Fu Yan turned and headed back to the hospital ward.
When he pushed open the door, he found his grandfather reclining against the headboard, his complexion ashen and his eyes cloudy.
Just moments ago, the old man had been arguing with him fiercely and even had enough strength to kick him. Yet now, he suddenly looked as though he had aged several years, frail enough that he might not have much time left.
Fu Yan walked to the bedside.
This time, he didn’t make any sarcastic remarks or provoke another argument. He simply stood there in silence.
Old Master Fu looked up at him and drew a labored breath. When he spoke, his voice trembled slightly.
“Yan Yan, ever since you were little, Grandfather has always let you have your way.”
“Just this once, can you listen to your grandfather?”
“I don’t have many years left. My only wish is to see you settle down and start a family.”
“The Wen family are descendants of the person who once saved my life. I personally promised them this marriage.”
“I’ve kept my word all my life. Now that I’m nearing the end, I can’t become someone who breaks his promises…”
As he spoke, the old man’s eyes genuinely reddened. He raised a hand and wiped away the moisture gathering at their corners.
“If you refuse, even after I die, I’ll be too ashamed to face those who have already passed on.”
Fu Yan’s Adam’s apple bobbed.
A long silence settled over the hospital ward.
It stretched on for so long that even the steady beeping of the heart monitor seemed unusually loud.
Finally, Fu Yan gave a quiet response.
“…Fine.”
There was still irritation in his voice, but the fierce hostility from earlier had disappeared.
Old Master Fu immediately raised his head.
Fu Yan turned his face away, his expression stiff.
“I can agree to meet her.”
“But let me make one thing clear.”
“If she really is some dull, rigid, hopelessly old-fashioned woman who can’t even hold an interesting conversation…”
“Then I’m still not marrying her.”
Old Master Fu immediately breathed a sigh of relief.
Even the rise and fall of his chest seemed to grow steadier.
He nodded repeatedly.
“Good, good! Just meet her first. That’s all I’m asking. Meet her once…”
Fu Yan impatiently undid the top button of his shirt and dropped onto the sofa.
He closed his eyes, his brows drawn together in a deep frown.
The desire that had been so abruptly interrupted earlier still hadn’t completely faded.
One moment, his thoughts drifted to the indistinct silhouette of the woman lying in that bed, her softness and warmth making his chest tighten with longing.
The next, he remembered his grandfather’s pale, weakened face, and the weight of that image made it difficult to breathe.
After a moment of silence, he took out his phone.
His thumb hovered over the screen before he finally sent Chen Zhou a message.
[Investigate the Wen family. I want every detail you can find.]
Once the message was sent, he tossed the phone aside and rubbed his temples.
A refined young lady from a distinguished family?
Just hearing those words made him imagine someone rigid, boring, and obsessed with etiquette.
Someone completely incompatible with him.
He had spent thirty years living exactly as he pleased.
He was accustomed to being wild, ruthless, and unconstrained. Nothing irritated him more than people who put on airs, clung to outdated customs, and constantly preached about propriety.
If his grandfather hadn’t forced the issue, he wouldn’t even have considered meeting this woman.
The following morning, at the hotel.
Wen Shushu slowly opened her eyes, still caught between sleep and wakefulness.
Before she could fully gather her thoughts, her heart sank.
An unfamiliar room.
Disheveled bedsheets.
Torn clothing scattered across the carpet.
Every detail served as undeniable evidence of just how intense the previous night had been.
She struggled to push herself upright.
A wave of soreness immediately swept through her body, as though she had been crushed beneath something heavy. Even lifting her arms required considerable effort.
Leaning against the headboard, she tried to piece together the fragmented memories drifting through her mind.
The faint scent of tequila from the tavern still seemed to linger in her nose, mingling with a barely perceptible fragrance of gardenias.
Gradually, the events of the previous night came rushing back.
There had been a GT race.
She had climbed into her silver-and-black Porsche, pressed her foot firmly against the accelerator, and charged into the darkness.
One high-speed corner after another.
She had pushed the accelerator to the floor, watching the speedometer climb at a terrifying rate as the wind roared past.
In those moments, the entire world had seemed to disappear.
All that remained was the thunderous roar of the engine and her nerves stretched to their absolute limit.
She hadn’t really been racing.
She had been venting her frustrations.
When she reached the final straightaway, she pressed the accelerator down completely and surged forward with one decisive burst of speed.
The silver-and-black racing car crossed the finish line first.
She had won again.
And there hadn’t been the slightest doubt about the outcome.
Yet the exhilaration of crossing the finish line lasted only a few fleeting seconds.
The suffocating frustration lodged deep in her chest remained exactly where it was.
She couldn’t release it, nor could she force it down.
After crossing the finish line, she hadn’t lingered for even a moment.
When she removed her racing helmet, the loose strands of hair around her forehead were damp with sweat, clinging limply to her cheeks.
A little dust from the racetrack had even settled on the ends of her hair.
She brushed it away carelessly.
As she did, her fingertips grazed the gardenia embroidered over the left side of her racing suit.
She had spent half the night sewing that flower herself.
The delicate embroidery had cost her several painful pricks, leaving tiny red marks scattered across her fingertips.
Even so, she had stubbornly continued until the final stitch was complete.
Because she wanted to bring another part of herself into this world.
The Wen Shushu who wore elegant qipaos during the day, who spoke softly and carried herself with the gentle composure expected of a refined young lady.
She wanted to sew that version of herself into the racing suit, stitch by stitch.
Into a garment that carried the scent of wind, gasoline, and freedom.
She wanted that gentle, obedient version of herself to experience what the wind tasted like.
Afterward, she drove straight back to the pit garage, changed her clothes, pulled on a baseball cap, and slipped out through the rear entrance.
But the frustration weighing on her heart still had nowhere to go.
So she headed to the tavern she often visited.
She settled into a secluded corner and began drinking.
One glass after another.
The strong liquor burned its way down her throat, leaving her esophagus aching.
Several times, the harsh taste made her cough uncontrollably.
Her eyes reddened, but she stubbornly forced herself to swallow every mouthful.
Then, a tall shadow suddenly fell across her table.
Someone had stopped in front of her.
She was already so drunk that she could barely lift her head.
The brim of her cap was pulled low over her eyes, obscuring most of her vision.
All she could make out was a pair of polished black leather shoes.
She hadn’t even seen the man’s face.
Yet she could vaguely sense that he possessed an exceptionally commanding presence.
There was also a faint scent of alcohol clinging to him.
For some inexplicable reason, she felt that he carried the same loneliness she did.
As though they were two strangers who had both come here to escape something.
Perhaps it was the alcohol.
Perhaps it was the frustration she had been suppressing for far too long.
Or perhaps, for once in her life, she simply wanted to do something completely reckless.
Whatever the reason, a sudden impulse overcame her.
And for the first time in her life, she boldly asked a stranger a question she never would have imagined herself saying.
“Want to spend the night together?”
The very next moment, the man swept her into his arms.
Before she could fully comprehend what was happening, she had been carried away, plunging headfirst into a night that spiraled completely beyond her control.
What followed was an absurd, passionate encounter that neither of them had anticipated.
Wen Shushu raised a hand and gently massaged her still-aching head.
Her thoughts were a tangled mess, and an uncomfortable bitterness lingered in her chest.
Ever since childhood, she had been taught to behave like a proper young lady.
She was expected to be gentle, composed, restrained, and respectful of tradition.
She had also been reminded countless times that her first intimate experience must be reserved for her future husband.
Yet last night…
She had given herself to a complete stranger.
A man whose face she hadn’t even seen clearly.
And she had done it so impulsively.
Wen Shushu shook her head, trying to clear away the confusion.
Then she leaned toward the bedside table and reached for her phone.
Even her fingers still felt strangely weak.
She dialed a familiar number.
As soon as the call connected, she spoke.
“Brother Ye, bring me some clothes.”
A startled voice immediately erupted from the other end.
“Wen Shushu! What on earth have you been doing?!”
“Hurry up. I’m waiting.”
Without offering any explanation, she ended the call.
Then she sent Jiang Ye her location.