Chapter 93: The Vanishing Sweet Potato

As night descended, Zhong Huayan gazed into the deepening dusk, where only the towering buildings shimmered with strange lights in the distance.

A chill and unease crept over her. Holding her phone, she paced restlessly. Suddenly, the sound of cars slicing through the road reached her ears. The vehicles that had left earlier that morning returned, but as soon as the car halted, the driver leapt out, falling to his knees, hands trembling before him.

Zhong Huayan stepped forward. She was accustomed to storms, and the scene before her was all too familiar.

“Madam… Sweet Potato went into the neighborhood and never came out. We thought it was your arrangement, but after seeing your message, we entered the neighborhood and knocked on the client’s door. He said Sweet Potato never showed up.”

There were only two possibilities now.

First, Sweet Potato took the fifty million and disappeared.

Second, she was kidnapped. Was it for money, or something else…?

But who would seek her out so precisely, without reason, and orchestrate a kidnapping?

Zhong Huayan turned, only to see Fu Yanyan standing behind, smoking in the shadows. Even in darkness, he exuded nobility and elegance; not a wrinkle marred his clothes, his fingers were spotless despite the cigarette, his hair slicked back. Smoke curled around him, lending him an air of worldly detachment amid his ascetic demeanor.

He descended the stairs lightly, the heavenly beads on his wrist chiming with a gentle clatter. The driver knelt, shivering, not daring to look up at his employer.

Fu Yanyan pressed the cigarette gently against the driver’s neck.

A tearing sound.

The driver squinted, hands shaking from pain, as the man standing in the night breeze spoke quietly.

“Tsk, poor Sweet Potato—gone, just like that, walking the road alone.”

“Mr. Fu, Sweet Potato may not be dead, perhaps she took the money and fled! Please, sir, don’t blame us!”

The driver lowered his gaze to the shadow on the ground, picked up the prayer beads, and an assistant placed a box of money before him.

He had never seen so much cash in his life; the red bills glowed brilliantly in the night.

Fu Yanyan didn’t bother to crouch, only laughed coldly.

“You were all picked up by me, your salaries are the highest. This stack of money could buy your life! Until the person is found, you’ll kneel here.”

Silence fell.

Only the lingering toll of the bell echoed from the villa’s shrine, someone striking the bell of Guanyin, its resonance haunting the soul.

Before leaving, Fu Yanyan listened to the bell, wiping the ash from his hands with a tissue in the shadows, saying,

“Whether your lives are sturdy depends on whether the Bodhisattva cares. Consider this kneeling your tribute to her.”

Only the drivers and mercenaries remained kneeling before the villa, sweat trickling from their brows, hearts praying for Sweet Potato’s swift return. With their strength, they could last five days at most without food or water. To others, it might have been a joke, but the man before them was a jade-faced Asura—ruthless, without a trace of pity.

From the first day they were picked up, they knew he cared only for results and order, never for feelings.

It was through such coldness that his empire grew ever larger.

Yet none of them hated him. As he said, if not for the boss, they’d have long left this world, never married, never had children, never lived like those above.

“Sweet Potato couldn’t have run off with the money. She’s not that kind of person.”

“Ah Hua, you underestimated the greed and wickedness of human nature, that’s why… You don’t need to concern yourself with those more miserable than you in this world. They won’t accept your kindness, nor will they truly consider you! Just care for yourself! Be selfish, be ruthless, be willing to sacrifice principle for survival! If I’d thought that way back then, I wouldn’t have been so careless, wouldn’t have let you suffer these wounds! So, I haven’t trusted anyone these past years.”

Zhong Huayan shuddered at his words. She suddenly felt… their worldviews were fundamentally different.

The reason was simple. She wasn’t the kind to change herself just to fit the world; in her heart, she always cherished kindness.

Perhaps it was foolish, but if only the cold-hearted and ruthless prospered, then the world would be hell, not worth staying.

“Though I’ve suffered much betrayal, I haven’t given up searching for the light. If everyone were like you, this world would be a storm of blood. What goes around comes around—one must have a conscience.

Not everyone is selfish and greedy; there are good people. I just have bad luck and haven’t met them. But I can’t let my hardships turn me vengeful, can’t see everyone as wicked, living in constant suspicion and fear.”

Fu Yanyan suddenly paused, then turned back, realizing his words had been too harsh.

He wanted to comfort her, to reach out—

But she stepped away.

She stood under the bright lamp, her face gentle yet resolute, her hair shimmering like water in the light. After all she had endured, she had not become a villain, nor compromised with the world.

The rebellious, sharp-tongued, anxious woman who once demanded perfection—she had finally grown, through death and rebirth and countless torments of human nature, into true completeness.

Those who remain true to their original hearts are Bodhisattvas.

But Fu Yanyan was not. He no longer had the chance to become one.

He stood in the darkness, his hand hovering in the air, reaching out from shadow as if pleading.

His gaze shifted from ascetic tenderness to sudden control, and he wrapped his arm around her waist, as if tearing off his mask to imprison the breeze within his embrace.

“Let go of me!”

“So our Ah Hua is truly the kindest? You’re the real Bodhisattva, I’m the false disciple.”

His arms were strong, scarred, the wounds running beneath his traditional robes, invisible. He gently caressed her waist, whispering by her ear,

“Ah Hua, look at my hands, the scars all over me—can you bear to abandon me?”

She grew quiet in his arms.

Zhong Huayan’s gaze fell upon his hand, her heart twisting painfully. She even wished she’d been struck by the burning beam instead, rather than let him bear this burden.

Fu Yanyan saw her hesitation, a smile flickering on his lips. He never found his scars shameful, never sought treatment, thus missing the best time for healing.

He had no desire for healing. He wished the scars would remain forever, so he would be like Ah Hua, so she would have more reason to pity him…