Engagement Annulled? Now The Husbands Kneel and Beg for Her Favor

Compared to the scorching heat of the out-of-control Fire-Element male, the girl’s hand was cool, with a touch like jade.

The moment she touched him, Que Feiling shuddered violently, his pupils contracting into even sharper slits.

Jiang Qingli was a little confused. She leaned closer to look into his eyes. "Strange... Haven’t you calmed down yet?"

The tempest stirred up by the out-of-control Vermilion Bird had not yet subsided, and it lifted the soft strands of the girl’s hair.

Her unique scent, carried on wisps of her hair, brushed across the boy’s cheek. In the dim, chaotic room, it was like a ray of sunlight chancing upon a rose in apocalyptic ruins, a gift of new life to a desperate soul in a faded world.

With his face cupped in her hands, Que Feiling looked up at the girl standing before him, who had just stepped through bloodstains.

His unfocused eyes were fixed on her clean, beautiful face.

The boy held his breath. His pale, handsome face visibly flushed, and the tips of his ears turned so red they looked as if they might bleed.

He opened his mouth, a subconscious murmur escaping his lips.

It was silent, yet urgent.

Jiang Qingli recognized the shape of his lips. He was mouthing the word "Jiang."

The girl’s eyes crinkled. "You remember me? I remember you too, little Vermilion Bird."

It was unclear whether Que Feiling understood.

He watched her, tilting his head. His lips gently pecked at her hair, clumsily sliding down the strands again and again.

Jiang Qingli found the situation a little strange, but then she remembered that Que Feiling was a Vermilion Bird.

She guessed... ’Is Que Feiling unconsciously "combing" my hair the way a bird uses its beak to preen feathers, as a sign of affection?’

To ensure the healing mission could be completed smoothly, Jiang Qingli also raised her hand. She copied him, stroking his hair and imagining she was petting a small bird.

In the dim, blood-splattered room, the boy and girl nestled together, drawing warmth from each other. The scene was both bizarre and heartwarming.

「On the other side of the wall.」

The monitoring screen tracking Que Feiling’s data began to BEEP. A researcher excitedly reported the good news to Mo Sinan, "Director Mo! Mr. Que’s contamination value is dropping! It’s gone from 86% down to 77%!"

Mo Sinan, who had been staring intently at the screen, let out a sigh of relief. She slumped back, sinking into the leather sofa, her back drenched in a cold sweat.

Across from her, two calls were still in progress.

Two sighs of relief could be heard from Que Qingqiong’s end.

A slightly older female voice spoke up. "He should be fine now, right?"

Que Qingqiong replied, "It looks that way, but we need to wait for his numbers to stabilize."

The middle-aged woman said, "He’s definitely fine. I had a master do a reading for him."

The voice belonged to Que Zhiyu, the aunt of Que Qingqiong and Que Feiling. She was the current vice president of the Que Group and a devout follower of the Beast God. She had insisted on bringing a master to do a reading for Que Feiling earlier and had only given up after extensive persuasion.

Mo Sinan took a sip of water to moisten her dry lips, but she didn’t dare lower her guard just yet.

Because Jiang Youchen still hadn’t spoken.

The man hadn’t made a single sound, but the ’In Call’ status on the screen and the ticking timer beneath it were enough to make a person feel breathless.

Mo Sinan instructed the researchers, "Keep observing for another three minutes."

That’s what she said, but the researchers present had seen hundreds, if not thousands, of males go berserk. They knew the situation had all but stabilized.

A few researchers started to relax. They began chatting in low voices as they recorded data and watched the screen.

"Miss Jiang looks so frail, but her spiritual power is incredibly strong. That’s quite rare."

"Besides her strong spiritual power, her genetic Match Value with Mr. Que is also very high—95%..."

"No wonder. You have to admit, they look really good together. A perfect match."

"Ah, love just blossoms so easily between a boy and a girl—"

Before the researcher could finish, Jiang Youchen—who had been silent ever since Jiang Qingli entered the containment chamber—suddenly spoke.

"That’s enough."

Even though the situation was improving, which should have been a good thing, the pressure emanating from Jiang Youchen became even heavier. His voice was hoarse, like the rumble of gathering storm clouds.

Que Zhiyu was not happy. "Youchen, I know you’re worried, but Xiao Ling’s condition is just starting to turn around. Just give him a little more time."

The Que and Jiang families had social ties, and in the past, Jiang Youchen had always called Que Zhiyu "Auntie."

Que Zhiyu thought that since the situation had improved, the healing could continue. Surely Jiang Youchen would grant her—and by extension, the Que family—this little bit of face.

But to her surprise, Jiang Youchen just said coldly, "Every extra minute is another minute of danger. No one can guarantee he won’t lose control again."

Que Zhiyu was speechless. "But..."

As the stalemate continued, a researcher spoke up. "Miss Jiang has stopped."

The image on the screen showed Jiang Qingli halting her movements. She then turned to the camera and pointed at the intercom.

Mo Sinan quickly opened the channel. "Miss Jiang."

Jiang Qingli said, "I’m going to enter his Spiritual Domain now. Please monitor his condition carefully and ensure my safety."

"Okay—"

"Absolutely not!" Jiang Youchen suddenly roared.

For a man known for his composure, the words came out like a roar.

However, Jiang Qingli did not hear him.

Fearing that Que Feiling might fly into a rage if he heard other voices, Jiang Qingli had cut off the communication channel the moment she finished speaking. She then pressed her forehead to his.

The room once again fell into a dead silence.

Jiang Youchen stared fixedly at the boy and girl on the screen, his knuckles cracking as he clenched his fists. His eyes were so bloodshot they looked as if they might start to bleed.

On her end of the call, Mo Sinan tried to placate him in a low voice, "Marshal Jiang, please, calm down..."

"I am calm."

Jiang Youchen enunciated every word, his voice a hoarse whisper, like the edge of a sharp blade against one’s neck—bone-chillingly cold.

"You had all better pray that everything goes smoothly."

"If this fails, none of you will leave here alive."

-

Jiang Qingli had expected to open her eyes and find herself at the scene of the battle where Que Feiling and his teammates had fought.

But all she saw was black and white.

It took her a moment to realize she was in a memorial hall.

In the center of the hall was a black-and-white photograph of the deceased.

The name "Qiao Yan" was written beneath it. ’That must be Que Feiling’s teammate who died,’ she thought.

Jiang Qingli looked around. Every face was a blur. The entire scene was like a black-and-white silent movie.

People in black mourning attire wore sorrowful expressions, murmuring to each other about their memories of the departed.

But their voices were muffled, as if filtered through something. They were extremely indistinct, and she could only vaguely make out words like "pity," "fault," and "the Que family..."

’How strange,’ she thought. ’Is this Que Feiling’s memory? Why is there no color, and why are the sounds so unclear?’

Just as she was pondering this, a familiar figure entered her vision.

Que Feiling, dressed in a suit, walked straight past her.

He looked even more haggard than he had in the containment chamber. Sorrow and pain were interwoven on his sharp features, and his cheeks were slightly sunken.

He clutched a bouquet of white flowers, his knuckles stark white.

Not far away, a middle-aged woman stood with her head bowed. A girl next to her was patting her on the back.

The girl looked familiar. It was Qiao Lan.

’Then the middle-aged woman must be...’

The answer was obvious.

Jiang Qingli’s heart sank. Que Feiling had already stopped in front of the woman, his voice hoarse. "Aunt Qiao..."

Before he could finish, a heavy slap cracked across his face, making him stagger.

The woman cursed him viciously, "You monster! You have the nerve to show your face?! My son would still be alive if it weren’t for you! Why wasn’t it you who died?! Why!"

She shrieked, her voice breaking with tears.

"Mother, we still have guests," Qiao Lan said, holding her mother steady. She then turned to Que Feiling, her voice cold. "You aren’t welcome here. Get out."

As soon as she finished speaking, bodyguards moved in to escort him out.

Que Feiling made a small motion to offer the flowers, but a bodyguard swatted them from his hand, sending them scattering across the floor.

Under the watchful eyes of all, Que Feiling was thrown out of the memorial hall.

He stood outside, not daring to enter again.

His terminal vibrated. Que Feiling answered, speaking softly. "Sis."

"You went there?" Que Qingqiong asked.

"Yeah."

"I knew it..." Que Qingqiong sighed. "Come back. You haven’t even finished your injections."

"Sis, can you..." Que Feiling said with great difficulty. "I want to... I want to recover that memory..."

"Impossible! Don’t even think about it!"

Que Qingqiong’s voice rose to a near shout.

"Xiao Ling, I’m doing this for your own good! If I hadn’t had that memory blurred for you, you would have gone insane, do you understand?! You hadn’t slept a wink for a week before that!"

"You just need to remember that the sudden ambush was not your fault! You weren’t in charge of reconnaissance, how many times do I have to tell you? You’ve already lost your five senses, isn’t that enough?! They just can’t accept what happened, so they’re dumping all their malice on you!"

"But... it was because of me. I... I don’t remember, but... it was because of me..."

The boy repeated the accusations he’d just been cursed with, at a total loss, his voice breaking.

Finally, unable to bear it any longer, he clutched his head and slowly sank to the ground.

At that moment, the world hit pause.

A Vermilion Bird emerged from his body, letting out a sharp, mournful cry.

In this black-and-white world, the Vermilion Bird was a dull, lusterless gray.

It curled up on the ground, wrapping its feathers around its body as it trembled in sorrow.

Suddenly, its feathers were gently caressed.

Jerking its head up, the Vermilion Bird saw the girl crouching before it, her soft, slender fingers reaching out to stroke its cheek.

The Vermilion Bird’s eyes widened.

What Jiang Qingli didn’t know was that in the instant she touched the Vermilion Bird—

—all the colors of the world began to radiate outward from her as the center.

The world, in all its vibrancy, unfolded before his eyes once more.