The face-reading master once predicted Li Chuxia’s fate:
“You have a ‘Peach Blossom Face,’ a destiny to become rich and powerful through men. Unlike ordinary women who seduce men with schemes—men can see through those tricks and know they’re only after money, so they won’t give their hearts—no one can see through you. Someone with a Peach Blossom Face can draw people in with just their gaze, a smile, their demeanor, even the scent they carry. No one can break your spell.”
After hearing this, Chuxia insured her face.
Because this face really was her greatest asset.
Now she stood by the window. Sunlight poured over her smooth, long hair, giving her an almost ethereal glow.
Her eyelashes fluttered like butterfly wings, her lowered gaze giving off an innocent purity untouched by the world.
“I’m pregnant…”
The man in front of her froze for a moment, then anxiously held her shoulders.
“Xia Xia, you’re not joking, right?”
Her voice was soft and gentle, always carrying a hint of innocence and timidity, making it impossible not to want to protect her.
“Don’t you want me to keep this child?”
“No… it’s just a bit sudden,” he stammered, briefly flustered, then hugged her to calm her down. “Give me some time—I’ll convince my family.”
If only that were so easy.
Even though she thought so privately, her eyes were full of trust as she softly said: “I believe in you.”
Everyone thought Li Chuxia was a naive, indecisive canary, dependent on men. No one knew that beneath her delicate, petite frame lay a heart as calm and decisive as a hunter’s.
In the end, Chuxia even wrung another sum of money from the man under the pretense of buying skincare products before leaving gracefully.
At home, she removed her makeup and admired herself in the mirror, satisfied with the skin she maintained with five-figure monthly skincare.
To maintain her slender yet curvy figure, she avoided heavy anaerobic training entirely, opting instead for Pilates to sculpt muscles, aerial yoga for flexibility, and a strict diet of konjac noodles, salads, and high-quality protein—her discipline bordering on obsession.
Her hair remained untouched by dye or heat; naturally black and straight down to her waist, she usually wore it as-is, sometimes using wigs or styling for different occasions. Most of the time, she appeared with a subtle no-makeup look and her silk-like hair, giving off a fresh, innocent impression.
Many grueling skincare routines were treated as seriously as work. After all, she maintained a high-quality lifestyle by associating with wealthy, influential men, like a morning glory vine clinging to their support.
But in reality, she was a tomboy who loved racing and extreme sports, disliked dressing up, and whose greatest dream was simply having money without needing a job.
Everything had been going well. In three years, she had four boyfriends, acquired a villa, two sports cars, and a pile of luxury goods.
But now Chuxia faced a problem: she was genuinely pregnant—and didn’t know who the father was.
She had blacked out that night, only remembering that she had seen four men in succession.
Her fingers swiped casually across her phone screen, stopping on a contact saved as “#3.”
After two seconds of thought, she dialed the number. After more than ten rings, someone finally answered.
“Hello?” came a low, magnetic voice, icy in tone.
“It’s me.”
After a few seconds of silence, the voice sneered coldly: “How are you still alive?”
Chuxia ignored his harsh tone. But he continued, teeth gritted in rage: “Li Chuxia, how dare you call me?”
The venom in his voice reminded her of why she had fallen out with Sheng Jingshi.
The concept of top-tier wealth in Jing City came from the Sheng family.
Sheng Jingshi was born with a silver spoon, accustomed to having whatever he wanted, rarely opposed. When Chuxia dated him, she constantly had to endure his arrogance and controlling nature.
She felt like his most expensive possession; he didn’t want her to have brains or opinions—only to obey and provide emotional value.
After she broke up with him, Sheng Jingshi ignored her, secretly following her for two months. When he saw photos of her with other men, he flew into a rage, dragged her into a car chase, and threatened to die with her.
In reality, Chuxia hadn’t been cheating or lining up a replacement—she just couldn’t stand his possessiveness anymore.
She thought it was his first breakup experience, and he had held a grudge ever since.
That night, he seemed to come looking for her to argue, and somehow the argument ended up on the bed.
Chuxia pressed her temple, trying to recall what he had asked her.
On the phone, Sheng Jingshi’s impatient voice interrupted her thoughts:
“Speak. Are you mute?”
Chuxia said: “I have something to tell you. Can you come over?”
“So you’re that cheap, that you can summon me and dismiss me at will? Do you think this is a hotel?”
“…”
“Answer me!”
Chuxia paused two seconds, then whispered hoarsely: “I’m listening.”
“…”
The line on the other end of the phone was silent for a few moments. Just as Chuxia thought Sheng Jingshi would continue scolding her, she heard a long exhale.
A few seconds later, he finally spoke: “What’s wrong with your throat?”
She had only been a little dry-throated and hadn’t even noticed her voice had changed.
Chuxia ignored it and got straight to the point: “If you don’t want to come over, I’ll just tell you over the phone. That night a month ago… nothing happened between us, right?”
She needed to use a process of elimination to figure out who the father was.
After she finished speaking, she heard Sheng Jingshi’s heavy breathing on the other end.
After a long silence that felt like dozens of seconds, he finally, restraining his anger, asked: “You only remembered this now? Are you a koala or have your reflexes been poisoned from eating salad all year?”
Chuxia rolled her eyes and, feigning grievance, said: “Fine, if you don’t want to talk to me, forget it.” Then she hung up the phone.
Why did a perfectly fine guy always have to open his mouth?
Half an hour later, Sheng Jingshi’s car appeared under Chuxia’s building.
By the time she opened the door, she had changed into a fitted dress, her porcelain face touched with a hint of blush, looking even more radiant.
A small head peeked out from behind the door and glanced at the tall, imposing man standing at the entrance with a cold expression.
“Weren’t you not coming?”
“I’m just that shameless, happy now?”
Sheng Jingshi entered without a word, taking off his shoes with practiced ease.
Chuxia didn’t notice his lips twitch slightly when he saw his slippers still in the shoe rack.
He strode directly to the sofa and sat down, long legs casually spread, pulling out a cigarette and biting it without lighting it, eyes narrowing as he appraised her.
“You’ve been living well?”
Chuxia nodded.
Sheng Jingshi sneered, staring at her with hatred: “If you’ve been living well, why call me?”
Chuxia hesitated to tell him she was pregnant. From her understanding of him, if the child was his, he would likely send her abroad to give birth. Considering the Sheng family’s uncompromising nature, leaving mother and child behind was also a real possibility.
If the child wasn’t his, he would definitely insult her, mocking her as cheap and worthless.
So she lowered her gaze to her toes, making up a flimsy excuse in a soft voice: “I… saw Li the flower cat in the community and thought of you.”
The flower cat was a stray in the neighborhood. Chuxia was allergic but liked to feed it. When Sheng Jingshi found out, he arranged for someone to feed it for her on a schedule, even naming it—Li Hua Mao.
Sheng Jingshi sat on the sofa, staring at her. His eyes flickered in the dim light, a fissure breaking through his otherwise cold expression. Something indescribable—anger or heartache—tightened in his stomach.
After a long silence, he finally spoke: “How much do you want?”
“What?”
“How much money.”
She saw his deep eyes like sharp knives, seeming to pierce through her. A faint self-mockery curled at the corner of his lips, his low voice carrying a subtle bitterness:
“You don’t miss me… you’re just short on cash.”