Chapter 59: The Means of Imprisonment

Fu Yanyan slowly wrapped an arm around her waist, as if offering comfort; in that moment, all her pain and distress seemed to vanish in the calm of his eyes.

“Old Master Xu is ruthless, a man without virtue, so it’s no wonder his children are denied happiness,” he murmured.

A dinner, two tolls of the clock, three people.

A gentle breeze brushed the white drapes, water flowed downhill, and the conversation at the table was far from pleasant.

After finishing his drink, Xu Yaochuan felt heat surge through him. He loosened his collar and changed the subject. “They look so much alike, don’t you think? Was it because of her that the feud between our families was dredged up again after all these years?”

“What are you getting at? That she's a femme fatale? Or do you want to mention Zhong Huayan? Xu Yaochuan, you have no right. You’re nothing but a pawn, and you hid behind your own cowardice to avoid your guilt. Can you honestly say you didn’t know what would happen to her? On the day she was caught in that fire, you were in a hotel bed with your mistress. You knew everything. You did everything.”

Xu Yaochuan knew he was guilty.

Yet he truly didn’t want to hear that name spoken aloud.

He had never been someone burdened by guilt; he wasn’t sure why, but now he felt it.

“Boss Fu, you seem to know everything—even what I was doing that day,” Xu Yaochuan said irritably, lighting a cigarette. “I really don’t want to talk about the past tonight.”

“I was just like you once. I didn’t bring the Xu family to this point. I’m just a pawn myself.”

Xu Yaochuan scoffed. “Boss Fu, don’t kid yourself. What kind of pawn could you possibly be?”

Fu Yanyan glanced at the silent woman beside him.

Of course he was a pawn. He had drawn his own prison, willingly becoming her piece in the game. This undignified, humiliating role—he accepted it, even relished it. Over the years, he’d shared countless meals, drunk plenty of wine, endured discomfort, forced others to sign contracts... Yet never once had he known the bloom of youth; he was always composed, never angry.

Through it all, every hardship had taken the shape of her face. If he could be with her, Fu Yanyan would always be in his prime, no matter his age.

“Young Master Xu, let’s leave it at that. Rather than chase after this project, you’d be better off thinking of another plan.”

“So, that’s it? We’re all done with our old ties, then. Well, I wish you two a long and lasting future together.”

“And may the Xu family be haunted by guilt for generations,” she said.

Xu Yaochuan stood abruptly, darkness flaring in his eyes as he stared at Fu Yanyan’s hand resting at her waist.

It was a sharp, stabbing pain—not only because the negotiation had failed, but also because he found himself somewhat interested in her.

But only somewhat.

She was more formidable, more daring, more learned than other women.

He respected her.

“Heh, Miss Li, I accept your blessing. I’ll be going now.”

Outside, the attendants respectfully escorted him away, clearly intimidated by Xu Yaochuan.

It was because his presence was menacing—unlike Fu Yanyan’s open and upright demeanor.

“I’m sorry, Ah-Hua, that you had to hear all that.”

He almost wished he could wear himself out, just to make her happy. His hand circled her waist, careful and measured.

“It’s fine. I was bound to face it sooner or later. What did you mean by that project?”

“That bastard Guo San shipped the goods back to the country. I pinned it on the Xu family. Then a new policy came down from above. To avoid drawing too much attention, the project was given to the Fu Corporation.”

“Well, that’s good. How much did they invest in this?”

Fu Yanyan tapped the jade ring on his finger against the table. “About a hundred million. The agreement’s signed—both sides were set to double their profits. Now, the Xu family loses out, and their partners want to distance themselves.”

She took a sip of tea. Suddenly, the man grasped the back of her rosewood chair and pulled it closer.

He leaned in, his tone gentle yet commanding.

“Ah-Hua, are you hiding something from me?”

“You’re being nosy,” she replied lightly, setting her porcelain teacup on the table.

“Yes, I am,” he admitted, drawing her hand to his face.

Zhong Huayan felt the roughness of scabs on his icy palm.

“Ah-Hua, do you want to hit me? Go ahead, hit me as you wish. Just tell me—was the Xu family behind that kidnapping last time...?”

Her eyelids fluttered, troubled.

There was a possessiveness in his gaze; in this intimate closeness, the two of them were entangled.

“Yes. It was the Xu family.”

“Then... Ah-Hua, why hide it from me? Who’s worth your secrecy?”

Zhong Huayan wondered if he was overthinking.

Businessmen were always suspicious.

Had she been as suspicious back then, perhaps she wouldn’t have been framed and murdered.

“You suspect I have feelings for Xu Chuyin?”

“Then why hide it, Ah-Hua?”

“I’m just curious why he orchestrated the kidnapping, only to do nothing in the end.”

Fu Yanyan appeared calm, but like the sea at night, there were surging undercurrents that could settle at any moment, unseen.

“Then we should demand an explanation from the Xu family. Who do you think deserves to take the fall?”

“Given your pressure and the project, the first to go will undoubtedly be Xu Yuan.”

Zhong Huayan gazed out at the darkening night.

Right now, Xu Yuan was little more than an empty shell, propped up by her family. She had enjoyed the family’s privileges; now she would have to bear its inevitable misfortunes.

Her days were numbered; no one knew how many years she would receive.

But one thing was certain: as a worthless, petty pawn, the Xu family would never let her out—better to make a clean break, safeguard the gap between brother and sister, and avoid further trouble once she was released.

She didn’t ask how long Xu Yuan had left...

But she knew Fu Yanyan would make sure she was taken away in the most humiliating fashion.

“As you wish. I’ll go along with whatever you decide, all right?”

“No, Ah-Hua, I follow you.”

She had just started to leave when she felt lightheaded. Once she could drink without ever getting drunk, but now this body betrayed her with its frailty.

He noticed her hesitation and lifted her onto his lap. His voice was soft and coaxing, “Ah-Hua, let me take care of you. Aren’t you uncomfortable?”

Perhaps it was the alcohol, but she understood his meaning.

She gripped his chin, savoring again the sensation of holding the fate of the capital, of thousands, in her palm.

“How exactly will you take care of me?”

“My hands are quite skilled,” he replied.

She glanced down at his cold, elegant hands—hands that could soothe desire.

Pity. They looked perfect.

But touch revealed the truth: not soft enough, rough with scabs, the sensation less than pleasant.

“Stick out your tongue.”

Her hand tightened slightly, and he let her do as she pleased.

Her other hand moved lower—the click of a belt being unfastened, his throat bobbing.

This wasn’t just about bodies; Fu Yanyan was savoring the conquest of his soul and flesh by the woman he adored.

She let out a cold laugh, her voice floating like a reward. “Your hands aren’t much, but your tongue looks promising.”