"I can’t say if I’ll die, but if you keep rambling, I guarantee you’re the one who’ll end up dead right now."
Sang Ning took another sharp turn, and Wan Shaohu, before he could steady himself, slammed his forehead against the car door again.
Goddammit, Wan Shaohu was already cursing in his heart. Does she really think he’s trained in Iron Head Skill?
Sang Ning was obviously driving like she was possessed, so Wan Shaohu decided to zip it and not touch Sang Ning’s raw nerve — she wasn’t the type to listen to threats.
Fifteen minutes later, Sang Ning drove off the city’s main road and onto a narrow path in the outskirts.
The road was flanked by waist-high wild grass, clearly narrower now, barely allowing two small cars to pass side by side.
The area was remote, deserted on both sides, with only a few stray vehicles passing by occasionally.
Watching the wild grass retreat in the window, Wan Shaohu suddenly tensed and sat upright, his expression growing uneasy.
"Sang Ning, what’s the meaning of this? Are you planning to kill me and dump my corpse out here?" Wan Shaohu felt inexplicable dread; the hair on the back of his neck had already stood up.
Sang Ning glanced at him and sneered coldly: "You’re not even worthy of me personally sending you off."
Wan Shaohu felt his life was threatened, and the thought of grabbing the steering wheel crossed his mind. But Sang Ning’s icy demeanor—like an emotionless assassin—coupled with his already twisted wrist from earlier, made him realize any attempt would likely backfire and get him killed instead.
He hadn’t even acted yet. Sang Ning abruptly did a wild drift and brought the car to a screeching halt.
The sudden slam of the brakes almost made Wan Shaohu throw up. His head was spinning, and he struggled to suppress the tidal wave surging in his stomach.
Sang Ning stopped the car, opened the driver’s side door, rounded to the passenger seat, and violently dragged him out of the car.
"Ah—ouch, ouch, can’t you be gentler—" Wan Shaohu, for the first time, felt a deep and overwhelming fear. He might be a big guy over a hundred kilos, but Sang Ning effortlessly yanked him out like she was crushing an ant.
Wan Shaohu tumbled out of the car and landed hard on the ground, immediately scanning his surroundings.
It looked like the entrance to an abandoned factory. The area was desolate, wide open; even if he screamed his lungs out, it was unlikely anyone would come to save him.
Having endured Sang Ning’s torment several times, Wan Shaohu had lost his initial bravado. His tone finally softened as he spoke to her: "Miss Sang Ning, let’s be reasonable. What exactly do you want?"
"Obviously, I’m here to kidnap you. I thought I made that pretty clear." Sang Ning replied elegantly yet deliberately, slowly unwinding the elastic bandage she’d casually wrapped around her forearm before stepping closer to Wan Shaohu.
"Kid...kidnap? Miss Sang Ning, please don’t joke about this." Wan Shaohu stammered, his nerves betraying his fear.
His first reaction was panic, but then he reconsidered—kidnappings must have a motive. Gathering his courage, he asked, "Miss Sang Ning, is it about money? If it’s money, we can discuss that. I’ve got some assets—I can find a way to gather whatever you need."
Sang Ning tightened both ends of the bandage in her hands, pulling it taut so it made a sharp sound as it rubbed against the air: "I don’t need money. What I need is a reputation."
"What do you mean?" Wan Shaohu couldn’t understand her intent.
Sang Ning crouched down until her gaze leveled with his: "Your production team colluded with Qingyue to maliciously edit videos and post them online, causing massive damage to my reputation. I demand you hand over the unedited, original footage."
Wan Shaohu suddenly fell silent. Money? Fine. But this? Absolutely not!
He was deeply tied to Qingyue’s interests—if those unedited videos were released, not only would Qingyue be finished, but he’d be done for too. Forget staying in the industry; it would be game over.
"Sang Ning, you should know there’s no way I can agree to this, no matter what you say." Wan Shaohu, normally timid, mustered courage when it came to defending his core interests.
Just as Sang Ning was preparing to bind Wan Shaohu’s hands behind his back, he lunged toward her face, shouting: "Don’t push me too far!"
He intended to bite Sang Ning’s ear, but before he could make contact, she slapped him hard across the face. With a firm shove, she sent him sprawling backward onto the ground.
Grabbing his head, she hauled him upright and delivered another resounding slap to his face: "Ever wonder why I enjoy bullying people so much?"
Sang Ning repeatedly knocked Wan Shaohu to the ground, his face covered in dust as he coughed uncontrollably.
She seized the opportunity to tie his hands behind his back.
"Sang Ning, you can forget it. I admit I can’t beat you, and I can take the pain, but today, even if you kill me, I’ll never give you those videos!" Wan Shaohu had resolved to go head-to-head with Sang Ning.
Sang Ning wasn’t about to kill him—if she did, the police wouldn’t let her off. But as long as he had breath left in him, he’d find a way to exact revenge on her eventually.
Sang Ning had her usual methods of tormenting people—ways to make them feel as if they were dying but without leaving any physical scars.
People subjected to her "tender care" rarely lasted more than a few minutes before surrendering.
But Wan Shaohu was different—he was already screaming like a pig being slaughtered, drenched in sweat, yet he still refused to yield to her demands.
"Sang Ning, what kind of skill is it to simply torture someone? If you’ve got guts, just get it over with and stab me!" Despite screaming, Wan Shaohu laughed like he was on the brink of madness.
Sang Ning abruptly stopped, pulled Wan Shaohu up from the ground, and gently patted his face: "Wan Shaohu, you still have some guts left. But for what comes next, I hope you can endure it just as well."
"What are you going to do?" Wan Shaohu’s unease grew stronger than ever. He sensed Sang Ning was gearing up for a new tactic.
Sang Ning took Wan Shaohu’s phone, unlocked it using facial recognition, and held it up before him.
Wan Shaohu panicked instantly: "Sang Ning, what are you doing with my phone?"
"What do you think? If threats don’t work, we move on to blackmail: when beatings don’t budge someone, you just have to take compromising photos." Sang Ning spoke casually and without a trace of shame.
Even someone like Wan Shaohu, a man who usually indulged in wild pleasures, turned beet red: "Sang Ning, you’re despicable, shameless!"
Sang Ning cast a sidelong glance at him—it was clear she’d hit a nerve. Perfect. It seemed she’d found his weak spot.
Originally, Sang Ning planned to open his camera app, but she accidentally tapped into his photo gallery. One glance was all it took—her stomach churned, and she dropped the phone to the ground.
"Wan Shaohu, you sick pervert!"