The Letter

One Sunday, while Chris skillfully fed me dinner, I suddenly realized my attention toward him had exceeded safe limits.

So I decided to indulge myself that night.

I messaged my best friends.

Any good places recently?

Lolo instantly sent a location.

A new bar.

I changed, put on makeup, and drove Chris’s low-key Maybach to the entrance.

Nightclubs have their benefits.

Ever since Chris entered my home, my carefree life had been cut off.

Now, returning to my sea, I felt like a fish released into water.

I noticed a man at the next table.

Three seconds later, he sat beside me.

“Beauty, drink? My treat.”

Unlike the usual younger boys, this one was clearly an experienced veteran.

A fellow player.

Interesting.

“Thank you,” I said, pushing away the drink. “But I don’t drink from strangers.”

“Especially strange men.”

“Then I’ll pay for your table.”

He set the drink aside.

He had also recognized me as a fellow player.

But I never retreated from a man who interested me.

I tugged his tie and leaned forward.

“I don’t drink with strange men, but I can dance with them. Coming?”

His arm slid around my waist.

He brought me into the flashing dance floor.

The DJ changed to a hotter track.

We moved closer.

After a few rounds, Chris suddenly appeared in my mind.

Interest in the man vanished.

Damn.

Apparently women can suffer a version of impotence too.

I slipped away like a fish and went to the restroom to clear my head.

Looking at my reflection, I despised myself.

Had my stamina fallen so low?

Then I walked into someone.

“Beauty, night isn’t late yet. In such a hurry to fall into my arms?”

I apologized and moved away.

I had no interest tonight.

But behind me, the man said,

“Miss Lian, are you afraid?”

I turned.

“How do you know my name? Am I famous?”

He pressed me into the wall.

“Very famous. I came specifically for you.”

I was a person who could not resist provocation.

My pale arms hooked around his neck.

“Then, brother, it’s so dark. Are you going to take me home?”

Before he could answer, a voice rang out.

“Sister-in-law.”

I looked up.

Fuck.

Again.

I pushed the man away and glared at Chris.

“Did you install a tracker on me?”

This time, beneath the anger, there was a strange joy I did not want to admit.

Chris glanced at the man, then dragged him aside.

I did not know what he said.

When the man left, he gave me a thumbs-up with strange admiration in his eyes.

I grabbed Chris’s ear.

“What did you tell him?”

Chris lowered his head obediently.

Then suddenly lifted me.

“Bending hurts. I can raise you instead.”

I hung in the air on his arm.

“Put me down! Do you know how many men I’ve lost because of you?”

“I’ll compensate however many you lost.”

He carried me into a dim private room.

One hand on my waist.

One hand on my face.

“But sister, knowing I’m pursuing you, you still come here. You’re becoming less obedient.”

I caught his wandering hand.

“Chris, figure it out. You’re only a pursuer. What right do you have to manage me?”

He smiled.

“Fine. I’ll show sister what right I have.”

The door locked.

Before I could escape, he pulled me back.

Click.

I looked down.

A silver bracelet around my wrist.

The handcuffs.

So that was where they had gone.

“Sister,” Chris said beside my ear, “from now on, I’ll treat all resistance as your request.”

His voice was like a drug.

Then he kissed wine into my mouth.

I thought:

Sleeping with Chris would not be a loss.

Other than his poisonous mouth, everything else about him was quite good.

The night became chaos.

When I woke, an arm still lay around my waist.

I turned.

Chris.

Memories of the absurd night surfaced.

Alcohol had clouded my mind.

If I were sober, I would never have done this.

I had not figured out how to face him.

So before he woke, I ran.

At work, a young intern delivered a package.

“Lena, your delivery.”

I searched for scissors.

The package had no sender.

Light.

Inside was a letter.

The moment I opened it, I screamed.

Coworkers gathered.

Someone brave picked it up.

Strange drawings covered the paper.

The most terrifying part was my name written in blood.

“Call the police,” someone said.

It was clearly a threatening letter.

I could not think of anyone I had offended badly enough.

Soon the company learned.

Police arrived quickly.

Strangely, no delivery record existed.

The package had appeared at reception out of nowhere.

The surveillance showed no abnormal person.

After everyone left work, I stayed to organize one last file.

Then I heard tapping behind me.

I turned.

Nothing.

Maybe I was too sensitive.

Maybe the letter had worked on my nerves.

Cold wind seemed to blow from behind.

I opened a funny video on my phone to build courage.

Then Chris called.

He was downstairs.

Seeing that I was truly frightened, he pulled me into his arms and nuzzled me like a big dog.

“Now you remember my usefulness?”

“Follow me and you’ll have first-class security.”

I pushed him.

“Stop messing around.”

But after he disrupted me like this, my fear eased.

For several days, Chris drove me to and from work.

Our relationship became like lovers without a title.

Then one evening, I was alone in the office again.

A strong unease rose in me.

Without hesitation, I called Chris.

“Chris, come pick—”

Before I finished, something struck the back of my head.

I lost consciousness.

When I woke, darkness surrounded me.

My hands were tied behind my back.

Soon, the kidnapper appeared.

“Lena,” he said softly, “do you remember me?”

It was Chen Ping.

The quiet intern.