Chapter 84: Addiction of the Body

Zhong Huayan stepped into the villa, her slender fingers holding a white gardenia blossom. In the moment when sunlight poured in, she was lovelier than the flower itself. She had changed into a white trailing dress; the hem broke off at her left foot, while the other side draped to the floor, her bare feet crushing the fallen gardenias, filling the space with their rich fragrance.

The lighting in the villa was dim. Behind the walls, an epic battle unfolded in bas-relief, carved from black jade, depicting endless armies clashing on the field. She stood there, her hair cascading lightly, offering him a half-mocking, elusive smile, as if she were a saintly icon conjuring forbidden dreams.

"Oh dear, look, the flower has been crushed," she said, her voice mature and decadent.

Just as she entered the villa, the man was dressed impeccably, a beast restrained in the night’s darkness, smoldering beneath his suit—civilized yet savage.

Half his face was shrouded in shadow, unmoving and unreadable. Only his hand betrayed impatience, spinning prayer beads until, suddenly, the string broke and scattered beads across the floor.

The assistant, just arriving with documents, saw the scene, hurriedly closed the door, and retreated.

Zhong Huayan’s soul was wounded, her character crippled by betrayal and isolation, weathered by years of storms. Yet, remarkably, she had never inflicted her pain upon others.

But the insecurity that gnawed at her heart found no place to rest, and so she projected her emptiness onto those closest to her.

He confessed his love with burning intensity, again and again, a devotion that drew her ever deeper. Behind her lay the battlefield, blades flashing, while ahead was a haven.

She needed to vent her anxiety.

Fu Yanyan strode over in a few large steps, pinning her against the wall like the warrior in the bas-relief, advancing, consuming the last of her reason.

He admitted it—she had defeated him. Three years of tranquil meditation, chanting Sanskrit prayers, all undone in a single encounter. The earth shattering beneath him. He became jealous, calculating, uneasy... Her presence was enough to destroy him, and he could do nothing to stop it. All his power, useless in the face of her.

"Slow down, it hurts," she pleaded.

He could not restrain himself, pressing forward with increasing ferocity until she finally broke.

From that collapse surged a fulfillment, her insecurity soothed, her wild abandon intoxicating, an addiction that wrapped around her like a fever.

Since that night, after surrendering to him, she found pleasure in pain.

In his submission, she found solace.

Ever since Zhong Huayan became the head of the Zhong Group, she numbed herself with endless work, ignoring everyone and everything, living like a machine, lost daily in the tides of the stock market and corporate investments.

She never had time to consider herself. Often, she sat in her luxury car, gazing at the towering company—inside, filled with the hopes of countless families, sustaining lives. Her relatives depended on her wealth... Though she was never short of money, she could not stop.

She avoided matters of the heart, scarred by witnessing her parents’ failed marriage.

In her ears, tender breaths lingered.

Her back pressed against the wall, the sofa, the bed—everywhere marked by their shared traces.

All his public masks fell away before her.

Civilized yet savage.

"A Yan, I want more," she demanded.

At her command, he nearly crushed her softness in his hands, placing her by the window, her legs draped over his broad shoulders, trembling uncontrollably.

He smiled, "Ah Hua, it's already been an hour. Are you sure?"

"I’m uncomfortable, hurry up," she insisted.

Though his advances were wild, he respected her wishes, pausing when she was in pain.

Fu Yanyan’s physique was astonishing, his body sculpted like a masterpiece, pure yet decisive. His features were coldly beautiful, every gesture calm and unhurried—except in bed, where he became fierce. But even his fierceness was for her pleasure, his efforts driven by the hope she would be happy.

Kneeling before her, more earnest than in prayer, she leaned on the window, her slender frame draped in the torn white dress, like a goddess in Greek myth with her devotee.

When gold wind and jade dew meet, it surpasses all joys of this world.

He held her tightly at the end, whispering, "Ah Hua, you’re addicted."

Addicted?

She tilted her head slightly, "Maybe you serve me too well."

Indeed, there was no way to describe a man like him. If not for her brother years ago, she would have consumed him entirely.

Perhaps these years had made her more restrained, her thinking somewhat rigid.

Always trapped in financial data, yet that fire was a crucible—after unbearable pain, she was reborn from the ashes.

Now, she slowly understood the joys of the world, the warmth of ordinary life.

At last, the two embraced, drenched in sweat, she gazing up at the bas-relief on the ceiling, everything seeming like a splendid dream.

Until her body felt itself sinking, falling endlessly, until sleep claimed her.

Fu Yanyan first covered her with a white cashmere blanket, then rose, sweaty, fastening his belt, looking out at the dusk, lighting a cigarette.

Outside, the assistant knocked.

"Come in."

Assistant Li entered, seeing the aloof, ruthless CEO, now smoking, a haze curling around him as he calmly buttoned his shirt.

Sweat drenched him, and the room was filled with the entwined scents of gardenia and sandalwood, humid and thick. Only when the window latch opened and the wind swept in did the sultry atmosphere dissipate.

"Mr. Fu, based on the surveillance footage provided by the police, we’ve confirmed Xu Chuyin’s location. Shall we act now?"

Fu Yanyan took a deep drag, glancing at the sleeping woman behind him, her alabaster fingers idly stroking her chin. Suddenly, he spoke coldly.

"No rush. Alone, it’s pointless. This is a trap."

"Yes, Mr. Fu, you are always right."

Faced with his boss’s unexpected gaze, the assistant wondered if his flattery had been too hollow, too insincere.

"Mr. Fu, when we reviewed the surveillance, it seemed deliberately staged. The Xu brothers are at a critical time, yet they make no effort to hide. If not for their strength, they’re clearly luring us in."

Fu Yanyan looked at the gardenia blossoms filling the yard. He had planted them years ago, when he first came to Australia to start the company. As spring blossomed, today the gardenias were no longer lonely, cold and isolated, but full, exuberant with pain, warm in the twilight.

"Assistant, have people stationed there. Watch closely. What are the brothers really up to?"