Chapter 118: Yacht Fireworks

"Are you my secretary, or my father's?"

"Young Master, I am, of course, your secretary. Everything I do is in your best interest."

The secretary watched him cough through the rearview mirror, his frail frame trembling with every spasm. He couldn't help but lament that heaven often envies the gifted, and that such extreme brilliance inevitably takes its toll. He often wondered why the father and son of the Fang family were so fundamentally different—how a demon could have sired an angel. Yet, even though the angel had exhausted himself to achieve countless honors, the demon still beat and berated him night after night. It continued until the boy, driven to the edge, was covered in scars and sought refuge in hotels time and again.

When he was finally discovered, he had already attempted to leave this world by slitting his wrists, lying on the bed while humming a tune from Kunqu opera. He had cried while he sang until his voice turned hoarse—and now, the cancer diagnosis had been confirmed.

"Give me the report. Let me have some good news; it might even help with my condition."

"Very well."

"Regarding my school transfer, if my father asks, say it was my own wish. Do not mention anything that has happened recently—including, cough, cough... the gym membership. If I find that you are no longer loyal..."

"Young Master, you worry too much. I owe my ability to provide for my family today entirely to your patronage back then. For all these years, no matter how great the temptation, I have never uttered a word about your affairs. A man must never forget his roots."

"I am in your debt, Secretary."

He looked toward the distance, watching a woman’s graceful, swaying figure as she walked toward a low-key, luxurious car. She took a cigarette offered by the driver and climbed inside.

"Now, what about the upcoming performance at the Brazilian Concert Hall? Do you still intend to go through with it?"

"Cancel it. All recent performance invitations can be declined."

"And the variety show? The one about musical popularity? Your father explicitly demanded your participation."

"Cancel those as well."

The secretary rarely saw the Young Master act with such obstinacy and stubbornness. Before, he had endured his family's lashings, but now, he seemed resolved to let everything fall apart, determined to defy his family at any cost. This ability to face the bleakness and glory of life with such composure was not something a young man should possess. Perhaps, in the wasted years of his youth, his soul had long since perished in repeated bouts of depression, causing his body to wither just as rapidly.

Yet, what the secretary admired most about the Young Master was that, regardless of what he suffered, he always remained polite to his subordinates, maintaining a rare sense of humility and kindness toward everyone.

***

Fang Wenjin reclined in the back seat, sighing softly. He looked at the increasingly fragile veins on his wrists, digging into a scar until a few beads of blood welled up. If it weren't for this broken, ruined body, he might have fought for what he wanted, but... one cannot be that selfish.

The evening breeze carried the loneliness of autumn, but the streetlights on both sides of the city were already blazing bright. They illuminated the capital—a place of desire for so many—making it look even more prosperous. Yet, beneath this glitz, crowds of people bustled to and fro, tireless and hurried. They all sought stability or material success, happily climbing their way up, adding a touch of vibrant color to this bustling metropolis as it faded into the night.

She sat in a car belonging to the Fu Group. The man beside her wore a face mask, yet his calm and steady temperament was unmistakable.

Fu Yanyan was dressed casually today in a simple black jacket, wearing a one-of-a-kind watch. Even the peripheral vision of his eyes remained fixed on her. He pulled the woman’s waist toward him with a firm motion, allowing her to playfully tousle his hair.

"Where are you taking me to play today?"

He rarely wore a cap or mask, doing so only when out in private to avoid trouble.

"Blue Port Marina in the capital."

"I haven't been there in a long time."

Fu Yanyan rested his long legs on the back seat, positioning them to make it more comfortable for her to sit on his lap.

"Does your knee still hurt?"

"This little pain is nothing."

"Pretending to be strong."

She sat down from his lap, intent on pulling down his pants to properly check how the wound was healing... but just as her small hands grasped the drawstring of his trousers, the man felt an uncontrollable surge of heat. He turned his head away, a look of indulgence in his eyes, and caught her delicate hands. He leaned toward her ear, intentionally making it tingle as he whispered:

"No rush. We can take a good look tonight on the yacht."

"Fine. I’m giving you a full physical exam later."

"My dear sister, if you could manage me like this every day, I’d be more than willing, even if you were punishing me."

"You certainly need to be managed. You’re becoming increasingly unruly."

Though Zhong Huayan looked innocent, her gaze was as sharp as a knife, just as it had been in the past. However, after she swept her eyes over the man beside her from head to toe, the severity instantly vanished, and she began to ponder to herself.

***

Although this boy’s heart was growing increasingly rotten, his looks and figure were becoming all the more captivating.

Fu Yanyan thoroughly enjoyed being viewed by her like this; if it were anyone else, he would have ensured they paid a bloody price.

The two sat in the car as they reached the Blue Port Marina, where the capital's tallest tower could be seen, dazzling and eye-catching.

The autumn night deepened silently. The area was filled with giggling couples and tourists. From the yachts docked nearby, the wealthy elite of the capital emerged, most accompanied by mistresses. As they passed by, they couldn't take their eyes off the man in the cap, Fu Yanyan, as he walked toward the most luxurious yacht. Then, when they caught sight of the woman beside him, they were left speechless in astonishment.

"That woman just now looked exactly like the late Chairwoman of the Zhong Group."

"Not just like her—if you don't look closely, she's identical."

"But there are differences; she looks younger. I remember the Chairwoman had a tear mole at the corner of her eye."

"You didn't look carefully. The man with her, he looks so familiar, I think I've seen him somewhere, too."

"You're all drunk. Let's go get a drink. I heard someone brought in a bunch of fresh girls from out of town. That body... that backside... tsk tsk, it's absolutely incredible."

The wind by the river was always the coldest.

Fu Yanyan’s black coat swayed in the breeze. He looked at the woman’s dress fluttering in the wind, a slight smile playing on his lips. He pulled her waist in a satisfied embrace, tucking her under his black jacket. From a distance, they looked inseparable. Under the night lights, they seemed a little more grounded, more human.

The woman allowed herself to be enveloped by his overbearing warmth, walking step by step onto the pre-arranged yacht. They whispered to each other, leaning close. In this cold, indifferent city, there was always someone to shield you from the wind and rain—perhaps they might arrive late, but they would never be absent.

The assistant on the yacht was off duty today. He leisurely poured half a glass of red wine, watching the two figures swaying and playing in the light. He felt a sudden pang of emotion. Having followed his boss for so many years, having survived many life-or-death situations, he rarely saw him act with such ordinary, human warmth. In this moment, he finally looked like a person.