The following day.
The misty vapor over Victoria Harbour hadn’t fully dispersed, leaving the mid-levels air thick not only with the lingering dampness of a departed typhoon but also with a stifling, chaotic heat.
When Shen Yanzhou came downstairs dressed in his business suit, his face looked horribly sour.
Two distinct dark circles hung beneath his eyes, and his silver hair usually styled meticulously without a single stray strand draped somewhat messily across his forehead. His entire being radiated a low, freezing pressure that silently warned anyone from drawing near.
Last night… was a total disaster.
That dog’s endurance was terrifyingly good. The chaotic commotion downstairs had dragged on intermittently well into the latter half of the night before completely subsiding. Though the villa’s soundproofing was premium, those heavy pants compressed deep within his throat seemed to tunnel through the floorboards, invading his eardrums through every available gap.
It left him feeling somewhat…
Shen Yanzhou yanked at his collar with irritation. The moment he reached the staircase landing, a rich, fragrant aroma slammed over his face.
It was the scent of slow-simmered Cantonese congee. Tangerine peel and dried scallops blended with the briny savor of roasted meats, melting into the rice oil under a low, steady flame. It was thick enough to practically hook a person’s tongue out.
“Master, you’re awake?”
Shen Yanzhou lifted his eyelids. The exact instant his focus collided with the man, the nameless fire in his chest burned even hotter.
Compared to his own drained state, this man currently looked… drop-dead radiant.
He was wearing a simple white T-shirt and lounge pants, the fabric stretched tight across his chest muscles. His curly black hair was wet, water droplets trickling down his neck deep into his collar. His entire being leaked a post-release crispness and satiety, his features relaxed, radiating the vibrant, raw lifecycle unique to an S-class male specimen. Like a large predator that had just eaten its fill of meat, casually licking its paws.
“…”
Shen Yanzhou narrowed his eyes, his gaze casting a sinister circle across his frame before finally settling on the living room sofa. It had already been cleared exceptionally cleanly, completely devoid of any mess, as if nothing had ever transpired.
“Where is the item?” he asked coldly.
The hand Thirty Million used to ladle the congee trembled violently, nearly dropping the spoon back into the pot. He naturally knew what Shen Yanzhou was asking about.
—The black silk bathrobe.
The man’s ears turned completely red in an instant, the composure he had just gathered shattering instantly. His gaze dodged as he stammered out an explanation:
“W-Washed…”
“I saw it was too soiled, entirely covered in… so, so I hand-washed it.”
Even after washing it several times, when hanging it out on the balcony to dry, he felt as if he could still smell that residual scent belonging to Shen Yanzhou, along with the traces left behind by his own frantic madness last night.
“Discard it.” Shen Yanzhou didn’t spare it another glance.
The man pressed his lips together, responding in a low voice: “Yes.” Then, he obediently delivered the bowl before him. “Master, the congee I simmered it for two hours. Would you like a bowl?”
Shen Yanzhou lowered his eyes. The congee base was simmered until it was as milky-white as jade, garnished with crisp green scallions and golden, crispy fried wonton skins. On the adjacent dish sat several crystal-clear dried scallops from Tai O. The presentation was flawless.
“No appetite,” he said, fastening his cufflinks while walking straight toward the entryway without breaking his focus. “No time left.”
Because his mental state was poor today, he had pre-arranged for his assistant to drive him back to the company. Plus, with Fu Sihan returning to the country today, he had zero idea how many matters he would have to process.
Yet the exact instant Shen Yanzhou gripped the door handle, he turned his head.
The man stood with his hands at his sides, like a large hound kicked away by its master, his entire being leaking despondency and hurt. Even that messy black hair seemed to drope down along with his mood.
His heart strangely softened a fraction.
Such a piece of trouble.
“Why stand so far away? Bring the bowl over,” he hooked a finger.
Hearing the “whistle,” the man pricked up his ears and jogged over, delivering the congee directly before Shen Yanzhou.
“Master.”
“Feed me a couple of mouthfuls.” He tilted his exquisite jaw up, his silver hair sliding off his shoulder to expose his pale, long neck.
Thirty Million cautiously blew on the spoon at his lips, verifying the temperature wouldn’t scald this precious piece of porcelain, before his trembling hand delivered it to his lips.
Shen Yanzhou took the spoon into his mouth.
The richness of the chicken broth, the savor of the ham, and the clean sweetness of the dried scallops exploded across his tongue instantly. The congee was simmered until completely smooth, sliding down his esophagus almost without requiring chewing.
“Mm… decent.” He narrowed his eyes, the thin pink at the edges of his eyes diffusing within the steam.
Thirty Million hurriedly fed him a second mouthful, his deep black eyes staring deathly at the slight tremor of Shen Yanzhou’s adam’s apple as he swallowed. His gaze was sticky, looking exactly as if his tongue had already licked across it.
Shen Yanzhou wasn’t oblivious to this near-insulting scrutiny, but he was too lazy to rebuke it. This sense of danger being watched by a fierce beast while eating caused him to half-close his eyes, letting that dog use his gaze to taste his neck over and over again.
Only when the congee inside the bowl had depleted by a small half, easing the empty spasms in his stomach, did Shen Yanzhou turn his face away, saying detachedly: “Enough.”
“I’m leaving. I might not return tonight.”
With that, completely disregarding the man’s crestfallen expression, he pushed open the main villa door without a backward glance and stepped into the car.
During the morning rush hour on Connaught Road Central, the black Maybach was trapped inside a long dragon of vehicles, completely unable to advance a single pace.
The atmospheric pressure inside the vehicle was exceptionally low. In the front seat, the assistant, Xiao Chen, sat on pins and needles. The tablet screen in his hand lit up and died, died and lit up again, and his gaze shuttled through the rearview mirror to frequently scan the Shen Yanzhou in the back seat, his face a complete picture of hesitating words.
“Um… Director Shen,” Xiao Chen’s voice was tight. “The road ahead seems to be cordoned off.”
Shen Yanzhou leaned against the backrest with closed eyes, not even lifting his eyelids at the news. “A traffic accident?”
“No…” Xiao Chen swallowed hard. “It’s—it’s a motorcade clearing the path. The public relations department just sent over a live-stream snippet. Do you want to see…?”
“Play it.”
Xiao Chen opened the live-stream slice that was already spreading manically through all of Hong Kong. The originally silent vehicle was instantly filled with the excessively exaggerated timbre of the Hong Kong media:
“Wow! Viewers, open your eyes wide! The crown prince of the Fu family, Fu Sihan, has made a low-profile return to Hong Kong!”
The background audio in the video was deafening, the reporter roaring with intense hype:
“They claim it’s a low-profile return, but this line-up is truly terrifying! Twelve Rolls-Royces clearing the path, half of Chek Lap Kok Airport sealed dead by black-suited bodyguards! A source even leaked that Eldest Master Fu’s sudden return to the nest this time isn’t to scramble for family fortune, but for the number-one beauty of the Hong Kong circle Shen Yanzhou!”
Shen Yanzhou opened his eyes, his focus settling onto the tablet screen in the front seat. The camera in the footage was shaking violently.
“It truly is ‘a prodigal son turning back is worth more than gold’! Recalling back in the day, Eldest Master Fu was famously known in Lan Kwai Fong for ‘passing through thousands of flowers without a single petal clinging,’ yet today he’s actually willing to seal his play-book and settle down for Mr. Shen? This centenary alliance I see a massive drama unfolding…”
The noisy voice continued. Seeing Shen Yanzhou’s face turn increasingly pale, Xiao Chen frantically tried to shut down the video out of sheer terror. “Director Shen, these paparazzi just have loose mouths, I’ll close it right away…”
“No need.”
Shen Yanzhou spoke coldly, his focus shifting from the screen to settle onto the magazine Xiao Chen had casually tossed onto the passenger seat. The newly published edition of Hong Kong Daily bore a garish red-and-green cover, making it impossible to ignore.
“That one too,” he extended a slender, pale hand, palm up, his tone detached. “Bring it over.”
Xiao Chen felt bitter in his heart, tremblingly delivering the magazine into that hand.
Shen Yanzhou lowered his eyes, looking at the sensationalized, bold black headlines across the cover:
【Exclusive! Billion-Dollar Crown Prince Makes High-Profile Return to Hong Kong, Lavishing Massive Fortunes Just to Secure a Smile From Mr. Shen?】
【Deep Confession! Fu Sihan: These Past Few Years, I Have Been Thinking of Him Every Single Hour and Minute.】
And a pink heart graphic in the middle that had been photoshopped to look cracked and then forcibly stitched back together.
“Deep affection? Thinking of me? We haven’t even properly met,” Shen Yanzhou looked at the line of text, the corners of his mouth curling into a mocking smile.
This pack of media outlets taking money to run stories truly wanted to turn this drama into a modern edition of Cinderella. Packaging a madman who found pleasure in torturing Omegas to death into a deeply affectionate, aristocratic gentleman, while molding him the victim forced into an alliance, who was even currently plotting to “discard the father after securing the child” into a lucky bird flying onto a golden branch.
“Director Shen,” the assistant in the front seat looked at the Shen生 sitting in the rearview mirror, his complexion looking rather unappealing, as he spoke with extreme caution. “The public relations department just called, mentioning that the company’s hotline numbers have been blown up completely. They’re all media outlets wanting to book exclusive interviews, and…”
Xiao Chen pointed toward the horizon a short distance outside the window, where the skyscraper of the Shen Group headquarters towered into the clouds.
“Downstairs at the company… the situation doesn’t look quite right.”
Shen Yanzhou tilted his head, looking through the glass toward the exterior.
The entrance before the office building, usually orderly and disciplined, had already been cordoned off until it was completely watertight. A black mass of heads surged, multi-colored umbrellas crushed together, and lenses and tripods were everywhere. Countless paparazzi wearing press badges were tightly blocking the entrance like flies that had caught the scent of blood.
There were even several fanatical “CP fans” holding fluorescent signs reading “Shen & Fu Together Forever” and “I Dig This,” screaming at the top of their lungs in the rain.
Is this the meeting gift Fu Sihan has delivered?
Before his person even arrives before him, he utilizes public opinion to build momentum, hoisting him over a fire to roast. If he displays a single sliver of unwillingness or a cold face at this moment, tomorrow’s headlines will transform into vicious speculations like “Shen Yanzhou Doesn’t Know What’s Good For Him” or “A Broken Wealthy Dream.”
This is forcing him to comply, forcing him to act out the persona of an obedient, deeply grateful fiancée before the public.
“Director Shen, why don’t… we take the underground parking garage?” the assistant offered with concern. “This pack of paparazzi gets terrifyingly rabid when they go wild.”
“No need,” Shen Yanzhou lifted his eyes.
“This is the main entrance of the Shen family firm, and I am the master of the Shen family firm.”
“Why should I skulk around like a rat?”
“Park the car,” he said flatly.
The Maybach slowed to a stop along the roadside. The Hong Kong media outlets who had been staking out this spot for a long time disregarded the torrential rain, hoisting their gear and manically pounding against the car windows.
The bodyguards worked hard to pop open massive black umbrellas, forcibly tearing open a gap within the human surge as the vehicle door slowly slid open.
Click! Click! Click! Amidst the rising and falling sounds of shutters, time was stretched exceptionally slowly.
Shen Yanzhou stepped out from the vehicle, wearing a wide pair of sunglasses that masked the dark circles beneath his eyes and his usual weary detachment. His spine was ramrod straight, his jaw slightly tilted. An innate, high-and-mighty aristocratic aloofness caused the paparazzi who wanted to charge forward to instinctively retreat half a pace, before surging forward even more manically.
The questions were increasingly sharp and explicit, carrying the unique offense of the Hong Kong media:
“Mr. Shen! Mr. Shen, look over here! Eldest Master Fu has made a high-profile return is your happy occasion close at hand?!” “Mr. Shen! Give us a smile! Marrying into a wealthy family is such a joyous occasion, why keep such a rigid face? Are you dissatisfied with Eldest Master Fu?” “Mr. Shen! Word is Eldest Master Fu quit smoking and drinking for you is it true? Give us a response!”
Countless microphones vied to push before him. He was completely deaf to them, moving toward the building with a detached expression under the escort of his bodyguards. His eye-blocking arrogance instead provoked this pack of reporters to grow even more rabid, their questions turning increasingly explicit.
Buzz— The phone gripped inside his palm suddenly vibrated once.
Shen Yanzhou’s steps paused a fraction, elegantly sliding open the screen.
Sender: 【J】 (Jiang Xu). That information broker again.
[J]: Beautiful Shen, good morning. Offering you an exclusive piece of massive news for free, treated as a rebate for that thirty-million business of yours. This is a fresh-out-of-the-oven piece of raw material, far more brilliant than what’s on the newspapers.
[J]: [Image] [Image]
Shen Yanzhou’s slender fingertip clicked open the images.
The first photo was taken quite shiftily. Before a floor-to-ceiling window, the nightscape of Victoria Harbour acted as a background canvas. Across a leather sofa, a man was shirtless, his head tilted back with his neck muscles bulging, his posture wild and indulgent. Beside him, two Omegas with voluptuous frames were entangling him with extreme sycophancy, the imagery so debauched it was nauseating.
The second photo was a close-up. The man had turned his head, presently lighting a cigarette. The spark illuminated half of his handsome yet brooding face none other than the crown prince of the Fu family, Fu Sihan, who was being hailed by all of Hong Kong’s media today as “deeply affectionate as the seas” and “keeping his body pure.”
Following below was the text sent by Jiang旭:
【The moment he landed last night, he opened a presidential suite and called a pair of twins. Tsk, Mr. Shen, this fiancée of yours truly possesses rampant energy I’m worried for your waist.】
“Heh.”
Staring at the screen, Shen Yanzhou suddenly let out an exceptionally light, cold laugh. This smile was incredibly brief, yet it was breathtakingly beautiful. Several reporters standing close by were left dazed, even the shutter sounds slowing by half a beat.
This is the so-called “deep affection”?
Erecting a monument of deep affection before the media to manipulate public opinion and force a marriage, while simultaneously playing with a double-flight on a hotel bed, venting his unplaceable bestial lust. A physiological sensation of nausea surged into his throat.
“Mr. Shen? What are you smiling at? Is there some good news?” a reporter asked, still hunting for a story.
Shen Yanzhou turned his head a fraction, the eyes behind his sunglasses cold as frost. His thin lips parted slightly, just about to spit out a single “beat it.”
Suddenly, a massive commotion erupted along the outer perimeter of the crowd.
“He’s here! He’s here!”
“Heavens! This Phantom… it’s Fu Sihan himself!!”
Meanwhile, in a private apartment with an exceptional view in Mid-Levels, Central.
Jiang Xu, dressed in a bathrobe, was lazily sunk into his sofa, holding a cup of freshly ground Blue Mountain coffee. Those romantic, lingering eyes of his watched the hundred-inch projector screen before him with intense interest. The footage displayed the grand live-stream occurring across all of Hong Kong.
As the door of that luxurious Rolls-Royce opened, Fu Sihan extended his long legs, stepping into the frame.
One had to admit that this skin was indeed top-tier. The deep gray English three-piece suit wrapped his upright frame flawlessly broad shoulders and narrow waist, every gesture radiating the aggressive hormones of an S-class Alpha. A face so handsome it provoked divine wrath was sufficient to leave all the Omegas in Hong Kong unable to close their legs.
And the Shen Yanzhou standing opposite him, dressed in a black suit with silver hair like snow, looked detached, noble, and beautiful to an extreme.
The camera zoomed in. The two stood face-to-face. One dominant and powerful, one cold and brilliant. Under the blanket of camera flashes and the rain screen, the image of these two standing together carried a visual impact that was potent to the absolute extreme—completely a pair forged by heaven and earth, matching so perfectly one couldn’t pick out a single flaw.
“Tsk, truly two fine skins…”
Jiang Xu admired this gorgeous imagery, the corners of his mouth curling into a playful arc. His slender fingers gently stroked the phone pressed against his ear, reporting to the other end of the line with total casualness:
“Boss.”
“According to your instructions, those two ‘appetizers’ have already been delivered to Shen生.”
Watching Shen Yanzhou unleash that cold smile upon seeing Fu Sihan on the screen, he couldn’t help but lament: “That expression on Shen生’s face… is truly absolute. I reckon he currently wants to throw up directly all over Fu Sihan.”
“But Boss…” Jiang Xu paused, his tone carrying a few parts of testing. “Though these photos can make him feel disgusted by Fu Sihan, performing it so absolutely aren’t you afraid Shen生 will track down that we were the ones who staged the setup?”
The man on the other end of the line remained silent for a brief moment.
Inside a spacious, luxurious open kitchen, a phone lined with an anti-shatter film was propped beside the sink. The screen displayed the exact same news footage.
The man was wearing pink rubber gloves, a sponge saturated with foam in his hand, as he meticulously wiped the porcelain bowl Shen Yanzhou had used to drink congee. His gaze stared deathly at the frame flashing across the screen: flanked by countless flashes, Fu Sihan’s eyesore of a hand was lightly resting near the side of Shen Yanzhou’s waist.
Crack.
The porcelain bowl let out an unendurable, crisp snap, a fine hairline fracture splitting open beneath the man’s thumb print.
“Boss?” Jiang Xu caught the commotion.
The man expressionlessly loosened his hand, tossing the fractured bowl into the trash bin, stripping off his gloves, his gaze brooding:
“What if he tracks it down? No one can dream of scrambling for my person.”
“A legal fiancée won’t do either.”
“My person, whoever touches them dies.”