Using His Own Methods Against Him

Ryan kept the car moving at a steady pace, the surrounding road growing increasingly desolate—nothing but abandoned wooden houses, waist-high wild grass, haphazardly discarded old furniture, and endless trash. Paired with the slanting evening sun, it looked like a classic scene from an American horror movie.

"Where is this?" Taylor still glanced around nervously.

Ryan turned to size up Taylor in the passenger seat.

Her white spring jacket was worn backward over her front, her body slightly curled back as she stared at him warily.

At that moment, Taylor's mind flashed with some grim social news stories—men luring women they'd just met to remote, isolated places...

Her heart raced. Just as the thought of calling the police surfaced, Ryan turned the wheel, and a busy repair shop came into view.

"It's a bit out of the way, but at least the repairs are fast and convenient. My car was modified here before," Ryan said, then got out to chat with the repair shop workers.

"Couldn't you have told me sooner?"

Sitting in the car, Taylor felt a wave of relief, then let out a wry laugh. She pulled a pair of Chanel sunglasses from her handbag, put them on, grabbed a baseball cap, disguised herself a bit, and then got out.

Compared to the woman in sunglasses and a baseball cap, the repair shop workers seemed more interested in the car.

Ryan wasn't wrong—not only was there no wait, but the workers were skilled. Panel beating, painting, polishing—it took less than half an hour, and everything was restored to its original state, with no trace of the earlier gruesome "injuries."

"Considering your mother drives this car, she might get upset if she saw it," Ryan said as he sat back in the driver's seat.

"Is this your way of hitting on girls?" Taylor asked out of nowhere.

"I don't think that's necessary," Ryan replied lightly.

He was doing this purely for Trey's sake, including helping her drive the car out earlier. Personal preferences aside, she and Trey were business partners.

From what he remembered, the original owner, with his face and build, had never actively pursued any girl. On the contrary, since his school days, girls had always chased him.

"So they'd think the car's AC system isn't working?" Taylor asked with a smile.

"Many times I went in for repairs, the mechanics would impatiently tell me the AC wasn't broken at all," Ryan said.

With the misunderstanding cleared, the atmosphere in the car began to relax.

"Have you ever matched with a girl in the car?" Taylor asked, squinting.

Ryan knew he had, Taylor knew Ryan had, Ryan knew Taylor knew he had, but Ryan still chose to shake his head.

"Tch, I don't believe that," Taylor said without surprise.

Just as he was about to turn the wheel and head back the way they came, Ryan suddenly spun it in the opposite direction, sending the car away from home.

"I never said I didn't want to go home," Taylor said, flicking her golden hair and giving Ryan a deliberately seductive glance.

At dusk, the sunset painted half the sky red, the fiery clouds magnificent and brilliant.

An SUV parked in a barren patch under a tree slowly started up. Both front windows rolled down simultaneously. Taylor, who had just pulled on her top, leaned close to the window and took a few deep breaths, the flush on her face especially vivid.

Then she pulled up her slim-fit jeans and said without thinking, "Since you worked so hard, I'll give you a chance. After the new EP drops this summer, the lead single from the new album will shoot an MV. I'll still pick Trey as the director, and you'll still be the male lead."

She had personally decided on the male leads for the previous MVs. An MV always needed a male lead, and who she chose didn't make much difference to Taylor.

Then she started fixing her hair, making it look less messy, adjusted her collar, stretched out her hem, lifted her chin, and repeatedly checked the rearview mirror for any marks on her neck. Once satisfied, she put on her shoes, and finally wrapped the scarf she'd been wearing earlier around her neck—everything looked like nothing had happened.

Ryan hadn't expected this small-town country beauty to be so unrestrained behind closed doors. Though he knew a relationship with someone like that was doomed from the start, occasionally letting loose was acceptable.

Don't let a single bad woman slip by, right?

"Does Trey have your number?" Ryan tried, implying he wanted to stay in long-term contact with Taylor.

Taylor immediately grew wary, recalling Ryan's earlier words.

She didn't know his past—who knew what kind of person he was? And he was a model. Better not get too tangled up with that crowd... After a few seconds of thought, Taylor made her decision.

She said, "Listen, I don't want you to misunderstand. You're a gentleman, and you're great in that department too—I'm really, really satisfied. But I'm incredibly busy right now. I have to record a new album, and I doubt I'll have the mind for dating. Maybe we could develop things further in the future, but for now, at least, let's not stay in touch."

"Forget everything that just happened, don't mention it to anyone—is that it?" Ryan said with a smile as he drove.

Taylor turned to him: "You're smart, and you're passionate. That's exactly why I didn't want to deceive you—what I just said is my honest truth. My parents always taught me to protect myself when I'm out. I admit I was a bit impulsive just now, but that's because I trusted you. If you think I'm the problem, we can end the collaboration, anytime."

First, say something nice, then chalk her behavior up to impulse, and finally slip in a veiled threat.

Ryan's smile grew more bitter, but he knew the gap in their statuses well. If he pushed back, he wouldn't just lose the MV male lead role—it might even affect Trey.

So, rationally, he had to go along with her wishes? Writing songs for an ex-boyfriend was a business move—it wouldn't land on him anyway. It was just a casual hookup; why ask for more?

"There are still three full months until summer. Who knows, I might get kicked out by Trey before the MV even starts filming," Ryan suddenly said.

"That's your problem."

"You're right. So, to make a living, I'll just have to turn this afternoon into a song and sing it at bars in Nashville. Don't worry, I won't mention you—that fits your confidentiality request. But I'm a bit crude, so the lyrics might be explicit, like those booty music tracks. You wouldn't mind, would you?" Ryan smiled.

Turning someone else's private matters into a song and spreading it around—wasn't that exactly what Taylor was best at? He was just giving her a taste of her own medicine.

Taylor whipped her head around, glaring at Ryan.

"Actually, you could look on the bright side. My songwriting skills are so terrible that no matter what I write, I could never make a name for myself by selling out someone else's privacy like you do. Doesn't that make you feel better?" Ryan kept rubbing salt in the wound.

Taylor's eyes at that moment looked like she wanted to kill Ryan!

Only then did Ryan say unhurriedly, "And now, you have a chance to solve this once and for all—buy the song."

"Are you trying to blackmail me?" Taylor laughed in disbelief.

"That's called selling the rights—mutual consent." Ryan stepped on the gas.

Half an hour later, Ryan walked out of Taylor's mansion in the wealthy district. She had finally agreed to his request, which put him in an exceptionally good mood.

Just as he turned a corner, he saw an ambulance parked not far away, its lights flashing, with personnel performing emergency CPR.

As Ryan drew closer, the medical staff placed an AED defibrillator on both sides of the victim's chest. With the current passing through, the victim's chest jolted upward.

A familiar, intense sense of déjà vu struck again, almost identical to when he'd met Taylor. But unlike before, this time it caused a momentary freeze in Ryan's consciousness.

One, two, three—the defibrillator's sharp, piercing beeps seemed to morph into a rhythm. The tremor intensified, and Ryan's heart felt as if it were vibrating in sync.

Then the beeps evolved into a continuous chord progression. The low drumbeat swelled infinitely, layered with deep sound effects, creating a powerful sense of motion—like a volcanic eruption, bursting with raw energy.

A melody composed of multiple tracks, lasting several minutes, surfaced in Ryan's mind.

Then Ryan realized this wasn't a traditional pop song. There was no vocal singing at all—only a single "3.2.1 go!" vocal bar in the pre-chorus. Yet it still had a structure similar to pop music: intro, verse, chorus, and bridge.

Ryan glanced at the neon-lit music bar sign not far away, listening to the acoustic guitar drifting out from inside. He shook his head, then looked toward the nightclub on the other side. The powerful low-frequency bass in his mind fit that kind of place perfectly. At the same time, the song's name began to surface in Ryan's consciousness—Tremor.