Evening.
The sky darkened, wind blew, and snow fell.
Looking down from the mountaintop, the harbor lights at the base shimmered brilliantly, a dazzling spectacle of prosperity.
Before the floor-to-ceiling window, Fu Jinglan sat tall in his chair, slowly swirling his wine glass.
Ice cubes clinked crisply inside.
Mu Suizhou sat opposite him.
“Judging from the photo of Miss Shen at age ten, only her eyebrows and eyes resemble Xiaosi.”
Nothing else does.
As he spoke, Mu Suizhou opened his laptop.
After facial recognition, he entered an encrypted password.
“The Shen family is extremely cautious. Information about their descendants is well-protected.”
“Through various means, I only managed to find one video, which was quickly taken down across the internet by the Shen family’s intervention.”
Mu Suizhou clicked on the video, then turned the screen toward Fu Jinglan with a twist of his hand.
“Miss Shen was helping her friend Song Zhili out. She was sixteen at the time.”
It was a fashion show themed “Spring.”
Fu Jinglan let out a cold, mocking laugh as the wine passed his throat, icy and sharp.
“She really dares to help with anything.”
Even before watching the video, Fu Jinglan could guess why it had been taken down so quickly.
On the screen, cheerful music played as the luxurious runway filled with spectators.
Photography teams aimed their long and short lenses.
At the end of the runway, Shen Lingxi appeared under dazzling lights.
She wore light, playful makeup.
Her center-parted, slightly wavy long hair framed a delicate, straight-across fringe.
She wore only a strapless bustier top adorned with three-dimensional floral clusters, revealing a slender waist, paired with a honey-pink mini leather skirt.
Just her face alone drew cheers from the audience.
Shen Lingxi stepped forward in delicate high heels, her stride light and confident.
Her wavy long hair bounced with each step.
The lines of her abdominal muscles twisted beautifully under the light.
For a moment, all the flashes focused on Shen Lingxi.
Fu Jinglan gripped his wine glass, his expression darkening as he remained silent.
Mu Suizhou glanced at him. “Miss Shen even won first prize and was hailed as the ‘Spring Sprite.'”
Fu Jinglan set down his glass, leaned forward, and lit a cigarette.
Smoke drifted lazily before the man’s face.
“Sprite? I don’t see anything sprite-like about her. Even a simple lunch can be ruined by a cat.”
Useless weakling.
Mu Suizhou hadn’t expected Fu Jinglan’s anger to linger even after the cat was gone.
After Shen Lingxi’s showcase, the video cut directly to the end of the event.
Flowers drifted through the air across the runway.
All the models took the stage, radiating youthful energy as they danced freely and joyfully to the music.
Shen Lingxi was among them.
Song Zhili, despite her injured leg, also joined them on stage.
During the fastest part of the song, Shen Lingxi even playfully led Song Zhili in a few seconds of twerking.
It was agile, smooth, and devoid of any vulgarity—simply cute and full of vitality.
Mini leather skirt, big waves, twerking…
Fu Jinglan’s eyes suddenly darkened, his throat tightening with heat.
He instinctively raised his cigarette-holding hand to loosen his tie.
Only to remember he had already removed it, leaving it in Shen Lingxi’s room.
Mu Suizhou watched Fu Jinglan’s empty-handed gesture, puzzled. “What are you looking for?”
Fu Jinglan lowered his hand, stubbed out his cigarette, and closed the laptop in one motion.
“Delete the video.”
This Shen Lingxi, dressed so beautifully, so joyfully, twisting and dancing in front of a crowd.
That little rabbit really knows how to provoke anger.
Just then, the phone on the coffee table lit up.
Fu Jinglan leaned over and pressed the speakerphone button, his tone detached and calm. “Mr. Shen.”
First came the airport’s transfer announcement, followed by Shen Lanting’s voice:
“Governor, is Ah Xi the person you’re looking for?”
Fu Jinglan’s face was cold and aloof.
“No.”
Whether it was Shen Lingxi at ten or sixteen, aside from the resemblance in the eyes and expression, there was nothing else like Xiaosi.
“Governor Fu, I beg you to treat Ah Xi well.”
Shen Lanting’s throat nearly choked up. “A temple master once said that Ah Xi’s Life Fate isn’t in her own hands. It’s hard for her to live past 23.”
“A year from now, you must return Ah Xi to me safely.”
No wonder, in the contract’s breach of agreement compensation clause, there was an additional note:
Except in the case of accidental death.
If Shen Lingxi were to die accidentally, causing Fu Jinglan to be unable to return her, he wouldn’t need to fulfill the compensation responsibility.
Shen Lanting’s words were like the wind on a winter night, piercing through the glass and blowing straight into Fu Jinglan’s chest.
So cold.
He couldn’t help but straighten up and turn the phone volume to maximum.
“If her Life Fate isn’t in her own hands, where is it?”
Shen Lanting closed his eyes briefly. “No one can calculate that.”
The beams of light from the night harbor’s neon lights flashed past Fu Jinglan’s profile. He let out a cold laugh.
“Mr. Shen is far too superstitious.”
The six lines of the I Ching cannot exhaust all matters under heaven; even the plum blossom divination has its moments of uncertainty.
“If it’s truly as you say, as long as Shen Lingxi is by my side, she can completely borrow my Life Fate.”
Fu Jinglan had no intention of living too long. What harm would it be to give Shen Lingxi a few years of life?
The call was cut off, and the phone slid onto the coffee table.
Fu Jinglan’s expression grew even more unpleasant.
“To think Shen Lanting is a teacher at a law university, spouting such nonsense.”
Mu Suizhou expressed agreement. “Shen Lanting has just memorized too many legal articles, to the point he actually believes in gods and Buddhas.”
The next second, Mu Suizhou couldn’t believe his ears.
What was that man saying—the one leaning against the floor-to-ceiling window, taking in the night view of the mountains below, aloof and unattainable?
“Find time to go to Beiling Temple and ask whether this Shen Lingxi is truly short-lived.”
Beiling Temple was the most authoritative temple in Bei Zhou.
On the mountainside stood a ten-thousand-year-old ancient tree, said to grant wishes effectively.
Moreover, at the mountaintop, there was a mysterious master. Many powerful figures and celebrities had spent fortunes trying to meet him, yet few succeeded.
So, did Fu Jinglan believe in gods and Buddhas now?
How far was he from becoming a Shen then?
“Alright, I’ll make the arrangements.”
Mu Suizhou dragged the mouse and asked Fu Jinglan about the video again.
“This video of Miss Shen is the last existing copy. Are you sure you want to delete it?”
“Keep it. After all, it won an award—something about a little springtime enchantress. Who knows, if she’s gone one day, her life resume might seem too sparse.”
Fu Jinglan rose from the sofa chair, his tall frame unfolding. “Let’s go to the gym for a match.”
Mu Suizhou loosened his tie and caught up with Fu Jinglan in two steps.
“Just one match? Old Fu, are you getting old?”
Fu Jinglan walked while unfastening his wristwatch, casually tossing it onto the sofa.
“In the prime of life.”
Knowing Fu Jinglan was in a somber mood—no miracle for Xiaosi, and Shen Lingxi likely short-lived—Mu Suizhou deliberately bumped his shoulder.
“How prime? Old Fu, how long can you last in one go?”
“…” Fu Jinglan, “Definitely longer than you.”
“Non-stop?”
“Get lost.”
In the gym, an hour passed.
Sweat rolled and dripped over Fu Jinglan’s muscles, tracing winding paths.
Bare-chested, his cold, pale skin contrasted sharply with the two snakes coiled menacingly and prominently on his waist.
By now, the pain and itch from the rainy, snowy weather had eased considerably.
Fu Jinglan twisted open a water bottle with one hand and drank half of it in one go.
His hair was damp with sweat, slightly curled, droplets falling from the ends and trickling down the side of his face.
In the past, after every fight, Xiaosi would not only bring flowers but also promptly hand him a towel.
With round, bright eyes shining, she would ask with concern:
“Brother, were you hurt today?”
“Brother, does it hurt?”
Now, it was Mu Suizhou tossing a towel to Fu Jinglan.
“Should we continue investigating Miss Shen’s matter?”
Fu Jinglan understood what Mu Suizhou meant—regardless of whether Shen Lanting cooperated or not, the paternity test between him and Shen Lingxi would still be conducted.
What kind of place was Lushan Manor?
From the moment Shen Lanting stepped through the door, his fingerprints, DNA… all his biometric information had become completely transparent.
Fu Jinglan raised a hand, sweeping his damp hair back.
Revealing a full, sweat-drenched face that looked sculpted.
“Investigate. We need to see if Shen Lanting is telling the truth.”