The next day, Xia Xiaoman arrived as promised.
Warehouse No. 7 was still damp and cold, the air thick with the smell of rust and chemicals. She pushed open the door to find Li Moting standing under dim lights, an old-fashioned projector by his side.
"You came." He didn't turn around, his voice low.
"What do you want?" Xia Xiaoman asked coldly, her fingers subtly brushing against the self-defense spray in her bag.
Li Moting finally turned to face her. His gaze was deeper than ever, the golden-brown streaks at the edges of his irises eerie under the faint light.
"To show you something."
He pressed the remote, and the projector flickered to life—revealing grainy surveillance footage.
**A laboratory, twenty years ago.**
A young Li Moting was strapped to an operating table, while beside him stood seven-year-old Xia Xiaoman. In her hand was a syringe, her expression blank as she injected the solution into his veins.
"The final stage of MN-07 was memory manipulation," Li Moting said, his voice terrifyingly calm. "Your father and my mother tried to stop the experiment, but Li Chenzhou used you as leverage—if you didn't inject me yourself, he would erase your memories, make you forget your parents completely."
Xia Xiaoman's blood ran cold.
"So…" Her voice trembled. "You hate me?"
Li Moting stepped closer, his fingers lightly grazing her cheek. His touch was cold, restrained, as if handling fragile porcelain.
"No," he murmured. "I need you."
"The marriage is a ruse. The Su family is my pawn." He pulled a flash drive from his inner pocket. "This contains all the evidence of Li Chenzhou's crimes, but I need the right moment—one where he can't recover."
Xia Xiaoman stared at him, her pulse roaring.
"What do you want me to do?"
The corner of Li Moting's lips curled into something almost cruel.
"Release the evidence you have. Set off a media firestorm." His thumb brushed her lower lip. "And then—"
"—let me 'betray' you."