Chapter 64: Deserved Retribution

That year, as dusk fell over the capital, snow blanketed the cypress and pine, brushing just above her ankles. She showed none of the airs of a young lady, smoking as though the heat of her cigarette could chase away the cold, brazen and unapologetic, indifferent to the occasional whispers around her.

The gray sky set off her long hair; her knees, reddened by the cold, were exposed. She spoke with commanding boldness, then led him before her.

By then, she was just past twenty, already capable of standing on her own. He, on the other hand, was merely a shadow, a stand-in destined to be discarded at any moment. Yet the streetlights glowed warm that winter night, just like her hand. For an instant, as they stood so close, he felt the distance between them collapse—her neck adorned with gemstones, dazzling and unattainable.

She loved chocolate and had, without remorse, brought about the death of the real young master of the Fang family. But he, longing for just a bite of cake, was harshly rebuked.

From afar, he watched her proud, unyielding face.

She passed through hardship, embraced the fullness of spring; she was the brilliance of her family, casting light even in the coldest winter, bringing hope to countless people.

To him, she was a winter jewel—glimmering before his eyes, forever out of reach.

That was the chasm between them.

But he refused to accept it. Little did he know that his stubborn unwillingness would propel him to reverse his fate and achieve all he had today.

Zhong Huayan stepped out of the school. Assistant Li stood waiting outside, still in his coat, holding the back door open for her.

“How many years will Xu Yuan get?”

“That’s for you to decide,” he replied, his voice low and certain. He held in his hand a bouquet of Juliet blush roses, brushing them against her ear, twining himself around her like a vine. “Congratulations on your successful performance.”

He was the coldest of them all, yet it was he who drew her into the depths of desire.

Zhong Huayan could no longer distinguish whether such a man was an immortal or a demon. His fingers, still scented with roses, caressed her earlobe and waist, mingling unrestrained desire with fragrance.

“Fu Yanyan, perhaps I’ve already guessed your thoughts.”

“Oh? If you want to know my thoughts, Ah Hua, why not ask directly? I’ll tell you everything, hold nothing back.”

“Do as you wish. You know your boundaries, don’t you?”

In one swift motion, Fu Yanyan pulled her onto his lap, his cold hands wandering at her waist.

He felt as though his entire life would be lost to her.

His fingers gripped her twisting waist, and before she could question him, he spoke first, “Ah Hua, I’m so jealous. I don’t want you to dance for them—you should only dance for me…”

“Enough, Fu Yanyan, don’t be so indecent. Dance isn’t seduction; it’s art.”

“But it seduced me, didn’t it?”

“That’s your problem.”

Fu Yanyan liked to look up at her, just as he did now, lounging lazily in the seat. His broad frame was relaxed, but his gaze followed her every movement.

“If you won’t ask questions, Ah Hua, then I will. Why were you so late just now?”

“Then why did you agree to come see my performance, only to be late yourself?”

Fu Yanyan suddenly grew tongue-tied, his eloquence deserting him in her presence.

“I have no desire to argue about this. Late is late. Does it matter so much?”

Since she was a child, she had always been proud and commanding, always coming out on top—objective, rational, a beautiful, noble, and compassionate elder sister.

He dared not speak further, knowing he would surely face her wrath.

Night fell.

The last time Zhong Huayan saw Xu Yuan was the second day after Xu Yuan entered the detention center.

Xu Yuan no longer had her usual spirit or arrogance. She wore a shabby sweater, her hair disheveled, her shoes dirty. Her eyes were red and swollen, but her fingers and features remained oddly out of place amid the squalor around her.

She sat slumped in a chair, visible through the glass partition. Her features seemed to wither before one’s eyes. She didn’t even notice the stain at the corner of her mouth. The old telephone lay beside her. Looking up at the woman who had come, she suddenly smiled.

It was a smile of utter desolation, as though all the splendors of the world had faded, leaving only devastation.

“I never thought the first to visit me would be you.”

Her voice was dry, rasping, then suddenly she glared, eyes wide, “You’re here to mock me! You came just to laugh at me!”

It was only the detention center for now; she would need a formal arrest warrant before sentencing.

But at this moment, Xu Yuan already knew—her family had abandoned her. They would see to it that she spent the rest of her life behind bars. Arrest warrant or no, her fate was sealed.

“I didn’t come to laugh at you, Xu Yuan. How many lives have you destroyed? Can you even count?”

Zhong Huayan’s voice was calm—calmer than ever. She watched everything with a detached gaze, the only way to keep pain at bay.

“The world is a jungle. Who is born wicked? Was I not innocent once? From birth, I was told it’s survival of the fittest. Now I end up like this, and all of you judge me! What right do you have? Today, you only enjoy your glory and wealth because you managed to attach yourself to Fu Yanyan. How kind are you, really?”

Xu Yuan’s laughter was bleak and hoarse, like a cold wind sweeping across barren earth. She laughed until her eyes turned red, until tears hung from the corners of her eyes, her lips trembling as she spoke.

“I never hated you in my life. I hate those who once swore to protect me, only to push me into the abyss—my father, my brothers. They always said they loved me, but in the end, they delivered the fatal blow! They could have told me the truth instead of deceiving me. They spoiled me, used me, then cast me aside! If they’d never given me the warmth of family, perhaps I wouldn’t feel this pain.”

Zhong Huayan reached into her bag and took out a stack of documents and several letters.

She passed them through the glass, “Take a look. These are letters from the families of the girls you hurt. Do you dare read them?”

Xu Yuan picked up the documents: they were her criminal records, the reports filed against her for illegal assaults in years past.

Most ended with the victims dropping out of school, left disabled, or even dead by suicide.

If the heavens seek to destroy someone, they first let them run rampant. The Xu family’s downfall was inevitable. In these times, where caution was the rule, being too conspicuous meant becoming a target.

Zhong Huayan’s voice rang out, sharp and unyielding.

“Their families, even the police, were silenced by your family’s lawyers—paying hush money, manipulating public opinion, threatening witnesses. Some waited seven years for justice.

Your father kept all the evidence at home. Instead of destroying it, yesterday he handed it all to the police. The lawyer who once protected you, those who threatened witnesses abroad, have all been arrested.

Xu Yuan, a person is meant to distinguish right from wrong. Your education was not for nothing. You reveled in the control that wealth gave you, never thinking that one day it would turn against you.

Did you not know it was wrong? No, you knew, but you did it anyway. Your brother once told me you had bipolar disorder, that you once stabbed a housekeeper, but you never harmed your own family. That proves you were not oblivious! You were an accomplice, willfully committing evil, justifying yourself with absurd theories, doing as you pleased!”