She crouched beneath him, so at this angle, his gaze inevitably fell upon her chest.

That patch of snow-white skin peeked out from the edge of the V-neck—deep and tightly constricted by the skirt, almost ready to burst forth.

Vio leaned back against the chair, one hand resting on the armrest as he took a drag from his cigarette and slowly blew the smoke toward her face.

Qin Qinxi closed her eyes. The smoke brushed across her face, a bit irritating.

She held back the cough.

No one said a word.

The room was utterly silent—so quiet that she could hear her own heartbeat.

Qin Qinxi didn’t know what to say either. She was afraid of saying something wrong, so she just kept her head down, staring at the grout between the floor tiles at his feet.

The man sat with his legs spread wide, while she crouched right between them.

She felt so ashamed that her toes curled up tight. Whether it was nervousness or something else, she could feel her face growing hot.

Suddenly, the man stood up.

Qin Qinxi remained crouched, not moving.

She heard him walk behind her, over to the Ice Face, and then he spoke: “Take her to Palm Jumeirah.”

“Yes,” Bali replied.

Then she heard the sound of the iron gate opening, followed by it closing again, along with hurried footsteps. A group of people walked out with him.

The room grew even quieter all at once.

Qin Qinxi was still crouching.

“Let’s go,” came Bali’s voice from behind.

Qin Qinxi quickly stood up.

Flustered, she smoothed out her skirt and hurried after Bali.

Qin Qinxi never expected to be back in this place again.

Bali dropped her off at the villa and left.

The door closed behind her, the engine noise faded into the distance, and then everything fell silent.

At that moment, she was the only one in the entire villa.

She stood in the entryway, dazed for a long while.

Qin Qinxi slowly walked inside.

The living room was huge, with white sand and blue sea visible through the floor-to-ceiling windows. Sunlight streamed in, shining brightly on the floor and blindingly so.

She sat on the sofa, staring blankly for a long time.

Tuxi’s words still rang in her ears.

She couldn’t run away anymore; otherwise, she’d meet an even worse end.

Besides, she was completely unfamiliar with this place and had nothing on her person.

She needed someone who could help her.

That man.

Even if he wasn’t a good person, she could tell he wasn’t just some ordinary local figure.

All Qin Qinxi knew was that there were two things she had to do now.

First, she had to make that man take an interest in her.

If he became interested in her, he probably wouldn’t think about killing her anymore—at least not so soon.

It seemed that the man was always surrounded by women; to him, she was just a passing novelty.

Once the novelty wore off, he might just toss her aside.

But what if he really liked her?

Wouldn’t he hesitate to harm a woman he liked?

Second, she had to use that man to take her to Jebel Ali and find Uncle.

But first, she had to accomplish the first task.

In the neighboring villa, in the surveillance room.

Four walls were covered with surveillance screens.

The screens were packed tightly together, capturing every corner of the villa from different angles.

Vio sat in the chair right in the middle.

He took a puff of his cigarette, the smoke swirling around and blurring the expression in his eyes.

On the screens, the woman was busy in the kitchen.

She was wearing an apron she’d somehow dug out of nowhere, pacing back and forth in front of the stove.

The man stared at her for a long time.

He’d been watching her since noon. He glanced at the clock—it was already seven in the evening.

He’d given this woman a chance to escape, so why didn’t she run?

If she didn’t run, what reason would he have to kill her?

And what exactly was this woman doing?

End of Chapter 22: Chapter 22