He Yan would never dare use her body to provoke him at a moment like this. She obediently walked over and sat beside Fu Shenxing, saying nothing, her gaze absent as she stared at the wine set on the coffee table.

Across from them, Fu Suizhi cast them a glance, sneering as he waved over two alluring women and immersed himself in his own revelry.

The atmosphere in the room became even more boisterous. People drifted over from afar to offer toasts to the Fu brothers. Those with closer ties simply sat down and joined in, chatting and laughing about everything and nothing. One of them grinned and asked, “Young Master Fu, you’re staying this time, right?”

Fu Suizhi, already a bit tipsy, glanced at Fu Shenxing and said, “What do you say, Brother Xing?”

Fu Shenxing remained impassive. “You’ve been studying abroad for so long—now that you’ve started, you might as well finish it properly before returning.”

“You really are my blood brother!” Fu Suizhi cried exaggeratedly, then glanced at He Yan. Suddenly, he shoved the woman next to him off the couch. “Go! Sitting next to Brother Xing. I want He Yan back.”

Caught off guard, the woman was thrown to the floor, her charming smile freezing midair. She dared not switch seats, only forcing a coy pout, “Young Master Fu, you’re teasing me again!”

But Fu Suizhi didn’t laugh. Treating her like a stray animal, he lifted his foot and kicked her, enunciating each word: “I told you to go and switch places with He Yan.”

The room fell momentarily silent. No one here was a fool—some crude in speech perhaps, but none without shrewdness. Someone quickly stepped in to smooth things over: “Young Master Fu, no need to fuss over one girl. Don’t like her? Just swap her. Sister Hua’s got plenty of fine goods.” He gestured to the fallen woman, “Go, call Sister Hua.”

Fu Suizhi sneered, eyes locked on Fu Shenxing, though his voice remained lazy. “No need. I only want He Yan.”

He Yan knew she couldn’t wait any longer. She had to push this further, forcing Fu Shenxing, if only for pride, not to hand her over to his brother.

“There’s no need to strain your bond over me,” she said coldly. “If you insist, I’ll accompany Young Master Fu instead.”

Without sparing Fu Shenxing a glance, she stood and moved toward Fu Suizhi. Just as she was about to reach him, her heart nearly despondent, Fu Shenxing’s voice finally rang out behind her, cool and indifferent:

“You’ve had enough, Suizhi. A-Jiang, take him home.”

Fu Suizhi was stunned—clearly not expecting Fu Shenxing to publicly cut him down like that. Before he could react, A-Jiang was already at his side. He Yan swiftly stepped aside, clearing the way as A-Jiang forcibly escorted Fu Suizhi out.

Fu Suizhi threw one last bitter laugh toward his brother. “You were the one who said she was mine. What now? Regret it?”

Fu Shenxing’s face remained calm. His tone, however, cut deep: “I offered her as a favor. But if you don’t want the courtesy, I won’t extend it again.”

Fu Suizhi’s face turned livid. The room fell into uneasy silence.

Fu Shenxing continued, “And Suizhi, remember: I tolerate you because you are Fu Suizhi—my brother. They respect you only because you are my brother. Grow up. Stop acting like a spoiled child.”

Those words were sharp, brutal. Fu Suizhi’s face flushed, then paled with fury. A-Jiang, fearing an irreparable scene, swiftly dragged him out.

The gathering, intended to celebrate Fu Suizhi’s return, was now in disarray. No one was in the mood to party anymore. All feared Fu Shenxing’s wrath and chose their words carefully.

Fu Shenxing didn’t plan to linger either. His face still cold, he turned and left the room. Just past the doorway, he abruptly reached back and seized He Yan’s wrist.

She had been on edge the entire time. His sudden grip made her flinch. She dared not struggle, only quickened her pace to keep up with him, afraid he would leave bruises again.

He stormed down the corridor, her wrist in a vice. At the corner, he suddenly swung her forward.

She stumbled, crashing into the wall, biting down her cry of pain, glaring at him with quiet fury.

But this wasn’t enough to quench his rage. Two steps forward, he clamped a hand around her slender neck, pinning her to the wall.

His voice was cold, dangerous. “He Yan, I have no desire to possess you. I couldn’t care less how many men have had you. Tonight, you got your way only because Fu Suizhi crossed me. This will not happen again. Use that clever mind of yours elsewhere. Don’t try my patience.”

He Yan couldn’t breathe. Her face flushed crimson, but she didn’t fight back. She stared at him with icy defiance.

After a long moment, Fu Shenxing smirked and let go. She bent over, coughing violently. When she finally straightened up, he was already gone.

The corridor was empty—waiters had wisely vanished. No one dared glance her way.

Wiping the tears from her eyes with the back of her hand, He Yan walked toward the exit with her head held high. Outside, she watched as Fu Shenxing’s car vanished into the night.

She had nothing on her—not her phone, not her wallet, not even the clothes she’d arrived in. Dressed in a scandalous black dress fit only for the red carpet, she was freezing in the autumn night air.

She could live without her wallet or phone, but she needed those clothes. Without them, she couldn’t lie to Liang Yuanzhe—not about where she had been, or why even her underwear had been changed.

She clenched her jaw, ready to borrow a phone from a nearby valet, when a soft voice called out, “Miss He?”

She turned to see a stylish woman in her thirties approaching. The woman smiled warmly, “You're Miss He, right?”

He Yan didn’t reply, watching silently.

“I work here,” the woman explained. “Everyone calls me Sister Hua. I saw you came with Mr. Fu. Leaving already? Don’t want to stay and have some fun?”

He Yan remembered hearing the name earlier—Sister Hua, the madam of the place. “No. I’d like to go home early,” she replied coolly.

“Perfect! I’m heading back to the city too. Ride with me—I hate driving alone at night!” Sister Hua chattered, taking off her own coat and draping it around His Yan’s shoulders. “It’s freezing tonight. You’ll catch your death like this.”

He Yan couldn’t help but smile bitterly. “Sister Hua, you’re far too kind.”

“It’s nothing. I’ve got enough blubber to keep warm,” she said cheerfully, leading He Yan to her car. Once inside, her tone changed, quieter, wearier: “These days, it’s always women who suffer. Don’t take it to heart, girl. All men are just damned bastards.”

He Yan blinked, surprised by the sudden frankness.

“Just nonsense, ignore me!” Sister Hua chuckled. “Where to? I’ll drop you off.”

He Yan hesitated. “May I borrow your phone first?”

She needed to call Fu Shenxing to retrieve her things.

“Of course.” Sister Hua handed it over without question.

He Yan dialed from memory. The phone rang for a long time before it was answered. “Fu Shenxing,” he said flatly.

“Mr. Fu, my things are still in your car. I need them back,” she said, equally calm.

A pause. Then: “Come get them.”

He gave her an address and hung up.

It was clearly his residence. He Yan hesitated. What was he planning?

Sister Hua watched her carefully. “Well?”

He Yan gave her the address. “Is it convenient? If not, I can take a cab.”

“No trouble at all!” Sister Hua beamed, steering toward Fu Shenxing’s place. The gate guards waved them through without question.

Downstairs, He Yan dialed again. Before she could speak, his cold voice came through: “Come up.”

She didn’t want to. Not at all. That man was unpredictable and dangerous. But after a long silence, she clenched her jaw and turned to Sister Hua.

“Sister Hua… do you happen to have a condom?”

Without blinking, Sister Hua handed her two from her purse. “No problem. I’ll wait down here. If you decide to stay, just call me.”

He Yan didn’t know why this woman was being so kind, but she accepted the help. “Thank you.”

She stepped out of the car as she was walking to her own execution.

Fu Shenxing’s apartment occupied the entire top floor. The elevator opened into a lounge area with a few rest chairs, and beyond that was the actual apartment door. Before she could knock, A-Jiang opened it.

“Mr. Fu is in the upstairs lounge,” he said, expressionless.

She said nothing and headed upstairs. The carpet muffled her steps as she reached the slightly ajar door and knocked lightly.

“Come in,” his voice called from within, distant and cold.

She pushed the door open. The lighting was soft, the room spacious. Floor-to-ceiling windows lined one wall. The curtains were open, the dark glass reflecting the interior like a mirror.

Near the window were plants, a bookshelf, and a rattan chair. Closer to the center were the sofas.

Fu Shenxing lounged on one, still in the same clothes, his expression calm. He was watching a projection screen.

He Yan stepped forward—then froze.

He was watching that video.

The one he’d directed. The one showing her being violated.

Her throat closed. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t think. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

She forced herself to remain upright, to stand tall. He wanted to destroy her. She would not give him the satisfaction.

The volume was low, but the sobs from the video seemed to grow louder, sharper, stabbing into her ears.

He finally looked at her, eyes dark. “Do you like it?” he asked. “If you do, take it. The quality’s excellent.”

She gathered every ounce of strength to answer evenly, “Alright.”

Still watching her, he said softly, “Come here.”