Chapter 1 — May You Be Forever Alone

Entering the seventh year of my mission to conquer Vincent, I was diagnosed with a severe chili allergy that could prove fatal. Upon discovering that his first love, Nancy, was throwing a tantrum and demanding super-spicy hotpot—even deliberately pouring red chili oil directly into my personal bowl—Vincent remained entirely unperturbed as he offered gentle consolation.

"Nancy has suffered deep emotional wounds in the past, so her mental state is fragile. She simply cannot bear the sight of me showing affection or catering to anyone else. She merely wanted to vent her frustrations; there is no need for you to bicker with her."

Everyone around us assumed I would react as I had in the past—clutching my severely swollen throat, gasping for breath, and making a furious scene while demanding an urgent trip to the hospital. Yet, when he lifted a piece of tripe dripping with crimson chili oil and brought it right to my lips, I simply nodded with a numb, vacant expression and forced it down my throat.

"Perhaps Miss Nancy has not eaten her fill. My dear husband should poach a few more slices of meat for her."

The moment those words left my lips, the shrill, ear-piercing wail of an ambulance siren echoed from the street below. Vincent’s expression froze instantly.

"Why on earth did you call an ambulance? Is it not just a little spiciness? Must you always make such an unsightly, dramatic fuss over everything?"

Yet, even as he spoke, a trace of lingering guilt flickered across his features.

"Nancy is exceptionally sensitive. I shall accompany her to finish the meal and return shortly. Rest properly tonight, and I will prepare something light and bland for you tomorrow."

I nodded with absolute calm, watching him turn and walk away. What he did not know, however, was that the system’s vitality points assigned to me had finally plummeted to absolute zero. The searing, violent heat tore through my delicate mucosal tissues. I was on the verge of finally returning to my true home in the modern world. As for him, he was destined to spend the remainder of his days engulfed in profound solitude and gnawing regret.

Step aside, there is a patient suffering from a severe allergic reaction inside.

The lead emergency physician strode forward, carrying a heavy metal medical kit. Vincent had just stepped out of the private dining suite, supporting Nancy while casually locking the heavy door behind them, his brow furrowed in deep annoyance.

Get lost and stay out of the way.

Vincent stood squarely in front of the door, his demeanor icy and dismissive.

The person inside is merely faking an illness to vie for attention and sympathy. Do not come here bringing bad luck and trouble.

The doctor paused for a fraction of a second, his expression etched with profound anxiety and urgency.

Sir, we received an emergency distress call. The patient explicitly stated that her airways had already begun to close completely.

Anaphylactic shock can be fatal. I must ask you to unlock the door immediately.

Vincent let out a cold, mocking laugh. Releasing Nancy from his arm, he pulled a thick, tightly banded stack of cash from his expensive leather wallet. With a flick of his wrist, the crisp red bills struck the doctor directly across the chest before scattering haphazardly across the floor.

Take the money and get your people out of my sight.

Vincent’s voice was not loud, yet it was dripping with the arrogant condescension of someone standing far above ordinary mortals.

I know her far too well.

She merely consumed a tiny amount of chili. She is simply attempting to use this pathetic, low-handed tactic to force me into submission.

Nancy leaned heavily against Vincent’s chest, lifting a hand to cover her ears. She knitted her brows tightly, her voice weak and fragile.

Vincent, the sound of that ambulance siren outside is terribly noisy.

It gives me a pounding headache, and my heart is racing uncontrollably.

Vincent’s expression darkened instantly. He turned his gaze back to the physician, who was still attempting to step forward and reach for the door handle.

Did you not hear her say it is too loud?

Without warning, Vincent lunged forward, grabbing the doctor sharply by the collar. With a surge of raw strength, he shoved the lead physician violently toward the adjacent stairwell. The doctor staggered backward, his spine slamming heavily against the reinforced fire door with a dull, hollow thud.

If you and your team do not get out of here right now, I will ensure every single one of you finds your department suspended by tomorrow morning.

Vincent calmly straightened the lapels of his wrinkled suit jacket, his tone effortlessly returning to its usual polished composure. I hovered suspended in midair, quietly observing the chaotic scene unfolding outside the door. The exact millisecond Vincent had locked that heavy wooden door behind him, my soul had gently detached from its physical vessel. There was no longer any agonizing pain of suffocation. I drifted effortlessly through the thick wooden panels, casting my gaze downward to look at my lifeless shell lying abandoned within the room. That body was sprawled haphazardly across the cold tile floor. Both cheeks bore a grotesque, purplish-blue discoloration, and my neck had swollen to such a degree that it seemed to have merged directly into my chin. My fingers were rigidly clawed into my throat, the fingernails caked with dried blood from desperately ripping through my own flesh. Splatters of red hotpot broth stained the fabric of my white blouse like rotting, necrotic lesions. I was dead. A heavy, muffled thud echoed from beyond the door. Vincent raised a polished leather shoe and kicked viciously at the wooden frame. The entire door vibrated violently.

Tham Thanh Yen, you listen to me very carefully.

Vincent’s voice filtered through the wood, saturated with utter revulsion.

If you refuse to crawl out here right this instant and pay the bill, do not ever expect to set foot inside the Fu household again for the rest of your life.

Absolute silence filled the room. Only the bubbling broth in the hotpot continued to simmer softly. Vincent waited for half a minute. He did not hear me weeping, scratching at the door, and begging him not to leave as I always had in the past. His meager patience finally vanished entirely.

Stubborn and unteachable.

Vincent spun around on his heel, sweeping Nancy up into his arms in a bridal carry. Nancy let out a soft, delighted gasp, instinctively wrapping her arms tightly around his neck.

Vincent, do you suppose Sister Thanh Yen is genuinely angry this time?

If she wishes to throw a tantrum, let her. It has nothing to do with us.

Holding her close, Vincent strode toward the main entrance of the restaurant.

Did you not mention a headache? I shall take you to savor the most exquisite French pastries on the west side of town to lift your spirits.

Provided you are happy, I am quite willing to rent out the entire establishment for you.

Nancy let out a soft, melodic laugh against his chest. The corridor was completely deserted. The discarded banknotes on the floor fluttered softly in the draft of the air conditioning. I floated near the ceiling, watching my lifeless vessel lying beside the congealing, cold remnants of the meal, gradually growing rigid and frigid. The dried blood upon my neck had darkened into a deep, muddy brown. I felt no sorrow whatsoever. I merely realized how utterly absurd those past seven years truly were. Two hours later. The restaurant staff finally detected something amiss. The private dining room had remained completely silent for far too long, and not even the service bell had been pressed once. A female attendant retrieved the master spare key and pushed firmly against the door. As the heavy portal cracked open just a sliver, the young attendant let out a blood-curdling shriek. Her legs gave out completely, and she collapsed directly onto the red, oil-splattered tile floor.

Someone is dead!

Manager! Someone is dead in here!

At that very moment, Vincent was seated comfortably inside the most luxurious French restaurant on the west side of the city. Holding his cutlery with practiced grace, he meticulously sliced the steak on Nancy’s plate into uniform, bite-sized portions. The phone resting upon the white tablecloth suddenly began to vibrate. Glancing at the caller ID, Vincent frowned faintly. He slid to answer, his voice dripping with annoyance.

I am Vincent.

On the other end of the line, the restaurant manager’s voice trembled uncontrollably.

President… President Fu… Something terrible has happened to your wife in the private suite. Please return immediately to inspect the situation.

The silver knife paused mid-motion in Vincent’s grip.

Has your establishment truly grown so destitute?

Just how much money did Tham Thanh Yen give you to coordinate with her petty little scams?

The manager sounded on the verge of tears.

It is no scam, President Fu. Madam is genuinely no longer breathing. Even her facial complexion is entirely abnormal.

Let her continue playing her games.

Vincent gave a cold, dismissive chuckle.

Inform her that if she overacts, the performance ceases to be amusing.

Without another word, he terminated the call. Nancy took a dainty bite of her steak, dabbing the corners of her mouth with a linen napkin.

Vincent, could Sister Thanh Yen possibly be staging another suicidal outburst?

Did she not frequently employ such dramatic methods to frighten you in the past?

Vincent laid down his silverware and pulled a sterile wet wipe from the dispenser to cleanse his fingers.

Her constitution is remarkably stubborn; she is hardly going to perish from this.

Nonetheless, if she insists on making a public spectacle and humiliating me before outsiders, it is high time I returned to discipline her properly.

Vincent drove back to the hotpot restaurant in a foul mood. Shoving the door of the private suite open violently, he did not even bother casting a glance at the floor. He marched straight ahead and delivered a harsh, direct kick to my lower leg.

Tham Thanh Yen, get up off the floor this instant.

Stop lying here playing dead and making a disgraceful spectacle of yourself.

The impact sent a dull, heavy vibration through my shin, precisely as though he had kicked a solid log of dry timber. My body slid a short distance across the floorboards under the force of his blow. There was not the slightest reaction. Standing pale-faced in the doorway, the restaurant manager pointed a trembling finger downward.

President Fu, look closely at Madam’s face. It is truly abnormal.

Only then did Vincent finally lower his gaze. Staring at my deeply discolored, purplish-black visage, a flash of annoyance flickered in the depths of his eyes. He turned on his heel, strode toward the dining table, and snatched up a heavy glass tumbler filled with melting ice cubes. With a flick of his wrist, the entire contents of ice and freezing water were dumped ruthlessly over my face. The icy water cascaded down the bruised, swollen contours of my skin, dripping steadily onto the tiles. My body did not shiver. Not a single eyelash fluttered. Nancy pinched her nose, shrinking back behind Vincent’s shoulder while fanning the air with her hand, her expression one of utter disgust.

Vincent, there is a sickening odor of a rotting corpse in this room.

Let us leave immediately; this is intensely unlucky.

Vincent’s movements paused for a single second. The irritation in his gaze slowly shifted into a trace of subtle, unacknowledged doubt. Yet, he forcibly suppressed the feeling almost immediately. Bending down, he grabbed the collar of my outer coat, dragging the upper half of my body upright by sheer force. Because rigor mortis had already begun to set in, my arm swung downward with abrupt dead weight, the wrist slamming hard against the sharp wooden corner of an adjacent chair with a crisp, audible crack. Nancy let out a sudden, startled gasp, pointing directly at the exposed skin of my neck.

Vincent, look at her neck!

Dark, angry welts of allergic inflammation covered my throat, several spots torn completely raw by my desperate fingernails. Vincent let out a harsh huff.

To make her little performance convincing, she even went so far as to smear red theatrical pigment over herself.

Tham Thanh Yen, you are truly nauseating.

With that, much like dragging a lifeless carcass, he gripped the back of my collar and dragged me out into the corridor. My heels left long, dragging streaks across the polished floor. As we crossed the threshold, the back of my head struck repeatedly against the hard marble steps of the hallway with a series of dull, rhythmic thuds. Vincent did not even bother glancing back. I floated quietly in their wake, watching my head take the brunt of the hard staircase until deep bruises bloomed across my scalp. Within my heart, there remained only a dead, profound silence. Inside the underground parking garage, Vincent dragged my body all the way to the side of his vehicle. Just as he pulled open the rear passenger door, Nancy planted both hands firmly against the frame, her brow furrowed in loud protest.

Vincent, do not place her in here.

Her clothes are entirely saturated with the stench of hotpot broth and chemicals; she will ruin the custom, limited-edition imported leather upholstery I just purchased.

That was the birthday gift you gave me.

Vincent halted his movements, casting a glance toward Nancy. There was no trace of reprimand in his eyes; instead, they were filled with indulgence.

Very well, as you wish.

Accommodating her entirely, Vincent pressed the trunk release button on his key fob. The hatchback slowly elevated, revealing a compartment cluttered with miscellaneous gear. Seizing my freezing wrist, Vincent heaved my body unceremoniously into the cramped space. My frame wedged tightly between the spare tire well and the heavy metal toolbox in a severely contorted posture. Vincent reached out and grabbed the edge of the trunk lid. He paid zero attention to the fact that one of my index fingers remained dangling limply over the lip of the compartment. With a deafening slam, the heavy door was forced shut with brutal violence, directly snapping my protruding finger in two. The sharp, dry echo of breaking bone resounded clearly through the desolate, empty parking garage.