The moment she heard that husky, vaguely familiar voice,
Tong Xi blanked out for an instant.
That night came rushing back from memory, catching her completely off guard.
She quickly snapped back to her senses, a thin layer of sweat already seeping through her back.
Right now, her clothes hung wide open, the left side of her collar completely undone, and Fu Jingxi’s little head was nuzzling against her chest.
That gaze from behind pressed heavily on her back.
She gathered her collar, her fingers trembling badly, unable to fasten the buttons no matter how she tried.
Fu Jingxi, startled, whimpered and was about to cry. She hurriedly cradled him close and hastily pulled her shirt together.
Only then did she slowly turn around.
Fu Yanqin stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, no telling how long he’d been standing there, his tall shadow stretching a dark patch across the floor.
He wore a dark gray silk robe, the belt loosely tied, the collar slightly open, revealing a sharp line of his collarbone.
Some people, by their mere existence, are enough to make the air grow thin.
Fu Yanqin was undoubtedly that kind of person.
He was extremely tall, with broad shoulders and back. Standing there, he was a sight impossible to ignore.
His skin was a cool-toned white, his nose bridge arrogantly high, his thin lips pressed together, the corners of his mouth naturally turned slightly downward—when he didn’t smile, there was a certain cold indifference to him.
Most lethal were those eyes—the outer corners slightly upturned, the pupils extremely dark. When he looked at you, you felt you could neither break free nor escape.
Undeniably, Fu Yanqin was handsome—which only made the cold, fierce aura around him seem all the more contradictory.
But anyone who knew him understood that this exterior was nothing but a deceptive shell.
When Fu Yanqin’s name came up in business circles, no one didn’t feel a chill. He never showed mercy when swallowing up rivals, his methods ruthless and decisive. In just a few short years, he had multiplied the Fu Corporation’s market value several times over.
Rumors even circulated in their circles that his birth chart was too hard, which was why he was still alone at thirty.
Some said he kept his distance from women—perhaps he was more interested in men…
Tong Xi had heard these rumors plenty of times and had always treated them as jokes.
But now she knew better than anyone just how absurd those rumors about him keeping his distance from women really were.
Because she had seen him at his most undignified—in bed.
Fu Yanqin stood in place, his gaze slowly sliding down from her face, sweeping over her disheveled collar.
After a few seconds, he spoke again:
“Who let you in?”
Tong Xi’s throat tightened. She didn’t dare look at him:
“Mr. Fu… I’m the new nanny. The old madam sent me to feed the young master.”
After a few breaths, Fu Yanqin tilted his head to glance at Fu Jingxi, who had quieted down in her arms. His expression remained cold.
“Where’s Sister Zhou?”
“She said to let me feed him and get the young master to sleep, then I could go out first.”
She didn’t dare say another word.
Her face was fake, her identity was fake, her name was fake.
Fu Yanqin had always been sharp at reading people. One slip, and she wouldn’t make it out that door.
He looked at her again, then suddenly strode toward her. Tong Xi’s blood ran cold. She held the child tighter.
He walked up to her, looking down at her from his height. “Lift your head.”
She gritted her teeth and slowly raised her head.
Those eyes were too deep, too heavy. She had once been stripped bare by him, without a single inch of cover.
Tong Xi smiled calmly:
“What is it, Mr. Fu?”
Fu Jingxi suddenly let out a milky burp, squirmed in her arms, clutched her collar, smacked his lips, and fell back into a deep sleep.
Only then did Fu Yanqin glance at his son, straighten up, and step back:
“Get out once you’re done feeding him. From now on, knock before you come in.”
She felt as if granted a great pardon, nodding repeatedly: “Yes, Mr. Fu.”
She stood up, holding the child securely, and carefully placed him back in the crib. She tucked the blanket corners in and nuzzled his cheek.
The little one slept deeply after his milk, his tiny mouth slightly pouty, a bit of milk stain at the corner of his lips.
She took a tissue and wiped her son’s face.
Once he was settled, she straightened up and quickly headed for the door. As she passed Fu Yanqin, she didn’t dare pause for even a step.
Sister Zhou was keeping watch outside in the corridor. Seeing Tong Xi come out, she stepped forward two paces and asked in a low voice:
“Is the young master settled?”
Tong Xi nodded. “Asleep. Sleeping deeply.”
Sister Zhou gave an “mm” and cast a vague glance behind her. Just as she was about to say something,
Tong Xi quietly added:
“Mr. Fu is inside.”
Sister Zhou was startled, then remembered that Fu Yanqin had worked overtime until the early hours and had only returned then. This morning he was probably catching up on sleep in the small sitting room next door—she hadn’t known when he’d woken up.
She slapped her forehead, her tone vexed:
“My fault. I didn’t explain things clearly to you in advance. The master’s schedule is irregular. When the young master was fussing, he would sometimes go over to take a look…”
Halfway through, Sister Zhou’s gaze suddenly fixed on Tong Xi.
Tong Xi followed her line of sight downward, and her face instantly flushed red.
In her earlier panic to button up, her fingertips had trembled so badly that the top two buttons hadn’t been fastened at all.
Her shirt hung wide open, her light-colored undergarment half-exposed, a large expanse of snowy skin below her collarbone left bare to the air,
and there was even a small patch on her chest dampened by milk stains.
Sister Zhou’s expression turned serious. She tugged Tong Xi’s collar straight for her, her voice lowering but carrying a measured tone:
“Miss Xi, I know you’re young and pretty, but the Fu family is not like other places. The master is the master, and we are the help. Some thoughts must not be entertained.”
Tong Xi’s ears burned crimson. Her fingers trembled as she buttoned up one by one:
“Sister Zhou, I didn’t…”
Sister Zhou glanced at her, saw her so embarrassed that her eyes had reddened, and ultimately said no more. She only patted her arm:
“All right, go on down. For convenience in caring for the young master, your sleeping room is the third one on the left.”
Sister Zhou pointed. Tong Xi nodded with downcast eyes, but her heart was pounding.
She thought of the way Fu Yanqin had looked down at her from above just now.
Whatever state she’d been in, he had likely seen it all.
She remembered that night of the accident, something Fu Yanqin had said while pressing her against the headboard—that she was a little fox.
Just that once, yet it was seared into her bones.
Would he think her frivolous, assume she’d done it on purpose—deliberately let her collar hang loose to expose her charms?
With no time to ponder, Tong Xi hastily lowered her eyes, nodded twice at random, and turned to walk to her room.
Sister Zhou’s gaze rested meaningfully on that fleeing figure. At the sight, she actually curved her lips and shook her head slightly.
She thought to herself that she’d truly seen too many women who climbed up using their bodies—now she saw seduction of Mr. Fu in everyone.
But from what she’d seen so far, this Tong Xi really didn’t seem like someone with tricks up her sleeve.
…
In the main building, the door curtain rustled as Fu Yanqin entered.
He had already changed clothes—a dark shirt buttoned to the very top, cuffs fastened tight.
He sat down across from Mrs. Fu, long legs slightly apart, and leaned back against the chair.
“Jingxi is asleep?”
Mrs. Fu asked.
“Mm.”
“Have you seen the new nanny?”
Fu Yanqin poured a cup of tea and said unhurriedly, “I’ve seen her.”
Mrs. Fu raised her eyes to look at him. “How is she?”
Fu Yanqin didn’t answer, his slender fingers resting on the armrest.
Mrs. Fu went on speaking on her own:
“Sister Zhou said that girl has plenty of milk. Jingxi didn’t fuss at all in her arms and nursed well, so let’s keep her.”
Fu Yanqin’s brow bone moved slightly, but his face still showed no expression.
Mrs. Fu glanced at him and sighed.
“Yanqin, you are the eldest son of the Fu family. You know clearly how your father taught you since you were young.
Tell me the truth. That woman from that night—have you ever looked for her? You’re thirty now. It’s time to get married.”
Fu Yanqin was silent for a few breaths, his thin lips pressing slightly tighter. “No, I haven’t.”
“Why not? Our family doesn’t care about social status. Even if she’s an ordinary girl, as long as you’re willing to marry, your father and I will support you.”
He raised his eyes, a faint layer of weariness floating in their depths.
“Even if I found her, so what? We slept together for one night, and I’d keep her by my side, make her bear my child, and then leave her as an ornament? There’s no affection. Why marry?”
Mrs. Fu shot him a sidelong glance, fished a neatly folded piece of paper from her sleeve, and pushed it onto the table.
“When you were poisoned at eighteen, do you still remember what the old Chinese doctor said?”
Fu Yanqin’s gaze fell on the paper, and his brows furrowed slightly.
“He said what you were poisoned with was a Love Gu, and there is no antidote. In this lifetime, you can only react to one person. Who that person is—your fate has its own plan. If you have relations with her…”
Mrs. Fu paused, her tone growing heavier.
“Afterward, your desire for her will only grow stronger. You won’t be able to quit her, nor suppress it.”
Fu Yanqin’s eyes darkened.