"President Jing!"
The bodyguards reacted extremely quickly, rushing forward almost the instant the gunshot rang out and the ground was covered in dirt.
Someone quickly supported his swaying body, while another swiftly took out a handkerchief and pressed it firmly against his wound.
Blood, however, seemed unstoppable, gushing out from between his fingers.
Jingmin, however, seemed deaf to all the shouts around him.
He was completely dazed, blood slowly trickling from the corner of his mouth, staining his pale lips red.
Yet he still gripped Yang Jinchu's throat tightly—his grip remained firm.
He was like a puppet who had lost its soul.
Despite the bodyguards surrounding and fiddling with him,
Despite the gushing blood from his wounds, his gaze remained fixed solely on Chu Wuyang.
She remained standing there, her hands gripping the gun tightly, the muzzle still pointed at him, her knuckles white.
It was as if I was frozen in time.
She didn't move.
It seems like they've forgotten how to move.
It was as if she hadn't even realized she'd pulled the trigger.
The surrounding air became thin.
The bodyguards looked at each other in bewilderment, wanting to step forward to stop Chu Wuyang, but they all stopped at the last moment.
Because they remembered very clearly—just now, Jing Min had personally given the order.
So at this moment, even though she was still holding a gun, even though the gun was still pointed at their employer,
They could only grit their teeth and endure it, remaining motionless and obeying orders above all else.
For a moment, the surroundings fell into dead silence.
All that remained was the violent heaving of Jing Min's chest, the echo of that gunshot still ringing in his ears, blood trickling down from the corner of his lips, staining his collar a deep crimson.
But in his daze, he couldn't tell where the pain was coming from.
Even though the bullet pierced his abdomen, he felt as if his entire heart was being torn apart, the pain making it hard to breathe.
Even though the wound wasn't on his chest, he felt a sharp pain in his chest cavity.
It felt like being pierced by a sharp blade, one cut after another, stabbing straight to the deepest part.
He even saw Chu Wuyang still holding a gun, the muzzle still pointed at him.
Their fingers were clenched tightly, their eyes held no tears, only fear and stiffness.
Her hand was still shaking as she fired the gun.
But there was no intention of letting go.
Jing Min suddenly felt extremely cold.
He looked down at the blood on his abdomen.
When I looked up again, I vaguely saw blood spreading down my chest, staining my entire heart.
The bodyguard finished the basic first aid and seemed to be making a phone call. Chu Wuyang wasn't sure if he was calling an ambulance or notifying his trusted men.
Anyway... he won't die, will he?
When Jing Min looked at Chu Wuyang again, there was no anger in his handsome eyes, only endless desolation.
"You shot me?!"
"You really shot me."
Chu Wuyang has never been as strong and decisive as she is now.
"Yes, aren't you going to release them?"
He laughed when he heard her answer.
Blood was at the corner of his mouth, but his eyes were filled with a silent sorrow, like falling snow.
He abruptly pushed away the bodyguard who was holding an umbrella for him.
Despite his battered and bruised body, he dragged Yang Jinchu along and slowly walked towards the edge of the deck.
There was only a low fence around it.
Below was the pitch-black, bottomless seawater, as cold as the embrace of death.
Chu Wuyang dared not relax for a moment, keeping the gun firmly aimed at Jing Min.
She stared intently at him, her finger already on the trigger.
"Jingmin, I beg you, let him go... please?"
Her voice trembled slightly, but despair filled her eyes.
Jing Min paused slightly, but only smiled gently.
"Wasn't shooting for another man enough?"
He said without turning his head.
"Now you're begging me again for his sake?"
He pushed half of Yang Jinchu's body outside the fence as if he were carrying an object.
Yang Jinchu's face turned pale, her struggling hands were firmly restrained, and her body swayed in mid-air.
The waves crashed against the shore below, like the gaping mouths of a hungry beast.
True fear finally surfaced in Chu Wuyang's eyes.
Jing Min was pleased to see that moment of panic.
A brief calm flashed across his eyes, and even the pain from his gunshot wound seemed to have subsided.
He won, and she was scared.
But he didn't stop; he just smiled calmly.
"How about I beg you to come back with me?"
He didn't even wait for her answer; a trace of obsessive desolation flashed in his eyes.
"You definitely won't agree,"
"Of course, I have no reason to agree to that, right?"
"but……"
He suddenly turned his head, as if he had thought of something, his smile deepening, but his eyes only held a sickly light.
"I've come up with an interesting game."
Jing Min pushed Yang Jinchu half an inch further over the railing; the sea breeze howled, penetrating his wounds.
He seemed oblivious to the pain, his smile growing increasingly sinister.
"Let's make a bet,"
He looked at Chu Wuyang, his voice as low as the scraping of a knife's edge in the night.
"I'll bet you won't fire a second shot."
"You missed just now, so I'll give you another chance. Do you dare?"
"If you don't want him to die—"
He lowered his eyes, glanced at Yang Jinchu's face, which had turned purple from lack of oxygen, and smiled.
“You can shoot me again… If you hit his heart, I’ll let him go.”
"If you hesitate... then he should go down and join the sea right now."
In short, it was like a contract made by the devil.
He has no humanity in his eyes, only madness.
He was truly gambling—gambling that she wouldn't be able to let go, gambling that she was soft-hearted, gambling that she wouldn't dare to kill him.
He could never release Yang Jinchu unless he died!
Her finger almost broke off the trigger, and she felt like she was falling off a cliff, completely collapsing.
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