After leaving the hotel, Han Wenxue returned home straight away, rushed into the bathroom, and scrubbed her body over and over again, stopping only when her skin was nearly raw. Yet, the maddening, skin-crawling sensation lingered, refusing to fade.
She had a mild case of mysophobia. Even after a simple outing, she would change into fresh clothes upon returning home. How could she possibly tolerate the touch of a man's filthy hands?
Mysophobia was not a virtue. The "phobia" in the term already hinted at its pathological nature. To be precise, it was a psychological issue—though mild cases didn't qualify as a disorder, they still reflected an underlying problem.
Disgust toward filth was merely the outward expression of mysophobia. At its core, it stemmed from an inability to forgive oneself.
No one liked dirty environments, but while some people adapted and didn't care, others held themselves to exacting standards, refusing to allow any trace of dirt on their person or surroundings. When this strictness exceeded reasonable limits and began to interfere with daily life, it became mysophobia.
Thus, people with mysophobia often displayed a degree of obsession.
Once they set their minds on something, they wouldn't easily let it go. And when it came to things they hated, their aversion was etched deeply into their hearts.
At this moment, Han Wenxue wished she could grab a knife and end Chen Yi's life, putting an end to everything.
"Xiaoxue, what happened?"
When Han Wenxue returned, the old master Han was sitting in the living room, sipping kung fu tea. He had observed her disheveled state but refrained from asking questions as she stormed into the bathroom.
She stayed in there for over an hour, during which the old master finished two rounds of tea. Only when she emerged, her emotions slightly calmer, did he gently inquire.
"That damned beast Chen Yi, he… he…"
Han Wenxue was filled with seething hatred for Chen Yi and wanted to curse him out loud. Yet, when the words reached her lips, she found herself unable to speak. Instead, tears streamed down her face.
The old master poured out the tea that had grown tepid and said calmly, "Chen Yi wouldn't do such a thing. There must be some misunderstanding."
"There is no misunderstanding!" Han Wenxue screamed in fury. "When I woke up, he was right beside me! If it wasn't him, then who was it?"
The old master closed his eyes, pondering for a moment. When he spoke again, his tone was as composed as ever. "So, you don't actually know what happened. All of this is just your assumption."
My assumption?
Han Wenxue couldn't believe her ears. She couldn't believe that the grandfather who had always doted on her would say something like this.
She stared at him in disbelief, as if seeing him for the first time.
Noticing her distress, the old master waved his hand and explained, "It's not that I'm ignoring right and wrong or siding with an outsider. But the truth is, you haven't lost your innocence. Moreover, if Chen Yi had done something, he wouldn't have left any trace for anyone to detect—not me, not the police, and certainly not you."
I haven't lost my innocence?
Han Wenxue froze for a moment. Then, a wave of joy washed over her, as if she had regained something precious.
She had already entertained this suspicion while in the bathroom but couldn't bring herself to believe that Chen Yi would stop halfway. Now that her grandfather had said as much, it must be true.
"Then why were my clothes in such disarray?"
"That, I don't know," the old master replied, unwilling to delve too deeply into such a sensitive topic. For one, it was inappropriate; for another, he hadn't been present and truly didn't know the details. "But you can investigate for yourself."
"How?"
Han Wenxue was puzzled. She wasn't a police officer, nor was she part of the FBI.
"It's simple. Spend more time around Chen Yi, and you'll naturally come to understand his character."
"Impossible! I'd rather kill him!" Han Wenxue screamed in rejection.
The old master remained as composed as ever, his expression calm and steady. "If it wasn't Chen Yi, wouldn't your actions only hurt those who care for you and delight your enemies?"
"And if it was him?"
"Then catch him red-handed, report him to the authorities, and have that rascal locked up for a few years."
The old master's reasoning was persuasive—at least to Han Wenxue in her current state. If she could truly send Chen Yi to prison, it would be sweet revenge. But would Chen Yi really leave her an opening to catch him?
Meanwhile, Luo Yan, busy with a mountain of tasks following the recent major case, barely had time to exchange a few words with Chen Yi before being hurriedly called away.
Chen Yi left the station feeling a bit deflated, abandoning his plan to strike while the iron was hot.
After leaving, he promptly deposited the 500,000 yuan reward into the bank. He didn't want any unexpected mishaps. While he was at it, he transferred the 200,000 yuan he had won at Han Wenxue's birthday party into the same account.
His balance now stood at 700,000 yuan.
Once he saved up to a million, he planned to donate it to the orphanage, which would finally give him some breathing room to focus on his own future.
Though Luo Yan had toyed with him earlier, Chen Yi's mood was still quite good. It wasn't just the 500,000 yuan that pleased him—there was something even more exciting, something money couldn't buy.
He pulled a palm-sized tree root from his pocket. He had stumbled upon it while they were excavating the bodies on the small mountain.
That mountain, a burial site, was steeped in dense yin energy, drawing in the yin essence from hundreds of miles along the Yellow River.
But where there is yin, there must also be yang. In the balance of all things, even the most yin-saturated place would have a spot of yang. The denser the yin energy, the stronger the yang essence at its core.
Like the yin-yang symbol, where the black and white fish each hold an eye of the opposite color, pure yin or pure yang does not exist.
The tree root in Chen Yi's hand was the "eye" of this burial site.
He had discovered it by chance and, while others were focused on the excavation, had secretly dug it up without anyone noticing.
Though the timing wasn't ideal, he couldn't let such a treasure slip away.
Searching for him a thousand times in the crowd, only to find him in a dimly lit corner.
Chen Yi had done his best to keep his movements discreet, ensuring no one else noticed. Otherwise, he would have become the target of everyone's envy.
This small root held an extraordinary amount of yang energy.
Chen Yi had been planning to create a "Four Symbols Spirit Gathering Array" for himself but had been delayed by a series of events. Now, with this root, he could craft it into a talismanic artifact, the "Azure Dragon."
The Azure Dragon, associated with wood, governed the east, where the day's yang energy first emerged. This root perfectly met the requirements for crafting the Azure Dragon.
As for the other three talismans—Vermilion Bird, White Tiger, and Black Tortoise—those would depend on fate. They might take months to find, or perhaps, like this root, they would appear unexpectedly tomorrow.
Chen Yi knew such things couldn't be rushed, so he wasn't anxious.
In the meantime, he could use this single artifact to create a scaled-down version of the Four Symbols Array. Though less effective, it was better than nothing.
Frugality was one of Chen Yi's defining traits. Even with 700,000 yuan in his account, he still didn't waste money and opted to take the bus home.
As he pondered how to maximize the root's potential, he felt a surge of excitement. But just as he was forming a clear plan in his mind, someone he didn't want to see appeared before him.
Han Wenxue, dressed in a white dress, stood elegantly at his doorstep, a small suitcase by her side.
After returning home, Han Wenxue had washed herself thoroughly and scoured the internet for information. Based on various signs, it seemed she hadn't been violated. But how, then, could she explain her disheveled clothing?
Could it be that this scoundrel Chen Yi had a change of heart at the critical moment? Or was he all bark and no bite, abandoning his plan halfway?
Regardless, she couldn't move past the incident. To find closure, she had come to confront Chen Yi.
"What are you doing here?"
Chen Yi stopped in his tracks, eyeing her warily. He feared she might lose her temper again and unleash another round of "tigress punches," leaving him half-paralyzed.
As the saying goes, the soft fear the hard, the hard fear the crazy, and the crazy fear the insane. At that moment, Han Wenxue had been the "insane" one at the top of the food chain, and Chen Yi had suffered enough.
"Master Chen, a man must take responsibility. You took advantage of a young woman and now think you can just walk away?"
Han Wenxue's face bore a cold smile tinged with resentment, her expression resembling that of a betrayed lover torn between love and hate.
Before Chen Yi could respond, his landlady emerged and said, "Xiao Chen, a real man takes responsibility. This young lady has given herself to you; you must cherish her."
Chen Yi was dumbfounded. What kind of blame was this?
She had taken off her own clothes, yet somehow it was all his fault. If she ended up pregnant, would he have to step up and play the role of father?
"Just now, Xiao Han explained everything to me. She didn't speak ill of you, so don't misunderstand her. You're a good kid. Young people make mistakes, but when you do, you must correct them. Listen to me—talk things out with her and don't let this fester."
The landlady, a kind-hearted woman who couldn't bear to see others suffer, had always looked out for Chen Yi. When he couldn't afford rent, she had helped him find work instead of pressuring him for payment. But this time, her well-meaning intervention was entirely misplaced. The one being wronged wasn't Han Wenxue—it was Chen Yi!
"Auntie, this isn't what you think! I didn't do anything!"
Chen Yi hurriedly tried to explain. He had spent years building his reputation; he couldn't let it crumble now. If Han Wenxue eventually returned to America after stirring up enough trouble, how would he ever find a wife?
Besides, he had just managed to charm a policewoman. He couldn't risk upsetting Luo Yan—if she got mad, she might actually shoot him.
"Auntie, you see? He's denying it again. What should I do? I can't go on living…"
Han Wenxue's voice was filled with sorrow, like a cuckoo crying blood, so pitiful it could move anyone to tears.
"Chen Yi, I don't care about anything else, but you must give this young lady an answer. Look at Xiao Han—she's beautiful, educated, and devoted to you. Do you know how lucky you are?" The landlady's tone turned stern as she scolded him.
By now, the other tenants on the same floor had come out to watch the commotion. Even the reclusive gamer who rarely left his room had emerged, his unkempt hair resembling a bird's nest.
The gamer, with a righteous expression, said, "Brother, I don't mean to criticize, but you're in the wrong here. A real man should act like one. Take Xiao Han to the hospital for a checkup. If you're short on cash, I'll lend you some."
Sympathy for Han Wenxue spread quickly. Women were naturally more likely to garner pity, and in an instant, Chen Yi became the target of everyone's scorn.
For the first time, Chen Yi truly understood what it felt like to be set up. He had spent his life outsmarting others, but today, he had been thoroughly outplayed by Han Wenxue.
Looking at his overly sympathetic and imaginative neighbors, Chen Yi felt utterly helpless.
Couldn't they see that this little vixen was putting on an act? And the landlady—she had lived so many years; how could she not see through it?
Little did Chen Yi know, the landlady herself had taught Han Wenxue the classic "cry, make a scene, and threaten to hang herself" tactic.
Now, she was inwardly pleased, proud of herself for saving yet another "wayward youth."