Every inch of Sheng Yu exuded a sharp, merciless intensity, so potent that Qin Sang, lost in the haze of their encounter, almost convinced herself of a dangerous illusion: that his love had always been hers alone.
That his obsession, his unrelenting possessiveness, and his maddening desire had been brewing all these years.
For a fleeting moment, she almost forgot the lies, the concealments, and the truth that had been tangled in their love.
The reunion was too fierce. Qin Sang, overwhelmed and teetering on the edge of sleep, let tears glimmer in her eyes. Softly, almost breathlessly, she murmured:
“Ah Yu…”
Not once, but over and over.
Before slipping completely into slumber, she caught his low, ragged voice at her ear:
“Qin Sang… are you really short on money?”
Her body was weak, every fiber aching. The sensual sounds he had drawn from her left her mind too clouded to fully comprehend his words. Still, hearing him speak, she thought she ought to respond, and murmured faintly:
“Mm~.”
Sheng Yu looked down at her trembling form, his body still radiating desire, yet his eyes were icy:
“Then remember, tonight you made a deal with me.”
Exhausted and dazed, Qin Sang could only respond with a faint, helpless:
“Oh~.”
“Good girl.” Sheng Yu’s fingertip brushed lightly across her glistening, flushed lips. A sly, dark smile tugged at his mouth. “I recorded it.”
His hand pressed over her heart, possessive and commanding. His hoarse voice carried a cold edge:
“From now on, whenever I want, you’ll come.”
He applied pressure as if punishing, his words chilling:
“Otherwise… if you’ve got the guts, try disappearing without a trace again.”
A shiver ran through Qin Sang’s chest. Weakly, she whispered in agreement:
“Uh… okay~.”
Summoning her last bit of strength, she lifted her drowsy eyelids to glance at him, and then finally surrendered to sleep.
Sheng Yu watched her, lying in his arms, her skin marked by his lingering traces of desire. That rare, vivid sense of reality set his blood boiling—so intensely it felt like it was consuming him from the inside out.
It was four in the morning in late autumn.
The sky outside the villa was still dark.
In the villa’s dimly lit sitting room, only a small night lamp burned weakly, casting shadows across the oppressive space.
Zhao Zifeng—the man who had gotten Qin Sang drunk at the bar—sat alone, waiting. His accomplices had already been dealt with by Sheng Yu’s bodyguards. As their ringleader, Zhao Zifeng had been brought here to await Sheng Yu’s judgment.
There wasn’t even a servant stationed nearby, yet Zhao Zifeng didn’t dare flee. He couldn’t even summon the courage to urge anyone to fetch Sheng Yu. Each second dragged on in excruciating torment.
Over the past hours, he had imagined every possible outcome for himself, cold sweat drying on his skin again and again, filled with regret for ever crossing that woman’s path.
He knew Sheng Yu’s reputation—feared by everyone in the circles of power. Anyone who dared provoke him was lucky to survive. Even death was merciful compared to the slow torment Sheng Yu could inflict.
Sheng Yu acted decisively. When he moved, there was no mercy. When he struck, he erased every trace of opposition.
Years ago, Zhao Zifeng had been just a child of a Sheng family illegitimate line. In under six months, Sheng Yu had seized the position meant for the original heir.
The next two years saw the entire Sheng family reshuffled—those who opposed him ended up in prison or silenced permanently. Sheng Yu knew no concept of familial attachment.
Cold. Ruthless. Merciless.
The Sheng family had once been a clan enterprise. Now, it was a conglomerate under Sheng Yu alone.
Within just three years, he had risen to the very top of the elite hierarchy, commanding respect and fear throughout the country. All addressed him reverently: “Sheng Sanye.”
His reputation struck awe across the world.
The faintly lit sitting room suddenly brightened as the lights came on. Footsteps echoed.
The moment the light hit him, Zhao Zifeng froze. Every nerve on edge, he stumbled to his feet, eyes locked on the approaching figure—Sheng Yu, flanked by two bodyguards.
Having just finished an intimate encounter, Sheng Yu wore only black lounge pants and a casually draped black blazer over his bare chest. Black slippers adorned his feet. The marks on his chest and neck—a mix of scratches from passion—were both shocking and strangely alluring.
Even in his languid, careless posture, Zhao Zifeng nearly collapsed to his knees at the sight.
After hours of waiting, Zhao Zifeng forced himself forward, voice trembling:
“Sh-Sheng Sanye…”
Sheng Yu said nothing. He simply strode past him, taking the seat of authority, crossing one leg over the other, and glancing at Zhao Zifeng with cool disdain:
“You have five minutes.”
He didn’t shout. He didn’t glare. His lazy, almost bored tone sufficed to make Zhao Zifeng’s knees buckle. The man collapsed, trembling, at Sheng Yu’s feet.
“Sheng Sanye, please spare me! I—I didn’t know it was your person. Otherwise, no matter how brave I am, I wouldn’t have touched her! Please… forgive me this time. I’ll follow your orders in everything from now on!”
Sheng Yu’s thumb idly played with the jade ring on his finger, his gaze heavy and oppressive.
Zhao Zifeng swallowed hard, guessing his words weren’t enough. Heart pounding, he hurriedly continued, humble and anxious:
“I… I found a ring at the bar that night. It wasn’t valuable, so I was going to throw it away. Then the girl came looking for it, said she’d lost it, and asked if I could return it. I… I thought it was beautiful, got distracted, and tried to make her drink with me. She refused, acting all high and mighty, so I…”
He paused, unable to lie, forced to confess:
“I just wanted to extort her with money… ah!”
Before he could finish, Sheng Yu’s ceramic cup slammed violently into Zhao Zifeng’s chest. An aggressive, brutal voice tore through the silence:
“What are you? Dare to bully her?”
The force was immense. Zhao Zifeng felt as though his insides had been shattered. He couldn’t even clutch his chest, barely managing to spit out blood.
“Sheng Sanye… please… I’ll never dare again!” Zhao Zifeng crawled forward, ignoring the pain, desperate. “Please forgive my ignorance this once!”