VESSEL - Extinction Countdown 994: Hand of God

Morning sunlight spilled over the sheets, a faint, sweet fragrance wafting through.

Ye Shisan woke but broke into a cold sweat moments later. He lay on the bedroom’s big bed, teetering on the edge—one more roll and he’d hit the floor. Vanilla sprawled like a monkey wreaking havoc in heaven, lay face-up in a big X, her little head snug against him, silvery-white hair cascading across his chest.

For a fleeting instant, the beast within roared, urging him closer—just to inhale her delicate scent.

He eased away, desperate to escape the awkward moment, but Vanilla’s small hand clutched his arm. When he shifted slightly, she gripped tighter, muttering dreamily: “Uncle Shisan, don’t send me away…”

Ye Shisan froze, surrendering.

Vanilla, like an octopus, nestled closer, her frail frame hugging his arm, her face radiant with contentment.

For five minutes, time halted—or rather, Ye Shisan’s time did. Never had he imagined a fairy-like girl bursting into his life, asking for nothing but a home to feel safe in.

He recalled his own childhood, rootless and alone. Hadn’t he yearned for that same fragile wish?

But could he really keep her?

He didn’t dare linger on it. His phone’s ring shattered the stillness.

Vanilla stirred, flashing a smile adorable beyond words. “Uncle Shisan, It's the first time I didn’t have a nightmare! Will you sleep with me again tonight?”

“We’ll… talk later,” Ye Shisan mumbled, scrambling off the bed to grab the phone, realizing his pajamas were soaked in sweat.

A haughty, mature voice cut through—Secretary Hu. “Ye Shisan, Director Lin’s calling for you. Car’s here in thirty minutes.”

“I’ve got a shop to run!”

“Don’t waste my time. What’s your daily take? I’ll cover it. Get ready, and no casual clothes.”

The line went dead.

Vanilla shot him a suspicious look. “Uncle Shisan, you got a woman out there?”

“Quit it, kid. She’s not even a friend!”

“Hmph! I don’t buy it!”

“Believe what you want. After breakfast, head to Ms. Wang’s. I’ve got business, shop’s closed today.”

“Ha! Knew it! Off to see that woman? Try to steal my Uncle Shisan? No way!”

Despite her pouty huff, Vanilla fetched his only suit.

“How’d you know where my clothes are?”

“I live here, so I tidied up! Your tie was fraying—I stitched it. Socks too. What’d you do without me, huh?”

Ye Shisan chuckled, struck by the realization that Vanilla wasn’t just watching cartoons—she was making this place home.

He rushed through washing, slipped on the suit, knotted the tie, and stood before the mirror.

Vanilla gasped. “Wow, Uncle Shisan, you’re a total heartthrob!”

He grinned. “Darn right, your uncle’s a looker!”

“Pfft, vain much?”

Soon, the car pulled up. Ye Shisan hopped in, and it sped off. Vanilla shouted after it: “Uncle Shisan, don’t let that woman charm you!”

The car tore out of the city, climbing Linqing Winding Road. Ye Shisan tensed—this was the route to the mental hospital. But it blazed past the place he’d spent twenty years in, gone in under two seconds.

Then it hit him: this road led to the airport.

What he didn’t expect was the car slipping through a special gate, rolling onto the tarmac, pulling up beside a twin-engine Global Express XRS—a luxury jet worth over a hundred million, even secondhand. Director Lin Changrong was no small fry.

Secretary Hu strode up, her eyes sparking at Ye Shisan’s sharp look, lingering a moment. “On the plane, keep your mouth shut, got it? Do what Lin says. No questions.”

Ye Shisan chuckled lightly. “What, selling me off?”

Hu snorted. “You? Wouldn’t fetch a wheel on this plane. Save it.”

He boarded. The nineteen-seat cabin held just two men.

One he knew: Lin Changrong, the crash survivor, senior director of Xiehe Medical Group.

The other, Lin’s age, rocked a slicked-back hairstyle, a cigar clamped in his mouth, nine gemstone rings flashing on his fingers—a flashy tycoon vibe. He spoke first. “Lin, this the guy?”

Lin Changrong smiled. “Introductions: this is Young Master You Hailong of Dragon Gate. And this is my new pal, Ye Shisan.”

Dragon Gate—a global syndicate, dabbling in both legal and shady business with a sprawling reach. You Hailong, the deputy leader, was second only to his father, You Dragon King.

Ye Shisan offered a hand, but You Hailong ignored it, sizing him up. “This kid’s your ‘Hand of God’?”

Lin nodded.

“He’s younger than me by a decade, looks green. Lin, this is my dad—my only dad. Don’t mess this up.”

Lin chuckled at You’s nerves. “Hailong, you trust me?”

“Of course, Lin! Why else would I put my dad’s life in your hands?”

“Then hear this: Ye Shisan’s the closest to the Hand of God I’ve ever seen. No one else even comes close.”