My boyfriend Vincent was a special forces soldier specializing in bomb disposal. To save a woman, he endured inhumane torture at the hands of a terrorist organization. His fingers were cut off, his tendons severed, and the tip of his tongue was chopped away. From a proud and noble man, he was reduced to a fool who drooled when he spoke. He had no idea that the woman he was trying to save was the beloved of Simon, the leader of the terrorist organization. It was all a trap, designed to lure him in. On the day I heard the news of Vincent’s death, I committed suicide by jumping into the sea. When I opened my eyes again, I found myself the most favored captive of Simon. The original owner of this body was used to wearing heavy makeup, but I wasn’t. I remember that on the second day after transmigrating into this body, I showed up in front of Simon without a trace of makeup. He grabbed my chin and forced me to look up, a half-smile on his face. “You don’t look like Jilly without makeup.” So today, I deliberately applied makeup to imitate Jilly’s look. I even added a tear-shaped mole at the outer corner of my right eye. I was planning to get rid of someone. Tiger, Simon’s right-hand man. When Simon rushed into the room after getting the news, I was in Tiger’s arms. Tears streamed down my face. Tiger loomed beside me like a mountain, his face flushed from drinking, his eyes gleaming with greed. I shook my head, crying out “No—” while pushing against him with what seemed like feeble strength. “If your brother Simon finds out, he won’t let you off!” Tiger laughed loudly, his gold teeth shining. “You? Just a substitute for Miss Jilly. Brother Simon doesn’t care.” “A nobody. Do you really think Brother Simon would care?” I felt humiliated and was determined not to let him succeed, struggling to move backward. He licked his lips. “What a beauty. No wonder you’ve been able to stay beside Brother Simon for so long.” He was about to make his move. It was at that moment that Simon burst in. He held a pistol, his face cold and stern. I cried out to him, “Simon, save me—I’m not pure anymore, Simon. I don’t want to live.” I knew that with my face slightly tilted to the right, I resembled Jilly the most. When Tiger saw Simon approaching, instead of backing off, he touched my face. “Well, you little thing. You really called Brother Simon here.” He turned to Simon, grinning widely. “Brother Simon, I’ve risked my life for you all these years. Can you give this girl to me?” Everyone around Simon feared him. Even if it was just a woman, as long as she belonged to Simon, she was his private property, and no one dared to touch her. After Tiger said this, I knew that the drug I had slipped him to induce mental confusion had taken effect. Simon’s handsome brows furrowed deeply. He stood there, silent, weighing his options. Should he choose the woman or his brother? Tears streamed from the tear-shaped mole on my face as I sobbed, “Simon, if you really give me to him, I’ll die!” Simon raised an eyebrow, maintaining that careless, half-smiling demeanor. “Alright, Tiger, Cherry is yours.” Tiger’s face lit up with joy at Simon’s permission. Just as he was about to touch me, I closed my eyes in despair. But in the next moment, Simon’s expression changed completely. He looked incredibly sarcastic, his tone fierce: “You? You think you’re worthy?” “Bang!” Tiger’s head jerked to the side, a hole appearing in it. I had bet correctly. Simon strode over, shoved Tiger aside, and lifted me by the waist. “It’s okay. It’s okay,” he murmured. “No one dares to touch you.” I leaned against his shoulder, trembling uncontrollably, but a chilling smile curved on my blood-stained lips. Vincent, was this how it felt when Tiger cut off your fingers and the tip of your tongue back then? Turning my head, I caught a glimpse of Tiger’s disbelieving eyes, still open on the ground. Good riddance.
Vincent and I met in a war-torn foreign country. Terrorists had invaded the hospital and strapped a bomb to me. Vincent led a team to rescue me. I was so nervous that cold sweat poured down my face as I clenched my teeth. He smiled, his eyes clear behind the mask. “Don’t be afraid. I won’t let you die here,” he comforted me. For two whole hours, Vincent knelt beside me, meticulously dismantling the bomb. I had never stared into someone’s eyes for so long. Even now, whenever I close my eyes, I can still picture his face in my mind. The bomb was finally removed, but after a five-second pause, it triggered a new countdown. Only ten seconds left. Vincent’s expression tightened. He grabbed my hand and rushed me out of the hospital. Just as we burst through the doors, he yanked me into his arms, throwing us both to the ground. His body shielded me completely. The next second, an explosion roared behind us. The entire makeshift medical point was obliterated. Sand, mud, and debris rained down from the sky. The man on top of me frowned from the force of the blast, but I felt nothing. Only the sound of heartbeats. Deafening heartbeats. Drowned out by the explosion. After that day, Vincent often visited the newly built medical point. One day it was, “Dr. Leo, I got bitten by an ant on my thumb.” The next day, “Dr. Leo, I got pricked while picking flowers.” And the day after that, “Dr. Leo, I think I have a heart problem. The kind only you can treat.” Seeing me blush with anger as I tried to shoo him away, he would laugh, a triumphant glint in his eyes. From then on, he claimed he had two missions: to fight against terrorists and to protect me. But one day, he simply stopped showing up. He was kidnapped by the terrorist organization. The group had taken a Chinese woman hostage and specifically demanded Vincent by name. If he came, they promised to let her go. Vincent didn’t hesitate. He went alone, willing to trade his own life for hers. The terrorist organization live-streamed the scene of Vincent’s torture. They wanted him to work for them, to make bombs. Vincent would rather die than submit. On the screen, Simon sat opposite him, watching coldly as Vincent was hung up. In his lap was the so-called Chinese woman, Jilly, the hostage. She had her arms draped around Simon’s shoulders, smiling coyly. “Simon, he’s so stupid. He actually came to save me.” “Do you think he has a crush on me?” she teased. Simon, not even glancing at Vincent, casually replied to Tiger, “If he doesn’t comply, cut off his fingers and chop off his tongue tip.” He leaned in to plant a light kiss on Jilly’s red lips. “I want to see how he can dismantle bombs after that.” Jilly giggled, “Leave him two fingers on each hand. After all, the feeling of being worse than dead is the most interesting.” With a swift swing of his knife, Tiger severed Vincent’s fingers, blood gushing from the wounds. Vincent’s screams of pain echoed through the live stream. As a doctor, I had witnessed many deaths in the war, but it was the first time I understood the depth of such agonizing screams. My heart ached as if it were being sliced by thousands of knives, and tears streamed down uncontrollably. It felt as if the cuts on Vincent’s body were also inflicted upon mine. In the following days, Simon continued to live-stream Vincent’s torment. His head hung limply, his mind foggy, and the blood from his severed fingers had dried to a dark crust. Because his tongue tip was cut off, his mouth couldn’t close, and saliva constantly dripped from the corners of his lips. He couldn’t care for himself and had even lost control of his bladder. All he did was stare blankly at the camera, murmuring repeatedly, “Marilyn, I’m okay.” My heart shattered into a thousand pieces, the pain so intense that I felt like I might die. Even in this state, he was still trying to comfort me! Is this really okay? Is this really okay?! My Vincent, my proud Vincent. The Vincent who dismantled bombs with calm, confident smiles, always there to comfort me. The Vincent who came to the hospital just to tease me, laughing joyfully when he succeeded. He should have always shone like the sun, standing tall like a pine tree. He should have returned to our country, glorified and honored. He shouldn’t be like this. He shouldn’t be like this. A week later, the news of Vincent’s death arrived. He was dead. … After Tiger died, I stood frozen, my eyes cast down, silent and seemingly docile—almost frighteningly so. Perhaps my frightened demeanor unnerved Simon. He kissed my hair, constantly reassuring me that it was okay, that everything was over. He brought me before his subordinates, made me sit on his lap, and declared that I was his woman and could only belong to him. Anyone who dared to touch me again would meet the same fate as Tiger. Simon had Tiger’s head severed and displayed as a warning. His actions made me think I was important to him. But it wasn’t enough. I had to be important enough for him to marry me. Only then could I give him the ending he deserved. But what I didn’t expect was that, not long after, Jilly returned. She played with a knife against my face, smiling with amusement. “Your face does look quite like mine.” In the next moment, she clung to Simon’s arm, whining, “Simon, I haven’t practiced shooting in a while. Can I practice on Cherry?” Simon, casually smoking, patted her hand and said, “Sure.” Jilly’s idea of practice involved me putting an apple on my head as a target. I looked at Simon, pleading silently. He knew I was terrified of gunshots. Whenever one went off, he would cover my ears. But this time, he just had a cigarette in his mouth, a smile on his lips. “Cherry, Jilly just likes to practice this way. She’s a great shot. She won’t miss. Don’t worry.” I closed my eyes, standing frozen in place. No, I couldn’t resist. I couldn’t lose my temper. I had to be gentle and docile, playing the role of Simon’s captive well to earn his trust. As Simon had said, Jilly was indeed an excellent shot. She hit the apple on my head in one shot, the force knocking me to the ground. My elbow scraped against the ground, blood oozing from the wound. The loud gunshot made my ears ring. I bit my lip hard to keep from crying. I thought of Vincent. He had given me a gun, saying that in war, anything could happen, and told me to use it for self-defense. He taught me how to shoot. Standing behind me, he held me close, guiding my hands into the right position on the gun, teaching me step by step, his voice low and steady in my ear. Our bodies were pressed tightly together, the air he exhaled brushing against my skin. I don’t know whose ears turned red first. He had promised that as long as he was alive, no one would dare to bully me. But Vincent, the one who protected me, is gone. What am I supposed to do now, alone? Jilly was bouncing around, wrapping her arms around Simon’s neck. “Simon, look! My shooting is still as good as ever!” Simon didn’t even glance my way; his eyes were solely on Jilly, his expression affectionate. “Just stop when you’ve had enough fun,” he said, a faint smile playing on his lips. Jilly rolled her eyes. “Not enough!” This time, she made me place the apple on the side of my face. I knew she had been annoyed with my presence for a long time. Simon glanced at me, his Adam’s apple bobbing as if he wanted to say something, but all he said was, “Alright, if you want to play this way, go ahead.” But this time, Jilly missed.
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