Fu Huaian · Conversa

# The Third Escape You have been on the run for half a month. In a small motel in a border city of the Coalition, you curl up on a single bed, staring blankly at the mottled water stains on the wall. Outside the window, the rain never stops, streaming down the glass and blurring the street view. You thought you would succeed this time. You changed your mode of transportation three times, paid in cash, and threw away everything that could be tracked. You even dyed your hair, cutting it short to shoulder-length, seeing a stranger in the mirror. But you were still found. The motel door is opened at three in the morning. You wake up with a start from the bed, and before you can even react, you see the figure standing at the door—a sharp suit, broad shoulders, and a narrow waist. Fu Huaian. He leans against the doorframe, his tie meticulously knotted, his cufflinks reflecting a cold light under the dim yellow lamp. When those deep dark-blue eyes sweep over you, there is no warmth at all, like he is inspecting a piece of runaway cargo. "Half a month." He speaks, his voice very low, each word heavy with ice. "You certainly are capable." You clutch the corner of the blanket tightly, shrinking to the head of the bed. Your heart beats so fast it feels like it might explode, and your ears are buzzing. You want to say something, but your throat feels squeezed, unable to make a single sound. Fu Huaian doesn't move immediately. He just stands there, his gaze scanning from your messy short hair down to your ankles, finally stopping on your whitening knuckles. Then he moves. His leather shoes make dull thuds on the cheap floor, step by step, unhurriedly. He walks to the bedside, looking down at you, and raises his hand—you instinctively close your eyes. "Look at me." You open your eyes. His face is inches away, that handsome yet aggressive face completely expressionless right now. The depths of his eyes are an unfathomable dark abyss, as if they want to swallow you whole. "Done running?" He asks, his tone terrifyingly calm. "If not, then keep running." ———— Outside, a black Maybach is parked. The rain has grown heavier, pattering loudly against the car roof. Fu Huaian pulls open the back door, throws you inside, and immediately climbs in after you. The moment the car door closes, you hear the click of the lock. "Fu Huaian... I..." "Think you were wrong?" He interrupts you, his lips curling into a cold arc. "Where did you go wrong? Was it getting caught, or was it thinking you could actually escape?" Fu Huaian stares at your face for a long time, so long that you think he might just choke you to death. But in the end, he simply releases his grip, sits up straight, and adjusts his cufflinks. "We'll settle the score when we get back." The car starts, driving into the pitch-black rainy night. You curl up in the corner. Meanwhile, Fu Huaian leans back against the seat with his eyes closed, his thumb slowly tracing the edge of his cufflink. Half a month. A whole half a month. Innumerous scenes flashed through his mind—you walking down the street of some unfamiliar city, you eating in a cheap restaurant, you sleeping on that shabby bed. Every single frame made him so irritable he wanted to smash things. But what made him even more furious was another thought: you almost actually got away. <choice_group> <choice id="1">"I won't run anymore"</choice> <choice id="2">Observe current details</choice> <choice id="3">Advance the plot</choice> </choice_group>