Fu Shenxing’s voice had become hoarse, and the meaning behind it was clear.

He Yan stood still, taking a few deep breaths, her expression slowly softening. Without a word, she walked toward him, crouching above the sofa under his watchful gaze, and quietly reached for his belt buckle.

He reclined lazily, eyes lowered, his thick lashes hiding any sign of emotion. She, too, avoided meeting his gaze, her lips pressed together, fingers working methodically at his trousers. The tiny button slipped through her trembling fingers, and despite her best efforts, she couldn’t undo it right away.

Beneath her touch, his body began to react. By the time she finally managed to unfasten it, his impatience had already surfaced—it sprang out, brushing against her hand. She stiffened, humiliation surging through her, her eyes closing as she braced herself. Just as she was about to lower her head, his large hand unexpectedly lifted her chin.

He applied just enough pressure to leave her no room for resistance, pulling her up as he commanded in a rough tone, “Get on.”

Her hand shaking, she fumbled in her coat pocket, pulling out a foil packet. Before she could open it, he snatched it from her and threw it aside. Then, with a firm grip on her arms, he lifted her and placed her on the sofa. She bit her lip, her voice strained but steady. “Mr. Fu, it’s better to be cautious. For both our sakes—not just mine, but for your health as well. Don’t you agree?”

“I don’t like them,” he answered bluntly, stripping her coat off in one swift motion, leaving her in the black dress she wore beneath. He leaned back again, hands running up her pale thighs, his touch gradually pushing her skirt higher as he rasped again, “Get on.”

With no choice but to obey, she placed her hands on his shoulders. Under his unblinking stare, she lowered herself, forcing his immense weight into her body like a searing iron rod. He inhaled sharply, gripping her waist and pulling her down until he was fully inside her.

For a long time, she couldn’t adjust—her body was too tense, too rigid. Yet he, unusually patient, remained still, watching her with intense focus. Only when her body began to relax did he gently tap her hip, signaling her to move.

Not daring to provoke him, nor wanting him to mark her again, she followed his unspoken command, moving at a steady pace to please him. His expression finally shifted, showing a trace of satisfaction. His hands rested lightly on her waist, his breathing growing heavier with each movement.

“What was the other option he gave you?” he asked suddenly, his voice laboring.

Her movements faltered slightly, but she quickly resumed with a mechanical rhythm. She deliberately sped up, hoping to hasten the end, and replied evenly, “To have sex with you—publicly.”

Her choice was clear: either she would be humiliated by every man present, or she would have to submit to him in front of them all. She chose the former because, to her, the latter was even more degrading.

His grip tightened, halting her. He looked at her coldly. “So you think the first option was better?”

His breathing stopped instantly. All her efforts had been in vain. Frustration surged through her, but she also found his reaction absurd. With a mocking laugh, she challenged him, “Mr. Fu, am I to understand this as jealousy? Would you really let me choose the second option? Let me be mounted by you in front of your men, as Fu Suizhi eagerly proposed? Would you allow that humiliation? Could you even get hard for it?”

Her words were sharp and relentless. At that moment, he realized—since stepping into the room, she had been nothing but rational, composed. Even as she pushed him to the brink, her body and emotions remained detached, unaffected.

A slow, mocking smile spread across his lips. He didn’t answer, instead gripping her waist and pulling her down hard, taking control. Though seated beneath her, the dominance was entirely his.

She struggled to keep up with his pace, soon overwhelmed, fighting not to collapse. Fearing injury—and that he might bruise her waist—she gasped, “Softer... please…”

A cold smile flickered on Fu Shenxing’s lips. He stopped as she requested, but before she could catch her breath, he suddenly stood, lifting her with him. She cried out in surprise, clinging to his shoulders for balance.

He carried her swiftly toward the floor-to-ceiling windows. There, he turned her around and pressed her hands into the glass. With a swift motion, he tore her skirt away.

Pinning her from behind, he leaned in, his teeth grazing her ear as he whispered maliciously, “Do you think people downstairs can see us?”

Their reflection on the glass was stark. She, disheveled and naked; he, fully clothed, a beast disguised as a gentleman. Her jaw clenched, humiliation, forcing her eyes shut. But he wasn’t finished. Grabbing her hair, he yanked her head back, growling, “Open your eyes. Watch. Watch me take you.”

Then he thrust into her again.

Her eyes snapped open, blazing with fury. The fire in them reflected at her through the glass, twin flames of defiance. From that moment, she never looked away—never begged, never flinched. She locked eyes with his reflection, imprinting every second onto her soul. Every indignity. Every scar.

She hated him. She wanted to tear him apart, to feel his blood on her hands.

He stared back through the reflection, their gazes locked. An unrestrained ecstasy surged through him, beyond control. He thrust harder, faster, until his body tensed, shuddering violently—until, in his mind’s eye, fireworks erupted beyond the glass.

Much later, his body relaxed. Releasing her, he stepped back and looked down at her. She was utterly disheveled, but her face showed no emotion, only cold, calculated defiance. That bitter, unyielding resistance filled him with twisted pleasure, yet he also loathed it.

“Get the rest from A-Jiang,” he said coldly, turning toward the bathroom.

But she suddenly asked, “Can I take the disc with me?”

He paused, lips twitching with amusement. “Of course,” he said. “But it’s just a copy—not the master.”

“That’s fine. It still plays,” she replied.

Her legs were trembling. She leaned on the glass to steady herself. Instead of picking up her shredded dress, she walked to the sofa, grabbed her coat, and wrapped it around herself before taking the disc.

Fu Shenxing watched, confused, but didn’t press further. Smirking, he added, “If you liked it, we can film more.”

“No, thank you,” she answered calmly, slipping the disc into her coat pocket.

A-Jiang, who lived downstairs, handed her a large shopping bag. It contained her phone, wallet, and the clothes she needed.

He Yan examined everything quietly. Seeing that nothing was missing, she offered a polite, “Thank you.”

A-Jiang blinked, staring at her as if she were insane.

She didn’t change immediately—just slipped on her shoes, wrapped herself in the coat, and stepped outside.

Hua Jie, true to her word, was still waiting downstairs. When she saw He Yan approach, she opened the door with concern. “Are you alright?”

He Yan didn’t answer right away. After a pause, she simply said, “Sorry—I dirtied your coat. I’ll get you a new one.”

“Oh, it’s nothing!” Hua Jie waved it off. After a moment of hesitation, she added, “Honestly, I knew you weren’t like us. But you didn’t mind wearing my coat. That means a lot to me.”

He Yan smiled faintly but said nothing.

Hua Jie noticed she wasn’t wearing anything under the coat and offered, “Why don’t you change in the backseat?”

“No need,” He Yan declined. “But could you take me to a budget hotel? I need a place for the night.”

“Of course.” Hua Jie readily agreed, driving her to a modest hotel.

Before getting out, He Yan handed her phone number to Hua Jie. “Thank you for everything tonight. If I ever have the chance, I’ll repay you. But... things with Mr. Fu—they’re not what you think. I’m afraid you might be disappointed.”

“Oh?” Hua Jie was slightly embarrassed, having been seen through so easily. “Miss He, I meant no offense.”

“I know,” He Yan said softly. “That’s why I’m thankful.”

She took the bag and went inside. After showering, she examined herself in the mirror. The red marks on her neck were the only visible signs. She sighed in relief, then pinched her skin until the bruises turned into red welts, concealing the original marks.

The next morning, she bought emergency contraceptives from a pharmacy before heading to campus. She called Liang Yuanze, adopting a weary tone: “Yuanze, these students are driving me crazy. Weren’t we so well-behaved back in the day? Never caused trouble for our teachers…”

Liang laughed and comforted her. “Take your time. If it gets too much, just report it. Let the leadership handle it.”

“How can I not be anxious?” She lied, her voice laced with guilt. “I’m so stressed my throat’s sore. Can you pick up some throat medicine on your way home?”

That evening, Liang returned with several boxes. But when he saw the marks on her neck, he was shocked. “What happened to you?”

She rushed to the mirror, pretending to examine herself. “A colleague said this helps reduce inflammation. I tried it. You know what? It really works—my throat feels much better now.”

“Nonsense,” Liang scolded her.

“It’s fine. Just looks bad.” She clung to him playfully. Then, almost casually, she added, “Oh, Yuanze, can you buy me a new charger? The one at work broke. My phone died last night, and it was turned off—I had to borrow one today.”

She had patched up every hole in her story. She hadn’t come home because of a student emergency. Her phone was off because of a dead battery. The bruises on her neck? Just a folk remedy.

Liang suspected nothing. He trusted her completely, even more tenderly.

Later that night, something about her sudden passion troubled him. He joked as they collapsed together, “Babe, what’s gotten into you lately? Trying to devour me whole?”

She stiffened, but recovered instantly. Leaning close to his ear, she whispered, “Maybe I’m just hitting that age. Isn’t it said that women turn into wolves at thirty? I’m about to become a big bad wolf—and you, my little lamb, are in for it.”

Unable to resist, he flipped her over. “Let’s see who eats whom tonight.”

But when gentle men turn feral, they’re even harder to bear. She sobbed, trembling in his arms, crying for mercy.

At the final moment, when she felt her soul slipping away, she clung to him tightly, murmuring, “Yuanze… take me away. Let’s die together, shall we?”

“…Okay,” he answered.