Chapter 80: Sweetheart, Be Good—Don't Be Angry Anymore!

He hadn’t seen wrong. There really was a fire ahead! His heart sank abruptly and he urged, “Faster!”

“Alright!” The car was already speeding.

But in the next instant, Liang Liang’s eyes widened in shock. She slammed on the horn and hit the brakes hard, because she saw—“There’s someone in the middle of the road!”

The road was too narrow—there was no way to swerve. An emergency stop was the only choice.

At that very moment, Wen Yanli’s phone rang—it was Pei Qiuyang in the car behind. “Brother Li, why did we stop?”

“Be careful, something’s wrong.” He spoke to both Pei Qiuyang and Liang Liang.

It was nearly eleven at night. This section of the villa district was remote and quiet, yet suddenly someone had darted into the middle of the road?

Definitely suspicious!

Liang Liang quickly noticed the intruder held an iron rod. Not just that—several more figures burst out of the roadside shrubbery. “Attorney Wen, it’s an ambush!”

Wen Yanli saw them, too, and immediately dialed Pei Qiuyang back. “Ah Pei, tell the brothers to be on guard. The ambushers are all armed.”

In that instant, if they hadn’t stopped and had just barreled through, someone could have been killed.

Now that the cars had stopped, they were at a disadvantage. They might not lose in a fight—Pei Qiuyang had brought plenty of men—but every minute delayed was a minute too long.

At that moment, with a loud crash, the windshield shattered. Wen Yanli raised his arm to shield himself from the flying glass, while ordering in a low voice, “Drive forward—slowly!”

His next words were for Pei Qiuyang on the phone. “Get your men up here to hold them off. Try not to kill anyone!”

“Understood!”

Even as he spoke, more glass was smashed, and the car doors and body rang with the impacts.

“Stop!” Fortunately, men from Pei Qiuyang’s two cars behind rushed in, and a fierce fight erupted.

After Liang Liang shook off the attackers clinging to the car, she floored the accelerator—the vehicle shot forward like an arrow loosed from a bow.

She felt a chill on her face. When she reached up, she realized the left side had been cut by glass and was bleeding.

She glanced at the man in the passenger seat. “Attorney Wen, are you alright?”

“I’m fine!”

But Liang Liang could tell his voice sounded off—hoarse, obviously.

Beside her, Wen Yanli’s eyes were fixed on the growingly clear scene ahead—the billowing smoke and flames.

It seemed no one had noticed yet. Likely because all the neighboring villas were dark and uninhabited.

He’d already entered the emergency number for the fire department, but hadn’t dialed yet.

Hesitating, the car rounded the final bend. Wen Yanli spotted Song Mi’s Rolls-Royce Phantom parked outside the burning villa’s courtyard.

It was here, just as he’d guessed!

Before the car had fully stopped, Wen Yanli unfastened his seatbelt, opened the door, and dashed toward the flames. “Song Mi—Mi’er!”

...

Inside the villa—

The fight had broken out not in the sunroom dining area, but in the living room, with Ye Zhao and the other three quickly shielding Song Mi and retreating there.

To best ensure Song Mi’s safety, Ye Zhao had sent her upstairs earlier—standing higher, she could respond to sudden attacks and oversee the situation, offering advice as needed.

As things worsened, Tang Lishi also slipped upstairs amid the chaos. But she was no match for Song Mi.

So, when Zhong Lan shouted, “Fire!” Ye Zhao, Song Mi, and Tang Lishi were all at the staircase landing on the second floor.

Not only had the downstairs fireplace wall gone up in flames, but black smoke and fire were pouring from the rooms upstairs.

—Who started the fire?!

Ye Zhao immediately pulled Song Mi downstairs. In the rush, Tang Lishi tripped and nearly tumbled down the staircase.

Hearing the commotion, Song Mi still reached out to steady her.

Tang Lishi was utterly panicked. “Sister Wu! Sister Wu!”

No one answered.

Song Mi shot her a glare. “Call everyone! If someone dies here, do you know what will happen?”

Tang Lishi couldn’t meet her eyes.

As soon as Song Mi finished, Ye Zhao also shouted, “Zhong Lan, call for Zhang Ye!”

“Zhang Ye! Old Xia!”

“Fire! If you can still get up, move now!”

Noise erupted from all corners.

Song Mi also called out, “If you hear me, alert those around you!”

The fight earlier had been brutal. Zhong Lan, Zhang Ye, and Xia Yue were all professionally trained bodyguards—Ye Zhao was even better.

But those hired by Tang Lishi and Shen Yanlie were also formidable, fighting like men with nothing to lose.

Nearly everyone was injured—including Zhong Lan’s group.

With the fire raging, those who could move began to run for the exits; those who couldn’t, struggled and staggered after them.

Soon someone discovered the doors were locked. “The door’s locked!”

“Use the back door!”

“Through the dining room!”

“That’s locked, too!”

“Come here—let’s break the door together!”

Chaos broke out.

“Smash the windows!” someone yelled.

Song Mi had already counted—Tang Lishi’s side had twenty-five men. That meant, with everyone, there were thirty-one people inside the burning villa, plus the missing Sister Wu.

The fire grew fiercer, smoke thicker. Song Mi’s eyes stung from the fumes. Soon, someone smashed a window—one person scrambled out, then another.

The patio door followed, shattering with a crash.

In the panic, people fought to escape, some even clashing with each other.

Desperation revealed the selfishness of human nature.

After three or four had climbed out, Ye Zhao shouted, “Who’ll open the door?”

No one answered.

Zhong Lan and Xia Yue were still helping others to the window.

Zhang Ye was too badly injured to help, barely able to walk himself.

Ye Zhao dragged Song Mi toward the patio door, but the way was jammed by the crowd, each one frantic to escape.

Tang Lishi stayed close behind Song Mi.

Survival was humanity’s strongest instinct—no matter how gravely hurt, everyone moved quickly to save themselves.

Song Mi kept count—eighteen or nineteen had gotten out.

Just then, she heard, faintly, “Mi’er!”

...

Wen Yanli had scaled the wall to enter the courtyard, spotting a furtive figure before he’d even landed.

A woman!

She was startled. “Ah! Fire—the fire—run!”

“Where are the others?” Wen Yanli dropped down.

Seeing her fleeing in panic, he didn’t chase—he’d heard noises ahead. Glass shattering.

A few steps forward, he saw shadows—people clambering out windows.

A louder crash—more glass breaking, nearer this time.

He ran toward the sound. “Mi’er, where are you?”

“Ye Zhao!”

“Mi’er—”

Ye Zhao heard him, too. “It’s Attorney Wen!”

Someone tried to push out ahead, but Ye Zhao darted in front to block them. “Wait!”

“Attorney Wen, over here!”

At the sight of the man, Song Mi’s heart finally settled.

Across from her, Wen Yanli felt something else. Before seeing her, his heart had been still, not beating. Only after he saw her did it begin to race again, wild and unrestrained.

The two of them yearned to imprint each other on their very souls.

—“Are you alright?”

—“How did you get here?”

They spoke at the same time, eyes searching each other.

Neither noticed the danger behind them.

At that moment, it wasn’t Ye Zhao behind Song Mi, but Tang Lishi.

If Ye Zhao had seen the knife in Tang Lishi’s hand—if he’d known Tang Lishi would go so far, he’d never have let her follow Song Mi out first.

But danger unfolded right before his eyes—too fast to stop.

In the blink of an eye, Song Mi, her back to Tang Lishi and heart wholly focused on the man before her, was utterly unguarded.

It was Wen Yanli who noticed first; all he could do was shield her. “Watch out!”

Song Mi saw the man’s face flash before her eyes—their positions switched in an instant.

A muffled grunt sounded behind her.

She spun around—Wen Yanli had shoved Tang Lishi aside.

With a heavy thud, Tang Lishi hit the ground, and from her hand fell—a knife.

A burning pain shot through Song Mi’s eyes. In a heartbeat, she rushed to Wen Yanli, anxiously checking his chest, abdomen, arms, wrists. “Where are you hurt?”

“Does it hurt badly?”

Wen Yanli glanced at the wound on his arm. “It’s fine. Don’t worry.”

But at that moment, Song Mi’s composure cracked.

She whipped her head around, fixing Tang Lishi with a piercing, ice-cold glare—murderous, even.

Tang Lishi shivered on the floor.

Just before, Song Mi had slapped her so hard her face was still numb, her left ear rang, deaf to the world.

This woman’s strength was terrifying.

She’d wanted to stab Song Mi to death. If Song Mi died, the Shen family would finally know peace.

Now she was utterly disgraced, her reputation and status gone. Her own son found her an embarrassment; Shen Yanye would never want her again. Old, faded, and now with all her secrets exposed, he would avoid her like the plague. Their past promises would never come true.

What did she have left?

In that moment, she’d staked everything on driving a knife into Song Mi’s heart.

But she’d failed again.

For this woman, there was always a man to take the knife.

Seeing Song Mi approach, Tang Lishi tried to rise, but was too weak. As she opened her mouth, Song Mi’s foot lashed out.

“Ah!” An agony unlike anything she’d ever felt wracked Tang Lishi, making her curl up on the floor, wailing in pain.

Song Mi saw her writhing, but didn’t stop—another kick, and another, each one with all her strength.

She wanted Tang Lishi to truly, physically understand what pain was.

In the end, Wen Yanli rushed over and wrapped his arms around her. “Mi’er, Mi’er, calm down, don’t be angry—don’t.”

He knew she was strong, that she never hit lightly. He didn’t care about Tang Lishi’s fate, only that Song Mi might aggravate old wounds.

If she hurt, his heart ached more.

Song Mi was trembling all over, rage and frustration churning inside her, unable to find release. The effort to restrain herself left her shaking.

She couldn’t calm down, not instantly.

The man held her tightly, warming her with his arms, soothing her softly. “Mi’er, it’s alright now. Calm down.”

“Don’t be angry.”

By then, Ye Zhao, Zhang Ye, and the others had come out. Liang Liang, who’d followed Wen Yanli, strode over and hauled Tang Lishi off the ground.

Ye Zhao spoke quickly, “Let’s go—the fire is out of control!”

...

At the emergency room, Song Mi watched as the doctor cleaned, disinfected, and bandaged Wen Yanli’s wound.

Then came the blood draw. His temperature was pushing forty degrees again. After a skin test, he was put on an IV to reduce the fever.

Ye Zhao’s back was seriously injured and needed a tetanus shot and overnight observation.

Zhong Lan, Zhang Ye, Xia Yue—all their injuries were severe.

And the men Pei Qiuyang had brought to help.

That night, the hospital’s emergency and night clinics became extraordinarily busy for several hours after their arrival.

Fortunately, Pei Qiuyang and Liang Liang weren’t hurt, so they stayed downstairs to arrange treatment for the wounded.

Song Mi accompanied Wen Yanli upstairs, choosing a room next to Qiao Yudong’s for observation.

Assistant Lin and Lin Shen were hurrying over.

Earlier, their phones hadn’t been reachable—not due to Shen Yanye’s interference, but because Song Mi had sent them to meet Shen Yanlie and deliberately ignored their calls.

She’d done this so that, if anything went wrong during her meeting with Tang Lishi, she could use Shen Yanlie as leverage. If Tang Lishi couldn’t reach Shen Yanlie, her threats would hold weight.

Unexpectedly, Tang Lishi’s villa had been completely shielded from signals.

After settling in, a nurse hooked Wen Yanli up to an IV. Lying there, he looked utterly worn out, body and soul.

He just wanted to sleep.

The fever wouldn’t subside, he’d spent the night rushing about in constant worry, and in the end, had taken a knife to the arm.

Watching his fatigued face, so restless even in sleep, Song Mi was filled with aching tenderness. What was she to do with him?

How had he known to come? How did he find her?

She didn’t know how long she sat there, thinking he’d fallen asleep, until she tried to get up. He reached out and caught her hand.

“Mi’er, don’t go.”