Chapter 2

My consciousness started to blur.

In a daze, I seemed to have returned to those days abroad.

It was a dangerous place, but full of vitality.

When I was five, I was abducted and trafficked, eventually ending up at the border. It was Old Hawk who pulled me out among a pile of corpses.

He thought I was filthy, but he gave me half a piece of hardtack.

My adoptive father, Old Hawk, was a man of few words, and also one of the world's top marksmen.

He taught me how to assemble a Glock in three seconds. He said, "A gun is a partner more reliable than people."

My adoptive mother, TNT, was an elegant lunatic.

She taught me how to make liquid bombs from supermarket detergent.

She said, "If anyone bullies you, blow them up. No need to reason with them."

And then there was Eason, my sworn brother who crawled out of the same pile of corpses.

He always saved the best meat for me. With a smile, he would break the arms and legs of anyone who made me cry.

Those days of living on the knife's edge yet wrapped in love, I had given them up with my own hands because I craved so-called "blood kinship".

I thought that with blood ties, I could have a real family.

I abandoned the identity of "Red Fox" and played the part of the obedient, timid biological daughter of the Lingard family.

Shawn once handed me a glass of water when I had a fever. I was moved to tears.

I thought that was family warmth, but reality gave me a hard slap on the face.

I later learned that the water was leftover from Janice. Shawn only gave it to me because Janice found it too hot.

A sharp pain shot through my body, yanking me out of my memories.

It wasn't the warmth of rescue, but the sharp pain of metal hitting bone.

Crack.

A rescue worker's metal shovel slammed hard into my thigh.

I let out a muffled groan, my consciousness partially returning.

I was dragged roughly out of the snow. There was no stretcher, no emergency treatment like I'd imagined.

The rescue worker looked at me with disgust.

"You're lucky to be alive after being buried that long. We wasted half an hour rescuing you. Mr. Lingard is furious."

He didn't even give me basic first aid or bandaging. He just tossed me carelessly onto a cart used for transporting supplies.

After a bumpy ride, I was hauled back to camp.

The medical tent was right in front of me. Warm yellow light spilled out from inside, along with the roar of a heater.

Two bodyguards dragged me in. The warmth hit my face, but it wasn't meant for me.

Janice was wrapped in a thick cashmere blanket, sitting in the only cushioned chair. She was surrounded by doctors and nurses, all wearing tense expressions.

"Miss Janice, does it hurt?"

"Quick, bring the best ointment!"

I struggled to lift my eyelids.

Janice had merely scraped her finger, not even enough to draw blood, yet the only emergency heater in the tent was blowing directly on her finger at full force.

I was soaked through, curled up on the muddy ground in the corner of the tent, the wound on my thigh gaping with torn flesh. No one paid me any attention.

Gary saw my miserable state when he hurried past me. He paused briefly, then casually tossed me an old towel stained with dirt.

"Wipe yourself. Don't dirty the carpet. Mr. Lingard is keeping Miss Janice company while she's receiving therapy. Don't bother them, it'll do you no good. Stay in this corner and don't go anywhere."

I gritted my teeth, staring at that towel. The light in my eyes went out completely at that moment.

I was thrown into an abandoned storage room.

Drafts came in from all sides. It was barely better than being left outside.

There was no doctor, no medicine.

I leaned against the wall, the wound on my thigh still oozing blood.