Qin Yanzhou was a shell of himself.
He hadn't eaten. He hadn't slept. Not a single moment passed without his mind being consumed by Wu Mei. Every second without her felt like suffocating in slow motion. His home, once full of warmth and her laughter, had turned cold and unbearably quiet.
His eyes, once sharp and calculating, were now hollow with fatigue and desperation. Each day, his men returned with no new information. But finally, after what felt like an eternity, they brought in the man responsible for the crash.
Qin Yanzhou stood in his dark office, shadows playing across the marble floor as the restrained man was dragged in by two guards. The man looked disheveled, bruised, and panicked.
"Let me go! I didn't do anything!" the man shouted, struggling against the grip of the guards.
Yanzhou stepped forward, voice cold like a blade. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? To walk away after trying to kill my wife?"
The man's eyes flicked with fear. "I swear, I don't know anything! I was just paid!"
"Who paid you?" Yanzhou demanded, stepping closer. "Give me a name. A face. Anything."
"I never saw his face! He wore a mask the entire time! I swear on my life!" the man stammered.
Yanzhou stared him down. "Then your life is worth nothing. Take him away. Make him talk."
The guards dragged him away as the man screamed, pleading. An hour later, Qin Yanzhou's assistant came rushing in with the full confession.
"Boss," the assistant said, slightly breathless. "He talked. But... the person behind the attack, he was completely unrecognizable. Full black clothes. A voice changer. No digital trail. It's like he doesn't exist."
Yanzhou's fists clenched at his sides. Anger bubbled beneath his skin, violent and relentless. "Throw him in prison for life. And double the search efforts for Wu Mei. I want eyes on every hidden village, every path, every corner."
"Yes, sir."
Meanwhile, in a remote mountain village untouched by technology or news, Wu Mei sat quietly by a small window in a wooden cabin. Her brows furrowed as she tried to process the strange feeling in her chest—a constant dull ache she couldn't name.
She didn't remember her name. She didn't remember her past. But something inside her felt... incomplete.
The elderly woman who saved her, Mo Qing Yao, watched her with soft, motherly eyes.
"Miao Miao," she called gently, using the name she had given Wu Mei, "you've been sitting there for a long time. Come, it's time for your lessons."
Wu Mei turned slowly. She was dressed in simple cotton robes, her long hair tied loosely at her back. "Yes... Qing Yao shifu."
Mo Qing Yao was no ordinary woman. She had lived in solitude for decades after losing her family, mastering both ancient medicine and a rare style of Kung Fu. When she found Wu Mei unconscious near the base of the cliff, she had recognized the girl instantly. Wu Mei had once helped her years ago, giving her food when others ignored her.
Repaying her kindness, Mo Qing Yao had taken her in, cared for her, and now treated her like a daughter. During the week that followed, Wu Mei was taught how to heal wounds, how to defend herself, and how to listen to the whispers of nature.
But even as she trained and smiled faintly under Qing Yao's guidance, her heart remained unsettled. At night, she dreamt of a man with sharp eyes and a deep voice. A man who whispered her name with love. A name she couldn't remember.
"Do you think... I was married before?" Wu Mei asked one evening as they prepared dinner.
Qing Yao stirred the soup pot gently. "Why do you ask, child?"
"I keep seeing someone's face. And sometimes... I feel like my chest is going to explode. Like something important is missing."
Qing Yao sighed, walking over and cupping her cheek. "Memory is a strange thing. It comes back when you least expect it. Don't force it, Miao Miao. But trust your heart. It always remembers."
Back in the city, Qin Yanzhou received a report.
One of his men burst into his office. "Boss! We've found a small village in the mountains. We hadn't checked it before. It's secluded, no roads, barely any contact with the outside world."
Yanzhou stood up instantly. "Go. Now. Get the team ready. I'm coming."
"But sir, it's a long way. You haven't rested in days."
"I don't care. If there's even a 1% chance she's there, I'll go. I'll search every village in this country until I find her."
He turned to his most trusted men. "And whoever was behind that mask... find them. Dig into every dark corner of this city. I don't care how long it takes. Find them. And when you do... they won't see daylight again."
As the search team departed toward the mountains, a new storm brewed in Qin Yanzhou's heart. One driven by love, loss, and vengeance.
Each passing second without Wu Mei felt like an eternity. He stood at the edge of the estate's balcony, eyes fixated on the distant horizon as if he could will her back through sheer force of longing. The pain in his chest wasn't just emotional — it throbbed like a physical wound, open and raw.
He clenched his fists.
Where are you, Mei?
A gentle breeze swept past, whispering through the trees like a memory calling out his name. He remembered her laughter, the way she'd wrinkle her nose when annoyed, how her fingers felt laced in his. Those memories were his only solace, but even they began to feel like ghosts — fading and intangible.
Inside, his assistant approached again, holding a phone. "Sir… the villagers confirmed there's an outsider living with Mo Qing Yao — a young woman. She fits Madam Wu Mei's description."
Qin Yanzhou's eyes blazed.
Without hesitation, he turned. "Prepare the helicopter. Now."
"Yes, sir."
As the whir of blades started to spin minutes later, his jaw tightened with grim resolve.
Even if the mountains crumble or the heavens fall… I will bring you home, my love.
He would find her. No matter what.
And as Wu Mei—now Miao Miao—lay asleep in her small bed in Qing Yao's cottage, a single tear slipped down her cheek.
She didn't know why.
But somewhere deep within her heart, something... someone... was calling her name.