Chapter 6: The Buddha's Child and Desire

She rolled her eyes. For the first time, Fu Yanyan refused her request and even hung up on her. Right now, she was just a stranger with no connection to him—if compromising meant settling for his assistant, so be it.

Before she could send a message, the sound of a key turning echoed outside the door. In the dimness, Xu Yuan burst in, her face mottled with bruises and colors.

“Li Yanyan, who do you think you are, calling Fu Yanyan! The rumors at school are true—you’ve found yourself a sugar daddy! Shameless!”

Zhong Huayan seized on her sore spot, her tone dripping with sarcasm. “Xu Yuan, yes, I’m with Fu Yanyan now. He’s amazing in bed, you know.”

With just those two sentences, Xu Yuan nearly fainted from rage—she’d adored Fu Yanyan since childhood. But his temperament was always cold and restrained. No matter what she tried, she’d never made any progress with him.

“You little vixen! How dare you steal the man I love!”

The two tangled together, hurling insults for a full ten minutes—every sentence invoking Fu Yanyan’s name.

Zhong Huayan held the upper hand, fighting fiercely, so focused she didn’t even notice the new scratches on her face. Xu Yuan hadn’t expected this woman to change so completely—her strength was uncanny, every punch landing squarely on Xu Yuan’s most vulnerable spot: her stomach.

The pain brought tears to Xu Yuan’s eyes, and she nearly vomited up her dinner.

“Xu Chu Yin, hold her hands for me!” Zhong Huayan, trembling, fished a knife from her bag. In an instant, a flash of cold steel lit up the air!

Xu Chu Yin yanked Xu Yuan upright at once. “Sis, she’s got a knife! I’ve already notified Brother Yaochuan—don’t act rashly. She’s not getting away tonight.”

Zhong Huayan eyed Xu Chu Yin’s delicate face, and the Vacheron Constantin watch on his wrist.

“Kid, you’re still wearing a fake watch?”

Xu Chu Yin burned with anger—if there was anything he refused to be accused of, it was fake shoes or watches. “Impossible! Watch your mouth. My Vacheron Constantin was brought back from overseas by my brother!”

“No wonder. Of all people to imitate, you pick Xu Yaochuan and try to act all high and mighty. Your precious Vacheron Constantin—its screw-down case back is actually a snap-on, and you can’t even tell? Go get it appraised. Your wonderful brother is a fraud.”

Xu Chu Yin hesitated. Could she be telling the truth? Was he really wearing a fake watch?

The standoff dragged on until suddenly, the dormitory building was flooded with bright light.

Several black Rolls-Royces tore through the night, roaring into the school grounds and screeching to a halt outside the dormitory. From the cars emerged several bodyguards, dark-skinned, tattooed, all in suits. They looked up, quickly spotting that something was amiss on the fourth floor.

A few words from the person in the back seat, and they began forcing the door without hesitation. The whole operation was swift, fluid, seamless.

“This… this isn’t Brother Yaochuan’s car,” Xu Yuan muttered in disbelief. She hadn’t waited for Xu Yaochuan, but somehow, Fu Yanyan had come?

She crept to the window, peering down. When she caught sight of the Rolls-Royces—bearing license plates from Hong Kong, Macau, and Beijing, with the Beijing plate all zeros—she froze in dread.

She admired Fu Yanyan, but she also feared him deeply.

Xu Yuan and Xu Chu Yin bolted, slipping out the back door in their panic.

Zhong Huayan’s school uniform was filthy by now. She guessed it was probably Fu Yanyan’s assistant who’d come. As she reached the ground floor, the glare of headlights and a ring of bodyguards closed in around her.

What a spectacle.

Zhong Huayan dug out a cigarette from her handbag, but after fumbling for a while, she couldn’t find her lighter.

The rear window of the Rolls-Royce rolled down. A large, well-defined hand, adorned with a string of dzi beads, played with a kerosene lighter—flick, flick, click! A flame blossomed.

At first, Zhong Huayan didn’t recognize him—only noticing the fierce, jagged scar on his wrist. But as he approached and she saw the cold, handsome face inside the car, she knew.

“I thought you wouldn’t come,” she said, lighting her cigarette with the offered flame and taking a deep drag. Fighting was exhausting; after these past two days, her hands were swollen and red.

“Get in the car.”

As soon as Zhong Huayan closed the door, she caught the warm scent of sandalwood and alcohol on the man beside her. He was dressed in a crisp white shirt, gold-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, reclining in the back seat. His shirt, unbuttoned at the collar in agitation, revealed a clear glimpse of his collarbone.

His phone vibrated. He answered, and on the other end came Xu Yaochuan’s mocking voice. “President Fu, it’s just not your year—it’s been one accident after another for me tonight. Can’t we be civil about Li Yanyan’s situation…”

Before Xu Yaochuan could finish, Fu Yanyan cut him off, “She belongs to me now. I’m not so free that I can keep coming to her rescue every day.”

“Oh, I see… If President Fu had said so sooner, the Xu family knows its manners. I’ll make sure those two kids learn the rules.”

Fu Yanyan ended the call, his gaze turning gloomy as he stared out at the city. Rain began pattering against the glass.

“How did you get the number for my phone card?”

She stubbed out her cigarette in the box, lying without hesitation, not even blinking.

“Xu Yuan told me. She likes you. I suppose her brother tells her everything about you.”

He fell silent, a brooding stillness settling over him.

Before her death, Zhong Huayan had never seen her younger brother look so lost and sorrowful…

There were faint tear tracks at the corner of his eyes.

Suddenly, memories flickered—Zhong Huayan, her hair loose, eyes smoldering with unconscious allure, swung herself onto the man’s lap without thinking.

She gently removed his glasses, just as she had when they were children, and caressed the corner of his eye.

“Don’t cry again. Ever.”

The assistant in the front seat was stunned. When did things progress this quickly between them?

The woman’s hair spilled in wild disarray over her waist. Her face was gentle as water, yet unconsciously seductive, her manner both reckless and uninhibited, her figure sinuous as a serpent.

The man was cold as a snowy mountain, the tendons and bones of his wrists standing out with a subtle strength.

In his eyes—clouded with melancholy and repression—a deep, forbidden desire surged, tinged with a fallen humanity.

Suddenly overcome with yearning, he cupped her face, his gaze inching over her features, greedy and murmuring.

“Just a few more years… If you don’t come to see me, I’ll come to you. All right?”

What?

Was he drunk?

His voice was so low she couldn’t make out his words.

“Ah Hua, I miss you so much…”

Fu Yanyan’s gaze finally lingered on the beauty mark at the corner of her eye. Instantly, his expression turned cold.

Then, as he brushed her hair aside, he noticed the fresh cuts from the fight on her face.

“Get down.”

She looked at him, puzzled.

It was as if he had suddenly sobered; all tenderness faded, leaving only the hollow, silent abyss in his eyes.

“I’ll say it one last time. Get down.”

Zhong Huayan, unable to react at once, slid from his lap to the seat beside him.

Fu Yanyan shot her a frigid, murderous glance—the kind of chill that cut straight to the bone.

“Don’t cross the line. The only reason I’m watching over you is so that face of yours remains unscathed.”