After Song Zhili left the Deer Manor, Shen Lingxi cried her eyes out.
Now, walking alone through the snow, she quietly planned her next steps.
After the New Year, Beizhou would host a prestigious architectural design competition. She was determined to participate. Should she design a piece titled “A Bird’s-Eye View of Snow-Covered Beizhou Island”?
Shen Lingxi was lost in thought.
“Miss Shen.”
Mu Suizhou had been waiting for Shen Lingxi for a while, the black leather jacket on his shoulders dusted with snow.
His hair was damp too. “Shall we talk?”
Shen Lingxi nodded, her heart pounding. “Alright.”
…
Mu Suizhou had his own detached villa, not far from Fu Jinglan’s.
He brought over a cup of hot cocoa and handed it to Shen Lingxi with both hands.
“Do all girls like this?”
Shen Lingxi accepted it with both hands as well. “Thank you, I do.”
She took a small sip—warm, cozy, and sweet. “Secretary-General Mu, what did you want to talk to me about? Go ahead.”
Mu Suizhou settled into the sofa opposite her.
His pale blue-tinted white shirt made his complexion appear even paler.
Shen Lingxi always felt that both Fu Jinglan and Mu Suizhou had overly cold, pale complexions, as if they had rarely seen sunlight while growing up.
Mu Suizhou clasped his hands together, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly. “It’s like this.”
“Old Fu didn’t grow up with his parents as a child. Kids, wanting to grow up… anyway, he had to endure a lot of hardships. It’s been a tough day. Could you go cheer him up a bit, hmm?”
Shen Lingxi slowly processed Mu Suizhou’s words.
When they parted ways after descending from the scenic mountain, Fu Jinglan’s figure had indeed seemed very desolate.
“Why did they abandon him?”
Mu Suizhou tried to keep his expression neutral. “Adults have their own difficulties.”
“Old Fu’s birth mother came today. We should thank her, or else who would have known that three days from now is Old Fu’s birthday.”
Fu Jinglan was already twenty-five and hadn’t even known his own birthday.
Shen Lingxi held the cup, taking another sip of hot cocoa.
It didn’t taste as sweet anymore.
“Then where did he grow up?”
“Were the people around him good to him?”
“Did he ever eat the Hundred-Seed Fortune Dumplings?”
In Beizhou, whether noble or commoner, every child must eat Hundred-Seed Fortune Dumplings on their third, sixth, and ninth birthdays.
It was the most significant birthday ritual for children.
It symbolized the dispelling of all illnesses and an abundance of fortune, prosperity, and joy.
Shen Lingxi knew that making Hundred-Seed Fortune Dumplings was incredibly difficult.
First, you had to visit one hundred households with different surnames to ask for grains, collecting one hundred different types of grain. The subsequent preparation was also very troublesome.
To put it harshly, a child who had never eaten Hundred-Seed Fortune Dumplings had never truly been loved.
Mu Suizhou lowered his eyelashes; each question was difficult to answer.
After a long while.
“I refuse to answer the first question; for the second, they were not good to him; third, he never ate the Fortune Dumplings.”
Shen Lingxi’s nose instantly stung with tears.
She suddenly recalled a saying—”Innocent childhood, unaware of life’s troubles, is the happiest time of one’s life.”
Yet Fu Jinglan’s childhood was shrouded in gray, devoid of joy.
Shen Lingxi took one last sip of hot cocoa.
It was completely devoid of sweetness now.
Before leaving, Shen Lingxi asked Mu Suizhou, “The person executed by firing squad at the base today—he deserved to die anyway, right?”
Mu Suizhou answered firmly:
“Yes, according to Beizhou law, he was bound to die. He was just executed ahead of schedule.”
And with a few extra bullets.
Outside the window, the snow fell unhurriedly.
Fu Jinglan had just bathed. His hair, still damp, curled slightly. He wore a loose black bathrobe.
He settled into a soft chair on the balcony. On the small table before him lay a sealed photograph.
Its corners were stained with dried blood.
Fu Jinglan picked up the photograph.
In it, his younger self knelt on the fighting ring, blood trickling from his mouth.
Beside him, also kneeling, was the tiny figure of Xiaosi.
Her face was streaked with tears, her hair damp and clinging to her cheeks as she used a handkerchief to wipe the blood from the corner of his mouth.
Standing before them was a glamorous, high-heeled noblewoman.
Crouching down, she wore a vicious smile as she held a thick stack of banknotes before Fu Jinglan’s eyes, one foot pressing harshly against his hand.
Yes, in the underground fighting rings, it wasn’t just Xiaosi who caught the eye of the wealthy.
Those like Fu Jinglan and Mu Suizhou, born with striking looks, were also targeted.
Just today, someone—from who knows where—had obtained this photo, driving a knife straight into Fu Jinglan’s most vulnerable spot.
The words of that person before being executed still echoed in his ears:
“Who would have thought that the lofty Governor Fu was already serving wealthy women in his teens?”
“Were you even fully grown? Did you know the right positions? Could your frail body handle it?”
“Governor Fu must have had a tough few years back then, huh?”
“And that little girl kneeling beside you, wiping your blood—how many men has she been with?”
Fu Jinglan suddenly laughed. “Your mother.”
Better to turn him into a sieve.
If not for fear of frightening Shen Lingxi, he would have riddled him with bullets long ago.
Even if Bo Yuesheng hadn’t brought the surveillance footage, Fu Jinglan had already glimpsed two small figures standing on the hilltop from the corner of his eye while loading his gun.
At this moment, the flesh beneath the serpent tattoo coiled around his waist began to itch, and the ribs once broken by a blade throbbed with pain.
The combination of pain and itch was excruciating, piercing to the core.
Fu Jinglan took the matchbox, struck a match, and watched as the photograph gradually turned to ash.
Just as the flames were about to reach Xiaosi, he couldn’t bear it any longer.
This was her last image in this world.
Fu Jinglan extinguished the flames with his bare hand, placed the fragment bearing Xiaosi’s image into the safe, and locked it away alongside the longevity lock.
Then, he made a call.
“Execute all other related personnel, including the media contacts, regardless of gender.”
At this moment, Fu Jinglan’s abdomen felt so cold that even he shivered from it.
Yesterday, he observed vegetarianism and recited Buddhist scriptures; today, he reveled in slaughter.
Zhuang Tongtong should have strangled him back then.
This world is no good, and neither is he.
Fu Jinglan kept striking matches, the flickering flames making his eyes burn red.
Just then, a sweet yet plaintive voice called out, “Brother.”
Without waiting for Fu Jinglan’s permission, Shen Lingxi kicked off her shoes and, wearing only socks, padded quickly across the floor to the floor-to-ceiling window, throwing herself directly into his arms.
The force of her impact sent the armchair spinning halfway around.
Shen Lingxi’s cool cheek pressed tightly against Fu Jinglan’s exposed chest.
“Brother, I’m so sad that Lili has gone down the mountain. Thankfully, I still have you.”
Shen Lingxi wrapped her arms around Fu Jinglan’s waist, sniffling slightly. “Brother, hold me for a while, okay? I really need you.”
Instead of offering direct comfort, she made Fu Jinglan feel needed.
At first, Fu Jinglan said nothing, then he wrapped his arms around Shen Lingxi.
Without any hesitation, she curled her legs and knelt on his thighs.
Like a little frog clinging to Fu Jinglan.
“Hold me tighter, Brother.” The little frog nuzzled even deeper into his embrace. “I’m recharging. Please maintain close contact at all times.”
Holding Shen Lingxi like this, Fu Jinglan felt warmth gradually returning to his chest.
After a long while, he patted Shen Lingxi gently. “Asleep, hmm?”
Only then did Shen Lingxi lift her head, her hair tousled.
Her eyes flashed with alarm. “Don’t move, d-^^y, there’s a bug on you.”
Fu Jinglan really didn’t move. “I just took a shower, what bugs could there be?”
Shen Lingxi giggled, climbing further onto Fu Jinglan, wrapping her arms around his neck and nuzzling her little head into the crook of his neck.
Making sure her presence was fully felt.
Then she gasped dramatically, “Ah!”
“So it’s me, the little tagalong bug~”
Shen Lingxi tilted her face up, blinking as she watched Fu Jinglan’s expression.
He didn’t smile, his face still cold. “More like a tagalong rabbit, hopping all over the mountains. Get caught and you’ll just throw a tantrum.”
Shen Lingxi giggled, “If the rabbit’s following you, then you must be the fart.”
“Crude.” Fu Jinglan pushed Shen Lingxi down beneath him, his aura sharp with killing intent. “Go play by yourself, don’t bother me.”
“Hmm~ no.”
Shen Lingxi insisted on clinging to Fu Jinglan, pressing her cheek against his chest again.
At the same time, she stretched her small hand in front of Fu Jinglan’s face. “d-^^y Look, this is the back of my hand.”
Fu Jinglan: “Hmm, I’m not blind.”
Then, Shen Lingxi lifted her foot, wiggling her toes. “And this is the back of my foot.”
Mr. Cold Face: “Spit it out.”
Shen Lingxi knelt up, cupping Fu Jinglan’s face in her hands and giving it a squeeze.
“Ah, you’re my treasure.”