Vio Mansello couldn’t understand why he didn’t feel any aversion toward this woman.

That in itself was quite strange.

He hated people who came at him on their own. He hated those who touched his things. He hated anyone who barged into his territory without permission.

Yet this woman had managed to embody all of those traits.

And yet, he felt no revulsion.

This feeling made him utterly uncomfortable—like ants crawling up the cracks in his bones, a sensation that was hard to describe as either itch or pain.

He labeled this discomfort as an emotion.

So he wanted to kill her. He didn’t want to see her. Just the sight of her irritated him.

Vio intended to go to the bathroom to take a shower. After taking two steps toward the door, he stopped again.

He glanced at the bathroom door. It was frosted, letting light through but not revealing what lay behind it.

Vio turned back to look at her and said coldly, “Come over.”

Qin Qinxi had just gotten up from the floor, tears still streaking down her face, not yet dried.

She froze for a second, then quickly wiped her face and stumbled over to him.

Her legs were still trembling; every few steps she would weaken, but she dared not slow down.

Vio rested his hand on the bathroom door handle and looked at her.

“I’m going to close the door in a bit,” he said, “and you’re going to stand with your back pressed against it. Don’t move.”

He still held the gun in his hand. He raised the muzzle and pointed it at her.

“I’ll be watching you from inside. Otherwise,” he paused, his tone laced with warning, “I won’t mind if the room gets splattered with blood.”

Qin Qinxi was startled by his words, her face turning even paler. But she didn’t dare hesitate; she nodded frantically.

Suddenly, she began to understand.

This man thought she was someone out to assassinate him.

That phone call, the questions he’d asked her, even this very door…

He was guarding against her.

He was afraid she might try to tamper with something while he was bathing, or slip someone else in.

Her heart was in knots—both anxious and terrified.

Because she had no idea whether he still planned to kill her later.

But she could only obey.

Immediately afterward, the man stepped into the bathroom and closed the door.

Qin Qinxi hurried over, pressing her back against the door and standing perfectly straight. Yet a chill kept creeping up her spine.

Her teeth were still chattering uncontrollably, clacking against each other.

It wasn’t cold—it was fear. A physiological reaction that made her shake uncontrollably.

Qin Qinxi had no idea what awaited her next.

She didn’t believe in gods. Never had. But now she wanted to.

She wanted to pray. Pray that the person inside wouldn’t entertain the thought of killing her anymore.

Inside the bathroom, Vio stripped off his clothes.

He stood before the mirror and cast a quick glance at himself, then frowned.

He turned to the figure by the door.

Through the frosted glass, he could only make out a blurry silhouette pressed against the door, completely still.

He had practiced self-restraint for more than twenty years.

No matter how seductive a woman might sway before him, he felt no interest whatsoever.

Not even during puberty had he felt like this.

The more Vio thought about it, the more agitated he became.

He turned on the water, letting the shower cascade down over his head.

Hot water poured over his shoulders and trickled down his spine.

He tilted his head back, letting the stream hit his face, eyes closed.

Suddenly, his phone rang.

Qin Qinxi heard the sound and turned her head toward the nightstand.

It was the man’s phone. The screen was lit and vibrating.

Her heart clenched suddenly.

She had put the gun back in the bonsai pot.

But what if someone stole it?

What if he couldn’t find it and ended up lingering around her?

What if this call was meant to tell him they hadn’t found it, and then he’d come out and shoot her dead?

The sound of running water in the bathroom ceased.

“Go get it,” came the man’s muffled voice from behind the door.

Qin Qinxi didn’t dare delay. She responded and practically ran over.

She grabbed the phone, dashed back, and resumed standing with her back against the door.

She remembered what he’d said: lean against the door, don’t move.

End of Chapter 16: Chapter 16