Time ticked by, the sunlight outside the window growing increasingly blinding, yet he felt no warmth. Fear and despair, like two cold, venomous snakes, coiled around his neck, tightening their grip.
He walked to the window, watching the cars and people below swarm like ants. The world continued to function as usual, bustling yet indifferent; no one cared about the tragedy unfolding in his corner.
He even had a hallucination, as if he saw his father in some dark corner, enduring fear and pain, and he was powerless to help.
"Ah—!"
A suppressed growl, like that of a wounded beast, finally burst from his throat. He slammed his fist against the cold glass window, the sound dull thud. The glass didn't budge, but his hand instantly swelled and throbbed with excruciating pain.
This pain, ironically, cleared his chaotic mind slightly.
He couldn't give in.
Absolutely not.
If he yielded now, not only would he fail to save his father (would someone like Lu Tianyu really keep his promise and release him?), but he would also let all the injustices sink without a trace, let the evildoers go unpunished, and might even implicate Chen Kai, Su Yuqing, and others who tried to help him.
He had to take a gamble.
He gambled that the other side wouldn't dare to actually harm his father yet, and he gambled that Su Yuqing and her team had the ability and were willing to get involved in such a dangerous situation.
He took a deep breath and, with trembling hands, picked up his old phone, its battery almost dead. The screen flashed a red low battery warning, like a countdown to his death.
He dialed Su Yuqing's number and began composing an extremely short, cryptic text message containing crucial information. He had to use the fewest words possible to convey the most essential SOS signal, and he couldn't directly mention his father's kidnapping, lest the message be intercepted and cause serious consequences.
Every word weighed heavily.
This was his last hope, and a high-stakes gamble.
The phone screen flashed a glaring red light, the numbers next to the battery indicator jumping incessantly, like Lin Chen's dwindling time and hope. He huddled in the darkest corner of the room, as if only then could he draw a sliver of false security. He wrote and deleted, deleted and wrote again, to send a text message to Su Yuqing.
Should he directly say "Father kidnapped"? No, too direct, too risky.
Should he vaguely ask for help? Insufficient information; she might not understand the urgency.
Finally, he gritted his teeth, using all his strength to type a line:
"Reporter Su, this is Lin Chen. My family is being threatened and urgently needs help. Their location is likely in or around our hometown. We have a debt of 80 million, with a deadline of today. My old number will be deactivated."
He dared not mention Xingyao, dared not mention Lu Tianyu, only using keywords like "family threatened," "debt," and "deadline" in the hope that Su Yuqing would understand the seriousness of the situation. He included his father Lin Jianguo's name and the approximate address of their hometown, then pressed send.
The message notification had barely appeared when the phone screen went black and went completely silent—the battery was dead, and it had shut down automatically.
The last fragile channel of communication with the outside world was severed.
Now, all he could do was wait. Wait for Su Yuqing to receive the message and take action, wait for fate to pronounce its verdict on his gamble.
Time had never felt so slow and agonizing. Every second felt like an eternity. He strained his ears, catching any unusual sound outside the door, both hoping it was a signal for help and fearing it was a death knell. His nerves were stretched to the limit; the slightest sound would make him jump.
In the intervals of waiting, a profound emptiness and despair washed over him like waves. He went to the small corner where he worked with his music and picked up the old, dusty guitar. The strings were cold and unfamiliar to the touch.
He tried to strum them; the dry sound was particularly jarring in the silent room. He closed his eyes, trying to recall the melody of "Mountain Question," the song that had once flowed through his veins like blood. But what surfaced in his mind were the vicious comments condemning him online, Lu Tianyu's cold, scrutinizing gaze, his father's painful groans on the other end of the phone, and that cold document listing 87 million in debt…