Leave If You Dare! (GL) - Chapter 10

Lin Zi hadn’t seen Qin Ximo since that day when she encountered her waiting on her way home from work. When Qin Ximo appeared, she brought with her a whirlwind of overwhelming force, but when she chose to lie low, it was as if this woman didn’t exist in the world at all.

Life went on as usual, yet for some reason, Lin Zi couldn’t shake the feeling that nothing was truly over. It was like an invisible chain binding her fate—you could never predict what would happen tomorrow or whom you might meet, but you knew with certainty that you would cross paths with certain people again, no matter how much time passed. It was as if they had been waiting somewhere all along, and you knew, beyond any doubt, that it would happen.

Just like the evening gown Qin Ximo had promised to send, which arrived right on schedule.

The courier delivered it straight to her rented apartment. As Lin Zi signed for it, her heart tightened. She hadn’t expected Qin Ximo to already know her address—or rather, she hadn’t anticipated just how much information Qin Ximo had gathered about her. But upon reflection, it made perfect sense. With Qin Ximo’s power, all it took was a name, and she would know everything connected to it—what the person was familiar with, what they weren’t, what they loved, what they despised. Qin Ximo would grasp it all and then use it to keep them firmly under her control.

Just like how she had stripped Lin Zi bare in three minutes flat, binding her to the bed without needing any tools.

“Please sign here,” the courier said cheerfully, handing her a pen.

Lin Zi took it and was about to sign when the courier quickly added, “You have the right to open and inspect it first, since it’s a high-value insured item.”

It was just a dress—what kind of “high-value insured item” nonsense was this? Lin Zi scoffed inwardly at Qin Ximo’s fussiness. Besides, she was convinced that whatever gown Qin Ximo had prepared for her couldn’t possibly be normal—it was probably a fully sheer fishtail dress with a tiny thong to match.

If she had to pull something like that out in front of the courier, she might as well forget about preserving any dignity.

“Thanks, but it’s fine. I’ll sign now,” Lin Zi said, quickly scrawling her name on the form.

After closing the door, she placed the gift box on the windowsill, hesitated for a moment, then finally untied the silk ribbon securing the exquisite packaging.

In her memory, Lin Zi had received clothing as a gift twice. The first time was on her seventh birthday when her mother gave her a pink frilly dress and insisted she wear it in front of over two hundred guests at the party. That idea turned out to be disastrous. Though Lin Zi looked like a little princess straight out of Dubai royalty in that dress, she simply couldn’t handle such attire—starting with the fact that she couldn’t take care of it. Within just one day, before the party even ended, the pink dress was already stained with juice, cake frosting, and alcohol. When Ming Fengluan questioned her, even Lin Zi herself had no idea how those stains got there. Lin Wangran was furious and scolded her, calling her a wild child with no grace befitting a young lady. Looking back, perhaps all of Lin Wangran’s grievances against her had accumulated from these small incidents. Maybe from then on, he never truly cherished Lin Zi as his daughter.

So, was Qin Ximo trying to follow in Lin Wangran’s footsteps? Sending a cutesy, pink outfit, expecting Lin Zi to suppress her true self beneath its prim and proper facade—not the person wearing the clothes, but the clothes dictating the person, giving the wearer enough confidence and courage to play their role.

Lin Zi took out the dress, unsure how to feel, but it was indeed unexpected. What Qin Ximo had sent wasn’t the frilly pink dress she’d imagined, but a sleek black dress that practically screamed “seductive.” Lin Zi held it up for barely a glance before tossing it onto the bed.

How could she possibly wear something so blatantly designed to lure men?

Qin Ximo had severely overestimated her taste.

“Xiao Lin, you have a visitor,” the old landlady’s voice suddenly called from outside, accompanied by a knock.

Lin Zi opened the door. “A visitor? Who?”

“She says she’s your aunt,” the old woman replied cheerfully.

Puzzled, Lin Zi glanced downstairs and spotted a familiar white BMW parked inconspicuously on the street.

It was Qin Ximo’s car.

Just as Lin Zi looked down, the car door swung open, and a pair of slender, porcelain-white legs gracefully emerged. The owner of the car then leaned slightly, stepping out with effortless elegance until she stood poised on the asphalt.

That head of soft, raven-black hair like seaweed—who else could it be but Qin Ximo?

As if on cue, Qin Ximo looked up and smiled at Lin Zi.

Persistent as a ghost. Hadn’t she already sent the dress this morning? Did Qin Ximo have some supernatural ability to know Lin Zi wouldn’t wear it, forcing her to come personally and supervise?

Lin Zi steadied herself, turned to the landlady, and said, “Thank you.” Then she grabbed a coat, threw it on, and headed downstairs in her slippers.

Qin Ximo leaned casually against the car, idly admiring the scenery of the neighborhood until Lin Zi emerged from the stairwell and approached her with slight hesitation. Only then did Qin Ximo turn her head, leisurely observing Lin Zi as she walked toward her. Lin Zi carried a gift box still wrapped with ribbons, striding forward under the intense afternoon sun. The golden, almost translucent light bathed her completely. She wore a blue and purple plaid cotton long-sleeved shirt over a white square-neck camisole, paired with soft gray cotton trousers and a pair of ordinary black flip-flops. Despite her simple attire, her unstudied hairstyle, and features that—though undeniably lovely—might not strike others as breathtakingly beautiful, she exuded a unique visual appeal to Qin Ximo.

Lin Zi was like a wild, resilient weed—thriving and fragrant no matter where she was planted. Unlike the meticulously polished heiresses Qin Ximo had encountered, who were groomed from head to toe as if mass-produced in a styling factory, their smiles and tears all following the same script, their makeup applied with rigid precision. Being around such girls was smooth but utterly dull.

Perhaps it was Lin Zi’s unpredictability, her immeasurable nature, that stirred Qin Ximo’s desire to explore and unravel her. This longing lurked like a small beast beneath the surface of a tranquil lake, occasionally surfacing to greedily inhale the rare fresh air before retreating back into the depths to savor the memory in secret.

Even as Qin Ximo stood face-to-face with Lin Zi, she felt like an unseen voyeur—an act that seemed cautious but was in fact audaciously bold. It gave her a faint, inexplicable thrill, as if she were reliving the moments when she had pinned Lin Zi down, bending her until she was breathless and helpless. The sight of Lin Zi gritting her teeth, unable to resist, ignited Qin Ximo’s deepest urges for release and domination. No distractions—just the singular focus of setting Lin Zi’s body aflame, making her wet over and over again.

“Here, takes this back,” Lin Zi said, holding out the gift box. Her gaze flickered briefly, not deliberately avoiding Qin Ximo’s stare, but after a few seconds, she still subtly averted her eyes.

Without so much as a glance downward, Qin Ximo turned and opened the rear car door, tilting her head slightly.

Lin Zi guessed Qin Ximo wanted her to get in—a fox offering kindness to a chicken, no doubt with ulterior motives. But rather than openly calling her out, Lin Zi simply asked calmly, “What’s this about?”

“Taking you somewhere,” Qin Ximo replied with a bright smile. “You won’t be disappointed.”

Lin Zi’s heart tightened. “I have things to do. I can’t go out today,” she blurted. Qin Ximo’s smile was warm, but to Lin Zi, it carried hidden meaning. Though she didn’t know exactly what Qin Ximo intended, she understood the principle that the farther she stayed away, the safer she’d be.

Qin Ximo didn’t back down. Instead, she casually strode forward in her high heels. Lin Zi abruptly raised her head, glaring at Qin Ximo, who merely smiled leisurely. She reached out as if to dust something off, then pressed down on Lin Zi’s shoulder—a seemingly light touch that carried deliberate weight. Caught off guard, Lin Zi swayed slightly. As she tried to twist free, Qin Ximo tightened her grip, leaning in with feigned intimacy to whisper by Lin Zi’s ear, “You’d better come with me quietly. Otherwise, you’ll only embarrass yourself.”