Zhu Ran swam toward the group. The water around him was full of fleshy pink plankton bumping into his dive mask, while the sea made crackling noises against his eardrums. He felt a slight disappointment— he should have stayed awake—but his determination to catch up overrode it. Zhu Ran kicked his legs faster and swam forward.
By now, he couldn’t see anyone else. Everywhere he looked was just himself, and he could hear his own heavy breathing.
Had he missed them? A bad feeling rose in Zhu Ran’s heart, but the next moment, a long, drawn-out call echoed through the sea. Zhu Ran was still confused and just rushed forward as fast as he could, his breathing growing ragged and his thigh muscles aching.
Had he really missed it? The thought had just surfaced when a shadow suddenly appeared ahead. The whale shark materialized right in front of him without warning.
The whale shark was enormous and serene, but it moved at an incredible speed. At its closest, it nearly brushed past Zhu Ran’s body. For those few seconds, Zhu Ran’s mind went almost blank from the shock, leaving him nearly speechless.
He had thought he’d missed it, but the whale shark had come straight toward him.
Still immersed in the shock of seeing the whale shark, Zhu Ran heard splashing ahead. The dive guide was returning and said they’d lost it and needed to get back on the boat to continue the chase. The people following him were equally disappointed, saying they hadn’t found one last time either, and now this.
The staff lowered the ladder, and everyone lined up at the stern to climb aboard.
Zhu Ran opened his mouth. “I just saw it.”
“You saw it?” Huo Jiahui had just climbed aboard and turned back in shock. “Where?”
Zhu Ran gripped the ladder behind her. The waves were big, so he had to hold on tightly to steady himself. He kicked off his fins and stepped onto the ladder, about to answer Huo Jiahui, when a massive surge from behind slammed his calf unexpectedly into the ladder.
The intense pain blanked his mind for several seconds before awareness returned.
“Zhu Ran, what’s wrong?” Huo Jiahui asked curiously. His injured calf was still underwater, so she hadn’t noticed the impact.
“Nothing.” There were people queued behind him waiting to board, so Zhu Ran endured the pain and climbed up.
Once aboard, he described seeing the whale shark, and everyone praised his luck while eagerly awaiting the next chase.
Several drones buzzed overhead in search. About ten minutes later, the dive guide said to prepare—there was a high chance of spotting a whale shark. Everyone cleaned their masks and put on fins again. Only Zhu Ran sat in a chair, motionless.
Lin Ziqing reminded him, “Little brother, hurry and get ready. They say they’ve found the whale shark again.”
Zhu Ran hurt too much to speak easily, but he didn’t want to dampen the mood. He just said, “I think I’m not feeling well. I’m sitting this one out.”
Huo Junlin was already at the boat’s edge but immediately turned back. “Where do you not feel well? Fever? Or else I…”
“Might be a bit seasick,” Zhu Ran interrupted with a smile. “I’m fine. You guys go.”
Huo Junlin started to say more, but Zhu Ran added, “Besides, I already saw the whale shark earlier. Don’t miss it this time.”
The dive guide called out again, signaling it was time to dive. People jumped into the sea one by one. Zhu Ran waved to Huo Junlin. “Go on, take lots of videos.”
Huo Junlin finally left. The crew went to the deck to watch, leaving Zhu Ran alone in the cabin—maybe with some bodyguards, but he had no energy to care.
He lifted the hem of his wet wetsuit, and even that motion made him gasp in pain. His calf was red and swollen. Fortunately, the skin wasn’t broken, avoiding infection. Zhu Ran lowered his pant leg again, in so much pain he could barely stand.
He skipped the later manta ray and sea turtle viewing, resting on the sofa the whole time. It wasn’t until evening, when the yacht headed back, that he finally got off the boat. Zhu Ran made various excuses to dawdle, staying until last.
As he stood up, a speedboat docked at the pier. Huo Boyan, wearing sunglasses, led the way, with staff carrying luggage behind him.
Why were they boarding so early?
Zhu Ran checked the time and limped over despite the pain. “Mr. Chen, didn’t you say departure was at 8 p.m.? Has the time been moved up?”
“Sorry, Mr. Zhu.” Chen Jiaming looked apologetic and was about to explain further when Huo Boyan raised a hand to stop him.
Chen Jiaming looked up curiously and saw Huo Boyan staring at Zhu Ran’s calf. He asked, “Zhu Ran, what happened to your leg?”
Zhu Ran hadn’t expected Huo Boyan to notice. He paused, assuming Huo Boyan was worried about delaying departure, and hurriedly explained, “It’s nothing. I was just walking too fast earlier—”
His ankle was suddenly gripped. Zhu Ran widened his eyes in disbelief and fell silent.
Huo Boyan half-squatted in front of him, one hand holding his ankle while the other rolled up his pant leg. His ankle wasn’t injured, but the skin gripped by Huo Boyan felt more sensitive than the wounded area.
Zhu Ran’s cheeks gradually flushed as he watched his black wetsuit pant leg roll up bit by bit, revealing the swollen, almost purple calf beneath. His skin was extremely fair, making the marks look horrifying, as if he’d endured some brutal abuse.
Huo Boyan looked up at him, expressionless. “Does it hurt?”
Zhu Ran tried to control his breathing. “It’s okay. It just looks scary—it doesn’t hurt that much.”
A sharp pain suddenly stabbed his calf. Zhu Ran gasped, tears welling up. He stared incredulously at Huo Boyan’s finger, shocked and aggrieved. “How could you do that?”
He was already in so much pain, and Huo Boyan had pressed right on the wound.
Huo Boyan didn’t see anything wrong with his actions, speaking calmly like a diagnosing doctor. “Didn’t you say it doesn’t hurt that much?”
Zhu Ran: “…”
Petty jerk, vindictive maniac, big bad egg.
Zhu Ran grumbled inwardly as Huo Boyan released his hand, stood up, and said to the accompanying doctor, “Take care of it for him.”
