Deafening music filled the private room.
Yan Hang sat alone at the microphone, expressionless, queuing one song after another.
Ji Ying glanced at the titles:
“A Man’s Tears”
“Life Is But a Dream”
“Self-Indulgent Love”
“I’m Really Hurt”
“Is he okay?” Ji Ying tugged lightly at Fu Jingshen’s sleeve, whispering:
“Maybe we shouldn’t have tricked him in the first place?”
Fu Jingshen cast a glance toward Yan Hang, idly playing with her fingers.
“Don’t mind him. He’ll calm down on his own soon enough.”
Ji Ying blinked, looking again at Yan Hang. The carefree young master she remembered now looked as dark as charred wood struck by lightning.
Didn’t seem all that fine.
But she had no time to dwell on it. Xu Zhou and Jiang Sheng had already called over several women, beckoning: “Third Brother, bring your sister-in-law over to play cards!”
Fu Jingshen lowered his head to ask Ji Ying: “Want to play?”
Ji Ying looked toward the doorway, where a group of beauties—some glamorous, some innocent—were gathered. She had never seen such a scene before. Her lips parted in surprise, and she murmured: “But I don’t know how to play cards.”
Fu Jingshen frowned slightly at the women Xu Zhou had summoned. He took Ji Ying’s hand and led her over. “I’ll teach you.”
Ji Ying followed him to the card table, raising her eyes—and froze again.
Beside Xu Zhou and Jiang Sheng, two women each clung close. Even Yan Hang had a woman smiling as she picked songs for him. Only Fu Jingshen had none. It seemed the women had reached some unspoken agreement: they all kept their distance from Fu Jingshen, respectful yet detached.
As Ji Ying was thinking this, across the table, one of the women lit a cigarette for Xu Zhou with practiced ease.
Fu Jingshen looked over, his tone cool: “Xu Zhou, put it out.”
Xu Zhou glanced at Ji Ying, instantly realizing, and hurriedly stubbed the cigarette into the trash. “Sorry—habit.”
Ji Ying smiled, shaking her head. “It’s fine.”
The game began.
Except for Yan Hang, still at the microphone singing heartbreak ballads, everyone else gathered eagerly around the table.
Jiang Sheng dealt the chips with practiced hands. “Since sister-in-law’s here, let’s play something new.” He jingled the chips, grinning. “Sichuan mahjong or Guangdong mahjong?”
Ji Ying’s amber eyes widened slightly. She didn’t know either of them.
“Whatever. Let’s start,” Fu Jingshen said.
Fu Jingshen leaned down to sit behind her. As he spoke, Ji Ying could even feel the vibration of his chest. She sat upright, not daring to move.
Just as the game was about to begin, Ji Ying tried once more to remind him, tugging at his sleeve: “Third Brother, I really don’t know how to play.”
Fu Jingshen sat sideways, reaching out to draw the tiles for her. Ji Ying was caught off guard—suddenly pulled into his embrace from behind. She heard his low voice: “Just play. Any losses are mine.”
Their whispered exchange carried to Jiang Sheng and Xu Zhou on either side. Both men were stunned, exchanging incredulous looks.
Was this tender man, holding a beauty in his arms, really their cold-hearted, ice-blooded Third Brother? How long had it been—already the iceberg was melting?
Ji Ying’s movements were clumsy, even her way of drawing tiles unfamiliar. When her turn came, her reactions were often a beat too slow.
Normally, Jiang Sheng and Xu Zhou would have lost patience long ago. But each time they looked up, they met Ji Ying’s clear, luminous eyes under the cool light. In that moment, they finally understood why Third Brother had fallen.
Ji Ying’s beauty wasn’t only in her appearance—it was in the innocence and serenity of a girl raised with care and tenderness. Who could bear to speak harshly to her? Under the light, the more they looked, the more entranced they became, almost forgetting the game entirely.
Both men sighed inwardly again: Fu Jingshen was blessed.
At first, Ji Ying couldn’t play at all, relying entirely on Fu Jingshen’s guidance from behind. He seemed to enjoy speaking close to her ear, his warmth and breath enveloping her. Ji Ying’s heartbeat stumbled, her fingertips damp with a thin sheen of sweat as she held the tiles.
Fu Jingshen was skilled. Within just a few rounds, Ji Ying had a tall stack of chips before her. She pressed her lips together, smiling with delight.
“Do you know how to play now?” Fu Jingshen asked with a soft laugh.
Ji Ying thought for a few seconds, then answered cautiously: “I think I do.”
“Then you’ll play on your own?”
Ji Ying’s expression turned serious, as if tackling a great challenge. She nodded firmly: “I’ll do my best.”
Fu Jingshen stood, unable to hide his amusement, and rubbed the back of her head. “I’ll go sit with Yan Hang on the sofa. Call me if you need anything.”
Ji Ying focused on the card game, no longer sparing him much attention, answering him only perfunctorily.
Meanwhile, Yan Hang, on the sofa, had finally tired of singing. The stream of sorrowful love songs that had filled the room abruptly ceased. He sat alone, clutching a bottle of liquor, when Fu Jingshen strode toward him with long steps.
Still sulking, Yan Hang lazily shut his eyes, unwilling to acknowledge him.
Fu Jingshen ordered red wine to be opened, pouring a glass for himself and one for Yan Hang.
“Come drink with me,” Fu Jingshen said.
Yan Hang raised his arm to cover his face, muttering: “Not drinking.”
“Then listen.”
“The teahouse that day—it was the first time in years I’d seen Yinghua.” Fu Jingshen set the glass before him, his voice low. “After that, I grew selfish.”
At this, Yan Hang dropped his arm, snapping angrily: “Then why didn’t you tell me sooner? Instead, you and Ji Ying tricked me, made me into a laughingstock.”
Fu Jingshen was silent for a few seconds. His long, defined fingers lifted the wine glass; his Adam’s apple moved as he drained it in one go. Meeting Yan Hang’s gaze, he said calmly: “In this matter, I acted deliberately.”
Hearing that, Yan Hang gave a bitter laugh, raising his voice: “Third Brother, I really want to call you a despicable man.”
Fu Jingshen smiled faintly. “I’ll accept that. But while other things might be negotiable—she is not.” His eyes were sharp, unwavering.
Yan Hang knew Fu Jingshen’s methods well. This was meant to teach him a lesson, to cut off his hopes forever. Fu Jingshen’s possessiveness over what he claimed as his own was absolute.
Yan Hang lifted his glass too, downing it in one gulp. The burn hit hard, making him cough and his face flush red. He squinted at the wine. This was no low-alcohol beer—it scorched down his throat, searing all the way to his stomach. At last, he glanced toward the card table.
Under the lights, the girl seemed to have drawn a tile she liked. Her lips curved in a quiet smile, her eyes shimmering with delight. Every expression was as beautiful as a painting—just like the first time he had seen her.
“Forget it,” Yan Hang said with a laugh. “I tricked you once before too. Let’s call it even. I declare this matter closed. We’re still brothers.”
Fu Jingshen nodded, tapping his glass with his fingertip. “Another?”
Yan Hang: “Drink! I’ll see if I can drink you under the table.”
Fu Jingshen poured for him. “Then I’ll risk my life to accompany a gentleman.”
For some reason, ever since Fu Jingshen left, Ji Ying’s luck at the card table took a sharp downturn. She lost several rounds in a row, and the tall stack of chips in front of her quietly vanished.
Handing over her last chip to Jiang Sheng with a pained expression, Ji Ying drooped like a frostbitten eggplant, her head hanging low. Jiang Sheng found it both funny and pitiful, almost embarrassed to take her chip.
Xu Zhou leaned on his hand, laughing, and called toward Fu Jingshen’s direction: “Third Brother, sister-in-law’s lost everything—aren’t you going to come pay up?”
The women companions covered their mouths, giggling. Ji Ying withdrew into herself, her pale fingers twisting together.
On the sofa, Yan Hang’s cheeks were flushed red; drunk, he clutched a bottle and lay half-conscious. Fu Jingshen pulled him down to lie properly, then strode toward the card table.
As he approached, Ji Ying saw only the deepening darkness in his eyes, unable to tell how much he had drunk. A crisp scent of wine enveloped her from behind, stronger than cold fir, filling her senses. Her breath faltered—because Fu Jingshen’s defined hand had wrapped around her waist from behind. She forced herself to stay still, trying to appear calm, though her heartbeat was utterly chaotic.
His breathing was heavier, but his words remained clear. His voice carried a smile: “How did you lose it all?”
Ji Ying bit her lip, a little defiant. “It was just bad luck.”
Fu Jingshen’s lips curved, indulging her completely. “Mm, of course—just bad luck.”
Jiang Sheng and Xu Zhou twitched at the corners of their mouths.
Fu Jingshen asked: “How much did she lose?”
Jiang Sheng shook the pile of chips proudly in front of him. “See for yourself.”
“Keep going,” Fu Jingshen said coolly. “Put all her losses on my tab.”
Another round began.
Ji Ying’s little face tightened, her focus locked on the tiles before her. Round after round, the worse she played, the more she enjoyed it. In the end, she was the only one losing completely.
Xu Zhou, Jiang Sheng, and even the women they had brought along had chips piled so high they nearly overflowed.
“Let me count this up,” Jiang Sheng said with a grin, tallying the chips. He clicked his tongue twice. “Third Brother, all of this goes on your account.”
Ji Ying looked at the mountain of chips, her lips parted, then turned in confusion toward Fu Jingshen.
Xu Zhou toyed with his lighter, his amusement nearly spilling over. “Third Brother, everything you won from us this year—sister-in-law’s just given it all back.”
Ji Ying was so guilty she could hardly lift her head.
The alcohol’s aftereffects surged; Fu Jingshen’s eyes already carried a faint haze of intoxication. He couldn’t be bothered with the others; he only lowered his head to ask Ji Ying: “Still want to play?”
Ji Ying shook her head firmly. “No more.”
“Don’t you want to win it back?”
“But I can’t win it back.” Ji Ying’s long lashes lowered, her tone filled with puzzled frustration. Why was she always the one losing?
Fu Jingshen embraced her from behind, his voice soft: “If I help you win it back, wouldn’t that be good?”
Ji Ying suddenly covered her lips, stifling a yawn. Her eyes shimmered faintly with drowsiness. “Third Brother, what time is it?”
Fu Jingshen glanced at his watch. “Ten o’clock.”
“Ah.” Ji Ying was startled. “It’s already that late? I need to go home and sleep.”
As soon as she said it, laughter rippled around them.
The men at the table were used to nightlife. Hearing someone say “go home to sleep at ten” amused them greatly. Xu Zhou laughed so hard he nearly doubled over.
Fu Jingshen lifted his eyelids, sweeping them with a single glance. Instantly, the room fell silent. He took Ji Ying’s hand and stood. “I’ll take you home.”
Ji Ying nodded.
Fu Jingshen exchanged brief words with Jiang Sheng and Xu Zhou, then glanced at Yan Hang, who was passed out drunk on the sofa, before turning to leave with Ji Ying.
The private room door closed behind them.
Xu Zhou, who had been suppressing his craving for a cigarette all night, immediately lit one. In the haze of smoke, he recalled Fu Jingshen’s demeanor and shook his head with a sigh. “Our Third Brother… he’s really fallen.”
Jiang Sheng bit his cigarette with a grin. “And fallen hard. If it weren’t to make Yan Hang give up, I doubt he’d even bring her out.”
Both men looked toward the unconscious Yan Hang on the sofa, their eyes tinged with pity.
“Third Brother’s ruthless.”
“Yan Hang—the ultimate tragic fool.”
Ji Ying was led out of the club by Fu Jingshen, then stepped into the back seat of the car.
The enclosed space was heavy with the scent of alcohol.
“Third Brother,” Ji Ying frowned slightly. “How much did you drink?”
Fu Jingshen leaned his elbow against the window. In the night, his features were sharp, his jawline defined, his gaze fixed directly on her.
Under that look, Ji Ying felt a heat rise from deep within.
“Half a jin,” Fu Jingshen estimated casually.
Ji Ying disapproved. “Why drink so much?”
Fu Jingshen lowered his eyes, indifferent. “I’m fine. Only Yan Hang got knocked out.”
At the mention of Yan Hang, Ji Ying felt a pang of guilt. “Maybe next time you could apologize to him for me? I didn’t mean to trick him.”
“That matter is already settled.” A shadow flickered in Fu Jingshen’s eyes as he spoke lightly: “From now on, you and he will have no connection.”
Ji Ying froze, then slowly nodded. “…Oh.”
For a moment, no one spoke. The car continued smoothly along the road.
Then, a phone rang, breaking the silence.
Ji Ying looked up and saw Fu Jingshen pick up his phone. She noticed a fleeting change in his expression when he saw the caller. He answered, his voice calm: “Mom.”
Ji Ying blinked. *His mother?* The legendary matriarch from the Hong Kong elite?
Indeed, the call was from Xie Ling.
Fu Jingshen guessed that the old master had sent word to her, which was how she learned of the arranged marriage.
Xie Ling’s tone was as curt and detached as ever, asking a few formulaic questions about the progress. Fu Jingshen replied briefly to several of them.
The conversation carried a stiff, mechanical air. At last, Fu Jingshen lost patience. “Do you have anything else?”
Xie Ling gave a soft hum. “That Ji family girl—what does she look like? I heard you’re six years apart. She’s still just a young girl, isn’t she? Actually, there are plenty of suitable families here in Hong Kong…”
Fu Jingshen cut her off directly. “If you have nothing else, I’m hanging up.”
Xie Ling said no more, only: “By the end of this year, I may have time to come back.”
“Understood.” With that, Fu Jingshen ended the call.
Ji Ying had been watching him the whole time, and she didn’t miss the shadow that flickered across his brow.
In her impression, Fu Jingshen had never openly shown negative emotions. But just now—perhaps under the influence of alcohol—she sensed a suppressed hostility, deep and turbulent, like the abyss of the sea.
“Third Brother.” Ji Ying leaned closer, tilting her head up. “What’s wrong?”
Fu Jingshen lowered his gaze, his deep eyes fixed on her porcelain-white face, her clear gaze reflecting only him.
An impulse surged—to seize, to hold.
The next second, in Ji Ying’s startled expression, he pulled her easily into his arms. His defined hand pressed firmly against her waist, leaving no room for refusal. In a voice meant only for the two of them, he asked: “Let me hold you. Mm?”