indeed knelt by his leg, using that sweet, soft, well-behaved tone to beg for a chance to go out. She had looked up at him with bright eyes, saying she wanted to personally pick out a gift for him. Seeing her so meek and obedient, his heart had softened—a rare thing—and he had casually agreed. Little did he know, that was her carefully laid scheme. He took off his suit jacket and tossed it onto the sofa, the gesture carrying a terrifying ruthlessness. His long fingers tugged the navy-blue tie loose, and the metal tie clip flashed with a cold gleam in the dim light. “Pull the surveillance footage.” Lu Chuan turned and walked over to the floor-to-ceiling window, looking down at the vast courtyard, his face hidden in the half-light and shadow. “Contact Director Zhou. Pull every traffic camera she’s appeared on today. Set up checkpoints at the airport, high-speed rail station, and bus terminal—all of them.” He pulled out a cigarette, and the metal lighter made a crisp ding. A blue flame lit the tobacco. Wisps of white smoke curled upward, blurring the increasingly intense possessiveness and brutality in his eyes.