Spring's Hiding in the Foggy Courtyard

The flames were about to lick Savannah’s fingertips when Zachary ordered the bodyguards to pull her back.

“Let me go, Zachary… let me go! I hate you—don’t make me hate you!”

She thrashed and kicked, sobbing in agony, but the bodyguards’ grip never loosened.

In the end, she collapsed, utterly spent, onto the ground. Helpless, she watched as every memory, every cherished remnant of her past, slowly burned to ash.

“Ms. Savannah, why get so worked up over mere possessions? Look at you now—your aura and fortune are in even greater disarray. I fear this will only invite greater calamity!”

Arms crossed, Angela shook her head and sighed at the spectacle of Savannah’s breakdown.

“Calamity? *You* are the calamity!” Savannah struggled to her feet, lunged forward, and slapped Angela hard across the face.

“Ah!” Caught off guard, Angela stumbled backward and landed in a heap.

Zachary rushed over without hesitation. As he moved to steady her, his elbow slammed hard into Savannah’s already weakened frame. She fell gracelessly to her knees, her right knee crashing onto a sharp stone. Skin tore instantly; blood welled up and quickly soaked the black fabric of her dress.

“Savannah, have you lost your mind? How dare you lay a hand on Angela! Apologize to her—beg for her forgiveness!” Zachary’s voice was icy, his eyes fixed tenderly on Angela’s rapidly reddening cheek.

“I will *never* apologize to her. It’s *she*—the arsonist, the fraud—who should be apologizing to *me*!” Savannah forced herself upright, her gaze locked on Zachary, each word deliberate and sharp.

“Ah, Ms. Savannah’s obsession has festered into true darkness in her heart… Forget it. She is a pitiful soul. I won’t hold it against her.”

Angela’s voice dripped with false compassion. Extricating herself from Zachary’s arms, she ordered a bodyguard to fetch a bowl of clean water. Taking a dagger, she pricked her fingertip and, with a dramatic flourish, wrote a complex charm on a blank sheet of yellow talisman paper. She burned the paper to ashes and dropped them into the water.

Savannah noticed it—the subtle movement as Angela brushed her right index finger against her silver ring. A fine white powder, almost invisible, fell into the bowl along with the ashes and dissolved instantly.

“Drink this charm-infused water. It may break the hold on Ms. Savannah’s heart. A good deed brings its own reward.”

“I won’t drink it!” Savannah refused vehemently. “What did you put in there? I saw you!”

Angela’s expression turned cold. She shook her head with disdain. “It seems my efforts are all in vain. So be it. Zachary, from now on, the fortunes of Ms. Savannah and your family are no concern of mine!”

She thrust the bowl into Zachary’s hands and made to leave, but he pulled her tightly back into his embrace.

“Someone! Pry her mouth open!” Zachary commanded, his face an emotionless mask as he glared at Savannah.

The bodyguards swarmed forward, restraining her. One moved with practiced efficiency, dislocating her jaw. Savannah could only watch, helpless, as Zachary himself tilted the bowl and forced the talisman water down her throat.

As soon as she was free, Savannah scrambled, fingers clawing at her throat, desperate to vomit it up. Zachary immediately ordered the guards to bind her hands and feet with rope.

“If she can endure for twelve hours, the darkness in her heart will surely be broken… I hope Ms. Savannah will not spurn my goodwill this time.”

With that, Angela’s face paled dramatically. She went limp in Zachary’s arms, her voice a faint whisper as she claimed the ritual had drained her energy and she needed immediate rest.

“Angela, hold on! Just hold on!” Zachary didn’t dare waste a second. He gathered her up with exquisite care, as if cradling a priceless, fragile treasure. Savannah, bound hand and foot with her jaw dislocated, was left behind on the ground like a sack of garbage—discarded without a backward glance.