Chapter 56: Fu Wenzhou, How Can You Be So Shameless

The moon hung high, its light brushing the treetops as Fu Wenzhou pressed tender kisses upon the one he cherished. His lips moved softly, lingering upon her brow before finally coming to rest on the wound upon her arm, where blood had begun to seep through. The longer he kissed her, the darker his expression became.

Damn it all.

After all the time he had spent protecting her, was Song Yuan to think he could lay a hand on her as he pleased?

Song Qingyou was exhausted from the ordeal. The gentle kisses on her arm had stilled for a long while; she wanted to tell him it didn’t hurt anymore. But when she tried to speak, her throat was so raw that only a hoarse rasp came out, so she let it go.

Fu Wenzhou slipped off the bed, found some ointment, and applied it with careful hands. The cool balm soothed the burning pain in her arm, easing it considerably.

Song Qingyou drew a long breath, her voice rough: “Fu Wenzhou, next time, take it easy.”

Her body was struggling to endure such intensity; in the heat of the moment, all they’d sought was thrill and pleasure. Now, her chest ached deeply—a clear sign they’d overindulged.

Fu Wenzhou misunderstood, thinking she meant his application of the ointment was too rough. He frowned, “Did I hurt you?”

Song Qingyou nodded, “A bit. I think we should try to keep this sort of thing to a minimum in the future.”

His face darkened, eyes cold, “Keep it to a minimum? It shouldn’t have happened at all!”

The thought of his precious one being harmed made his heart clench with pain. He wanted nothing more than to tear Song Yuan limb from limb.

Song Qingyou was taken aback, her eyes—still tinged with the flush of desire—turned to him. “Is that really what you think?”

She was surprised. Before, Fu Wenzhou had clung to her like a hound catching a scent, never willing to let her go. And now, he was the one suggesting restraint?

But perhaps it was for the best. Her body simply couldn’t take such turmoil; a little peace might do her good.

Although, truth be told, both times had been at her own request…

Her ears burned with embarrassment. Just as she was about to suggest they stop altogether in the future, Fu Wenzhou spoke again.

“Qingyou, you have to promise me—this must never happen again.”

Song Qingyou was puzzled. “Hasn’t it… already happened twice?”

“What?” Fu Wenzhou straightened abruptly, his face chilling to the core. “This is the second time he’s hit you?”

Song Qingyou was speechless.

She realized she’d misunderstood.

She’d been thinking about something entirely different…

She should have known—once a mad dog had its jaws around its prey, it wasn’t likely to let go so easily.

With a roll of her eyes, Song Qingyou impatiently brushed off his hand, which still lingered on her arm even after the ointment was applied, turned her back, and closed her eyes, not wanting to look at him any longer.

Fu Wenzhou bent over and gently turned her toward him, his arms trembling as he held her. “Qingyou…”

She tried to pull away, but his grip only tightened. When she looked up, she saw the veins standing out on his neck, his eyes burning with suppressed fury.

She stilled.

The moonlight was cold and solitary.

Very softly, Song Qingyou said, “Fu Wenzhou, my health isn’t good.”

He froze for a moment, then his embrace grew tighter, his voice rough. “I know.”

He could already guess what she was about to say, and his spine tingled with dread as he struggled to keep his composure.

Was she going to push him away again?

Why did she always turn him out so coldly after they’d been together? Did she really think he’d tolerate it forever?

Fu Wenzhou drew a shaky breath, his eyes reddening.

“If you’re alive, I’ll never leave your side. If you die, I’ll stab myself with a knife before you’re gone, so you don’t think you can leave this world before I do.” His voice turned harsh, his eyes rimmed with red. “So, you have to live well for me—at least until I find Master Yunfang.”

Song Qingyou drew a deep breath. “What I meant was, my health isn’t good, so we need to be more restrained in certain areas.”

Everything he’d meant to say ground to a halt.

He replied, utterly lost, “But you were the one who wanted it.”

Song Qingyou was momentarily choked with embarrassment. “But I never asked you to do it so many times in one night…”

Fu Wenzhou chuckled low in his throat. “Qingyou, I’ve been holding back for so long. Won’t you cut me some slack?”

She stared at him, wide-eyed. “Fu Wenzhou, you’re shameless.”

He rolled over, pulling her atop him. Their bodies fit together perfectly, and with a tug of the blanket, he covered them both, sealing them away from the world.

Song Qingyou tried to get off him, but he held her fast by the waist—his body was as hot as a furnace, far warmer than any heating device on this cold winter night.

So she simply gave in and slept right there, on top of him.

The next morning, Song Qingyou awoke to find Fu Wenzhou gone again. She frowned in annoyance.

After breakfast, a package arrived for her.

She sliced it open with a utility knife, but when she saw what was inside, her fingers froze.

There, lying in the box, was an old pair of scissors.

Song Qingyou recognized them instantly. Years ago, Song Wei had used these very scissors to destroy her long hair and the only photograph left of her mother.

Old, painful memories surged up, making her body tremble. Her palm, braced against the table, broke out in a cold sweat.

Suddenly, the phone rang.

She jolted in surprise, snapping out of her trance.

When she saw the caller ID, her expression turned icy.

“My dear little sister, did you receive my gift?” Song Wei’s voice came through the receiver, lilting with mockery—nothing like the gentle, well-mannered persona she’d shown at the Song family gathering yesterday.

Song Qingyou’s lips curved into a smile.

Yes, this was the real Song Wei.

Just as before, she was nothing more than a maggot crawling from the gutter—utterly repulsive.

Song Wei was hiding in the dance studio’s break room, smoking a cigarette. She laughed, her tone dripping with scorn: “Do you remember how you used to go to school with your hair like a bird’s nest, getting laughed at by everyone? Thinking back, I almost feel sorry for you. How could I have cut your hair? Oh, and your unlucky mother’s photo, too. Are you still angry with me? Maybe I should apologize? Hahaha…”

She laughed so hard she choked on her own smoke, tears streaming from her eyes, her gaze filled with derision. “But whether you deserve my apology is another matter. Sending you those scissors is a warning: from now on, there’s only one heiress in the Song family, and that’s me. If you die out there, don’t come crawling back.”

Now that she’d returned to the country, the title of Song family’s heiress was hers alone.

Song Qingyou’s expression didn’t change. “Song Wei, I sincerely hope you keep up this arrogance.”

Song Wei frowned. “What are you implying?”

“Nothing much,” Song Qingyou replied coolly. “Did you really think no one knows about the filthy things you did abroad?”

Song Wei stubbed out her cigarette abruptly, her voice venomous. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m warning you—don’t—”

Song Qingyou cut her off coldly: “Double Apartment.”

Song Wei’s expression changed dramatically. “Song Qingyou!”

“I want five hundred million. Transfer it to my account before eight o’clock tomorrow night, or the chance is gone.”

Song Qingyou didn’t waste another second; she hung up at once.