Zhou Xizhi lifted his eyelids and swept a glance at her, then reached out to grab her hand and wiped it clean with a tissue, finger by finger. He hated that she carried traces of others on her body.
The man turned his face slightly, earnest and patient, cold and captivating.
Seeing this, Yan Yi’an suddenly remembered that he had once been this gentle with her before.
Zhou Xizhi was satisfied. He raised his head slightly and collided directly with the woman’s fervent, deep gaze. His heart inexplicably jolted—she used to look at him with those very same eyes.
In the dark of night.
Zhou Xizhi’s face kept drawing closer. Her lips were right before him, his breath so hot, yet his tone remained just as cold. “Take off your clothes. Throw them away.”
Zhou Xizhi half-pressed against Yan Yi’an, commanding at her ear, “Throw the clothes away. They disgust me.”
Yan Yi’an’s burning heart instantly cooled, and she felt utterly humiliated.
He found her dirty, so he let her appear naked before other men—and the driver and Wen Xiao were still in the front seat.
Yan Yi’an clutched the hem of her clothes, looking stubborn and unwilling to yield.
The driver timely raised the partition, instantly sealing off the space between the two. The man’s cold voice came again at her ear, “Do I do it, or do you do it yourself?”
“Zhou Xizhi, I’m willing to atone—not because I’m guilty, but because I don’t want to drag others down. But you can’t humiliate me endlessly.”
Yan Yi’an had her own pride and stubbornness.
“Rip…”
In the quiet, sealed space came the sound of fabric tearing—clean, decisive, merciless.
“So you prefer that I do it myself.”
Zhou Xizhi refused to let her off with his words either. “Don’t tell me you actually think I’m still interested in your body? Let me tell you, it only makes me sick.”
A tremor ran through Yan Yi’an’s body as she watched Zhou Xizhi toss the shredded clothes out of the car.
They flashed past her line of sight. Several bloody scratches had appeared on the back of Zhou Xizhi’s hand—Yan Yi’an’s handiwork left behind during their tussle.
A wild cat not yet tamed. No matter—he had the patience to sever her claws one by one…
Inside the car, a well-dressed young nobleman and a woman who was nearly naked and curled into a ball, with an unbridgeable chasm between them.
As the sky was turning gray with dawn, the motorcade finally returned to Fangcheng. Yan Yi’an hadn’t slept all night, and both her eyes were sore and aching.
She was cold and exhausted, but her body couldn’t fall asleep.
Only when the car came to a stop did Yan Yi’an recognize the place—Deep Water Bay, Zhou Xizhi’s residence.
The man beside her had also stayed awake all night. The moment the car stopped, his long legs had already stepped out. A sobbing voice came from behind him, “Clothes… give me clothes.”
When Yan Yi’an spoke, she realized her voice was a little hoarse. Zhou Xizhi’s body didn’t pause for even a moment. His tone was icy: “Don’t you already have clothes on?”
He wanted her to walk back to the villa in just her underwear, naked?
Was this his first step in humiliating her?
Yan Yi’an couldn’t believe what she was hearing. More than a dozen bodyguards were standing outside. He wanted her to bare herself in front of everyone…
Yan Yi’an’s heart clenched with pain.
Having not slept all night, Zhou Xizhi’s brows were taut as he strode quickly toward the villa. But then he heard a “click” behind him—the sound of the woman getting out of the car. Wen Xiao beside him quickly lowered his head.
Zhou Xizhi seemed to think of something. A flicker of disbelief and fury passed through his eyes. His jaw tightened as he turned his face back, his gaze fixed intently on the woman stepping down naked, his eyes murderous with towering rage…
He wanted to humiliate her—so Yan Yi’an would let him.
The woman walked barefoot through the gray mist, step by step, toward the villa.
Yan Yi’an was extremely fair—milky white skin with a pink undertone—her chestnut-brown hair falling loose over her shoulders, making her look like a primordial spirit emerging from the fog. Even as she passed in front of Zhou Xizhi, she kept her gaze straight ahead, her face a mixture of stubbornness and forbearance.
Zhou Xizhi’s brow wasn’t the only thing aching—his temples throbbed as well. When had this woman ever been this obedient? Or was she simply throwing all shame to the wind?
Wen Xiao wished he could bury his head in his chest, yet he still felt a chill radiating from above.
“So this is how you seduce men?”
“I was merely following Mr. Zhou’s orders.”
An inexplicable fury surged straight to Zhou Xizhi’s head. He glanced at the bodyguards, who had all already lowered their heads.
Suddenly, he grabbed Yan Yi’an by the wrist, wrapped his suit jacket around her, and scooped her up, carrying her into the villa. Only when they were inside with no other figures in sight did Zhou Xizhi unceremoniously dump her onto the floor.
“Don’t try to seduce anyone around me.”
“First floor, servants’ quarters—that’s yours from now on. You’ll do the servants’ work. Don’t play any of your tricks.”
Zhou Xizhi coldly tossed out the words, then stepped over her and walked straight up the stairs.
Yan Yi’an’s knees and elbows were scraped raw from the fall. Bracing herself, she made her way to the housekeeper’s room and grabbed whatever clothes she could find to put on.
The house at Deep Water Bay was not unfamiliar to her. Over the past two years, the few moments of rest she’d had were all spent here with Zhou Xizhi.
Daylight crept back in, and the sound of a car horn rang out beyond the villa.
In her groggy haze, Yan Yi’an heard women’s voices outside. She didn’t want to move, but the chatter and the clack of leather shoes pounded against her head. Remembering Zhou Xizhi’s words, she gritted her teeth, pushed herself out of bed, and opened the door.
Two women stood in the first-floor hall. Hearing the door, they instinctively turned to look. But when they made out Yan Yi’an’s features, one of them—a woman dressed like a wealthy matron—went pale in an instant. She looked so much like…
But that person had died long ago.
A beautiful woman in a Chanel skirt with immaculate, refined makeup wore an expression twisted with jealousy and hatred. She strode straight toward Yan Yi’an on glittering silver high heels.
Yan Yi’an only felt a fierce gust of wind bearing down on her. Before she could react, a vicious palm swept across her cheek.
A sharp crack echoed through the empty hall.
“Yan Yi’an, you bitch—what are you doing here?”
“She’s the one who sent your sister to prison?”
The matron gritted her teeth, glaring at her with venomous hatred, staring in disbelief at the servant-dressed woman before her.
They were Zhao Ruoruo’s mother and younger sister—Liu Mei and Zhao Jinjin.
Though Yan Yi’an didn’t know them, their words revealed their identities. A faint smile tugged at the corner of her lips—a bitter one. So that was why she’d been slapped.
She really was a villain hated by gods and men alike.
But Yan Yi’an’s faint smile looked to the two women like blatant provocation.
Zhao Jinjin’s eyes blazed wide with jealousy and hatred.
Even dressed in plain servant’s clothes, bare-faced and sickly-looking, Yan Yi’an’s face upon closer inspection was still exquisitely delicate—the very picture of a seductress.
Yan Yi’an might grovel like an ant before Zhou Xizhi, but that didn’t mean everyone could bully her. Deep in her bones, she was unyielding and proud.
She raised her hand and delivered a vicious slap across Zhao Jinjin’s delicate face.
Her palm was slightly numb, and Yan Yi’an’s eyes were filled with coldness as she stared at the two of them. Her tone was icy. “Zhao Ruoruo going to prison was her own doing, not something I caused.”
Zhao Jinjin was stunned for a moment.
Liu Mei’s anger flared up instantly. She hadn’t expected that the delicate-looking girl before her, who seemed weak and easy to bully, would have such a fiery temperament.
She had ruined her eldest daughter, and now she was hitting her second daughter?
Tossing aside her LV bag, Liu Mei grabbed Yan Yi’an by the hair and shoved her to the ground, acting like a complete shrew.
Zhao Jinjin, seizing the opportunity, clawed at Yan Yi’an’s face. Her freshly done nails raked across the pale skin, streaks of blood staining the gaps between her fingers red.
“What are you doing?”