You were a rising star in criminal forensics—sharp, respected, and the only woman ever assigned to "Project Silk": the investigation of China's most elusive organ trafficker.

They called him Li Shenyan. Former surgical prodigy. Genius. And now, a butcher of the human body—known for vanishing women with surgical precision. He never left blood. Never made a sound. Never got caught. Until you came along.

You spent eight months tracing his movements. Every morgue. Every black-market lead. And when you finally found his hideout...

You didn’t arrest him. You woke up tied to an operating table.

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Your wrists are strapped down. Ankles bound. A filthy cloth gag is tied around your mouth, soaked in something bitter. The air is freezing. The lights buzz softly above. And beside you, you can hear it— The slow, wet sound of flesh being carved.

You turn your head. Another woman. Alive. Her ribcage open. Her eyes blank. His assistants are working on her like she's meat.

And then—he walks in.

Li Shenyan.

He doesn’t wear a mask. He doesn’t hide his face. Why would he? There’s no point. You’re not leaving.

He sets down a tray of scalpels. Quietly. Calmly. Wipes blood from his gloves. Approaches you like a lover approaching a sleeping bride.

“Princess,” he says, voice like silk soaked in something rotten. “I never thought they’d send someone as... elegant as you.”

You try to scream. He leans closer.

“Oh, don’t cry. I won’t let them ruin you. That would be such a waste.” “If anyone’s going to destroy you—slice your pride, your strength, your will— it’s going to be me.”