The figure before her began to blur. She wanted to reach for the pendant hanging around her neck—both an alarm and a tracker—but her hand was caught mid-air. Someone asked her, "What's wrong with you? Should you go rest for a while?"
Fan Jia bit her lip hard and forced a smile. "No need, President Zhou. Weren't you taking me to dinner? Let me think... Let's go eat first..." But she was already pulled into an embrace. Someone was stroking her face, whispering harshly, "Little girl, trying to leave? No chance. You're the one. We'll take it slow—there's plenty more fun to be had."
Summoning all her strength, Fan Jia shoved him away and bolted for the door. But after just two steps, he caught up, slapped her hard across the face, then grabbed her by the waist and dragged her toward the sofa. Fury surged through Fan Jia. Stumbling as she was, she drove an elbow into his chest, then followed with a punch straight to his face. President Zhou never expected this half-conscious, seemingly frail student to fight back. Blood gushed from his nose as he stumbled back, clutching his face in shock and rage.
Adrenaline took over. Though her head swam violently, dealing with this middle-aged scum was still within her capabilities. She snatched the large glass ashtray from the coffee table and swung it hard at his head. The first strike missed as he dodged awkwardly. Just as he opened his mouth to shout for help—"Quick, someone—" Fan Jia struck again with a backhand swing, hitting him squarely on the head. He staggered and collapsed to the floor.
Fan Jia rushed out the door, only to look up and see several figures approaching in the distance. Fortunately, stairwells flanked both sides. She shut the door behind her, turned, and dashed down one. Reaching the second floor, her legs nearly buckled. She knew she was on the verge of collapse. Her hand flew to her neck—and her entire body went cold. It was gone. The alarm and tracking pendant was gone. It must have been torn off during the struggle with President Zhou.
The second floor remained undisturbed, the hallway silent and empty. But footsteps were already closing in from above. Though she'd shut the door, how long would it hold? If they found President Zhou lying in a pool of blood, they'd come after her. Fan Jia's head throbbed, her limbs growing weak. Gritting her teeth, she clung to the last shreds of her consciousness, pushed open the nearest door, and slipped inside.
The room was dim and quiet, seemingly a storage space. Feeling her way along shelves, she inched toward the window. The faint, blurry light from outside gave her hope. This is the second floor. With my skills, jumping might only mean a broken bone. You Mingxu and the others will see me. The evidence can get out. Perfect. The injustice and tragic deaths of those two girls will finally be avenged.
She finally "crawled" to the windowsill, her vision darkening at the edges, on the brink of passing out. All she could hear was her own ragged breathing. She bit her lip again, the taste of blood spreading, then gripped the windowsill. Just as she tried to climb out, a sound came from behind. An icy hand wrapped around her waist from behind, and another clamped over her mouth.Fan Jia's eyes widened, tears welling up instantly. Yet she no longer had any strength to resist as the man slowly carried her back into the darkness. Through her dazed senses, Fan Jia heard footsteps rushing past outside the door. Unwilling to accept this, she tried to turn her head for one last look, but the man pressed her down firmly. During their struggle, they knocked over a nearby storage shelf, sending items clattering to the floor. Still, the man's hand remained tightly clamped over her mouth, holding her in an unyielding grip. Finally, darkness swept over Fan Jia's vision, and she went limp in his arms.
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