Chapter 23: The Dark Horse Claims the Crown

Xu Chu suddenly understood—so her backer was Fu Yanyan... For reasons he couldn't explain, his heart ached a little. He was somewhat naive when it came to matters between men and women; he only thought that the incident in the swimming pool that day, when he almost drowned, had shocked his heart.

The Kunqu opera she had just sung sounded wonderful to him; he felt he could remember this melody for a lifetime.

“The program performed by Li Yanyan has far exceeded the judges’ expectations. It is truly the sound of heaven, a dance as fleeting as a startled swan, and even the piano piece she played could grace the grandest halls!

All of us judges have given her the highest possible score—fifty points!”

If it weren't for Fu Yanyan, she would probably have only received forty-eight points. A perfect score was almost unheard of, unless the judges simply couldn't afford to offend someone and had no choice but to give it.

Zhong Huayan glanced at Fu Yanyan beside her; he was as unapproachable as ever, giving off a cold aura at a mere glance.

In the past, he had only seemed a little sullen. Over these past three years, though, his demeanor had grown ever more severe.

“What brings you here?” she asked.

He lowered his eyes to look at her, his voice deep, seeming both reserved and brooding. “I was afraid you’d be bullied.”

Though the noise around them was deafening, she could hear him clearly.

“Thank you.”

Zhong Huayan had no desire to be too close to him. She had a strange feeling that this pervert probably already knew about her soul transmigration. She had always treated him as a friend or younger brother, and was not ready to accept his affection. Just thinking about it made her skin crawl; it was best to keep her distance. This guy, for all his good looks, was ruthless at heart.

Fu Yanyan exchanged a glance with a nearby staff member.

A hostess carried a bouquet up to the stage and placed it in his hands, while staff in the audience raised their cameras.

“Could you two stand a little closer? We'd like to get a photo.”

Reluctantly, Zhong Huayan moved closer to him.

The madness in the man’s eyes could no longer be suppressed. He gazed obsessively at the woman with the slender waist and willow-like figure; within this familiar young body was the very obsession he dreamed of day and night.

He wanted so much to taint her, to make her so sullied that no one else would want her, so she would belong to him alone.

“I’ve helped you again. Should I call you Li Yanyan or Huayan, hmm?”

Her smile instantly vanished.

He continued, his deep voice more beguiling than the piano, “I've helped you again. Aren’t you going to reward me?”

Zhong Huayan suddenly looked at him. “My neck hurts. I can’t speak.”

Damn, he wished he could slap himself—why had he been so reckless before?

He idly turned his cold, jade-like fingers, until he caught sight of the terrifying scars along his wrist—burned by fire. He hastily drew his hand back, ashamed, fearing she would find him repulsive.

“I'll let you strangle it back.”

She turned away suddenly. The ornamental hairpin in her hair swung out, striking him on his sharply defined jaw.

She had done it on purpose. With delicate steps and an extraordinary air, she descended the stage.

Even after being struck, he didn’t lose his composure in public. On the contrary, his lips curled up in a faint smile.

In that moment, he was nothing like the ascetic, untouchable god he usually appeared to be. Instead, he resembled a demon who had torn an angel’s wings.

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