Chapter 34: Not to Be Trifled With

He glanced at his assistant and spoke lightly, “Then let’s try the second plan. We’ll go through them one by one. At the latest, we’ll take this market next year.”

“What about the Guan family…”

“If we can’t win this game of chess, then destroy the board and the pieces altogether. That way, it still counts as my victory.”

His words brought a hush over the entire room.

Only the assistant remained unfazed.

To be precise, Fu Yanyan was not only an investment genius, but also a man unrestrained by convention, one who wielded power beyond the laws of business. His concept of victory wasn’t limited to fair play; as long as he won in the end, the method meant nothing.

Yet he wasn’t entirely cold and rational. When facing things he cared about, he became more human, no longer merely a machine working at full speed.

The management admired him not only for this, but even more so because in every crisis, their boss had already prepared for contingencies, often more than one solution, all without their knowledge.

Zhong Huayan spent three hours painting without realizing it.

When she finished, she stopped. Once, she would immerse herself in a single painting for nearly a day, but now she captured its essence with greater precision.

She took her artwork, followed Fu Yanyan to the car, and the bodyguards on both sides were ever vigilant, constantly scanning for security threats.

Sometimes, she even wondered whether Fu Yanyan was busy with his own affairs at all. It seemed that whatever she needed, he was always aware—like an invisible gaze fixed solely on her.

Even the temperature of her bathwater was always exactly right, more attentive than the butlers in her former villa.

After her bath, he would lower himself to help her take off her shoes with practiced ease, just short of carrying her to bed.

She thought he would leave, but he merely went to brew herbal medicine, adding rock sugar for her sake.

Afraid she would find it too hot, he scooped it into a spoon, blew it gently to cool, and brought it to her lips.

Zhong Huayan knew she was becoming dependent on him, unsure if it was because he had been by her side since childhood, their lives intertwined from an early age, and now he treated her so well that emotions naturally developed.

She couldn’t quite distinguish what this feeling was.

For Xu Yaochuan in the past, she had simply admired his carefree spirit and boldness.

With Fu Yanyan now, it was dependence; he seemed to be gradually binding her, step by step, until she could rely only on him.

At this moment, Fu Yanyan embodied the image of a gentle jade. He always obeyed her, so long as she didn’t leave or approach other men. It was as if he could arrange everything for her.

He watched with satisfaction as she drank the medicine.

Then, he tucked her in, switched off the lights, and left in silence.

The next morning, she rose at eight and changed into the clothes brought by her assistant.

It was a red dress, just reaching her ankles, with a white down jacket draped over her shoulders.

After breakfast, she headed downstairs with her painting, ready to go to Caseta. Only after boarding did she notice Fu Yanyan beside her, wearing gold-rimmed glasses and studying investment proposals.

Seeing her enter, he quickly finished his discussion, then hurriedly zipped up her white jacket.

“My feet are so sore.”

She deliberately teased him, swinging her fair ankles clad in high heels before him…

Fu Yanyan seemed a little inexperienced, calmly removing the books beside him.

He placed her foot on his lap.

His hand easily wrapped around her ankle.

His fingers pressed gently, massaging at an unhurried pace.

“I’ll have someone bring you a pair of flats later,” his voice was deep and reassuring.

He always acted so properly, rarely meeting her gaze when he spoke.

Zhong Huayan felt that Fu Yanyan was submissive to her, almost as if he worshipped her soul.

In his presence, she was like a sacred jade Guanyin, deserving constant reverence and obedience.

Wasn’t that just the behavior of a hopeless fan?

She crossed her arms and watched him intently.

He seemed never to look at her, only continuing to massage her ankle.

Even the driver was shocked, nearly convinced he was dreaming—his boss was known for being cold and rational, when had he ever been so docile?

Arriving at the Caseta Palace, she changed into flats.

Now the palace was bustling. Outside, media friends had begun interviews and video recordings.

Zhong Huayan had no hope of keeping a low profile, for beside her stood a true living Buddha—a man whose fortune would last a hundred lifetimes.

Globally, fifteen percent of all money spent found its way back into the Fu family’s coffers.

All the media rushed forward, and only the bodyguards could clear a path. As usual, all photos related to him were destroyed at once.

If his whereabouts ever leaked online, the PR department would handle it immediately.

Professor Qin was still in the hall discussing the exhibition with new artists, when he met the young woman from yesterday.

“Ah! Mr. Fu, you arrived just in time!”

Professor Qin’s connections ran deep throughout Italy. His memory and vision were both exceptional.

Those around her stared openly—it was rare to see an Eastern face, especially one so graceful.

“Miss Li, did you bring your painting for us to see?”

“Not exactly. I was inspired last night and just painted a piece.”

Hearing this, Professor Qin quickly led the two upstairs.

On the second floor, a spacious room was filled with people, but the front seats were reserved for Fu Yanyan and his companion.

Both sides were lined with international media. On the enormous display platform, seven paintings were shown at once, from which one would be selected to advance. Eventually, from thousands of new works, the top three would be chosen.

First prize: 300,000 euros.

Second prize: 200,000 euros.

Third prize: 100,000 euros.

The winners could take an artist’s pseudonym, officially become painters, have a collection published under the Italian Art Association’s name, and hold an exhibition.

It was nearly ten o’clock; the second round of paintings was brought onto the platform.

Zhong Huayan stopped teasing Fu Yanyan and entered her work mode, quietly assessing the pieces.

As expected, the painting she picked from the seven advanced successfully.

“Xu, let’s sit next to Director Chen.”

Zhong Huayan’s ears were sharp, and the room was quiet. She heard the familiar voice, turned, and saw not only the actress from last night, but also Xu Yaochuan and Xu Yuan!

They appeared together, settling beside a well-known director.

Xu Yaochuan was the center of attention, dressed flamboyantly, with his arm around a radiant actress in a red slit dress.

Xu Yuan was clearly here for her and Fu Yanyan, coming from abroad. Her makeup was so heavy she was almost unrecognizable.

When Fu Yanyan glanced over, Xu Yuan quickly turned away in alarm.

Xu Yaochuan, on the other hand, shamelessly smiled in greeting.

The third round of paintings was brought onto the display.

Zhong Huayan’s gaze lingered on an Oriental sketch, distinctly unique amid the Western oil paintings.