At eight o’clock in the sharp evening, Xia Zeyu walked into the backstage area of the fighting arena. After going through a brief warm-up routine, he stepped out to enter the ring unencumbered.
The reaction from the audience had long since shifted from initial skepticism to thunderous cheers; “2895” had officially become a household name within this circuit.
Watching that unblemished face displayed on the giant screen, Fu Dongyan curved his lips into a satisfied smile as he settled back onto the sofa and poured himself a glass of red wine.
Friends? Merely a convenient smoke screen.
Enticed by the bait of eight million yuan, Xia Zeyu dutifully put on a brilliantly flashy display of martial arts choreography. First, he executed a backward somersault to plant a kick straight onto his opponent’s chest, followed immediately by clamping his legs in a scissor-hold around the man’s neck and hurling the burly giant flying across the canvas. Before he even had a chance to throw a proper punch, his opponent was already knocked out cold.
As subsequent challengers stepped up, Xia Zeyu declined to finish them off swiftly as he usually did, instead deliberately leaving slight openings in his guard to showcase his striking and kicking skills.
The audience roared with excitement, convinced they were getting their money’s worth out of this match.
Yet Xia Zeyu felt precisely like a performing monkey trapped inside a cage, being toyed with by a crowd of sightseers.
Fine. For the sake of eight million, I’ll bite my tongue and bear it.
Tonight’s lineup of challengers was unusually crowded to a degree that felt rather abnormal. Even though his pockets were bulging with cash, Xia Zeyu couldn’t shake his growing irritation.
There was no doubt about it; Fu Dongyan was pulling the strings behind the scenes.
What was Fu Dongyan’s actual game here? Was he trying to beat him into a pulp so he’d never dare set foot in this arena again?
If he wanted him to quit, they could sit down and talk it out civilly what was the point of resorting to underhanded tactics?
An urge to pick up the phone and tear into Fu Dongyan flared within Xia Zeyu, but his rationality reined him in, whispering that he needed to hold his ground and keep his composure.
As tonight’s matches finally drew to a close, Xia Zeyu slung his duffel bag over his shoulder and readied himself to climb into his car, only to sense someone lunging up rapidly from behind. Reacting on sheer instinct, Xia Zeyu snapped his elbow backward, instantly eliciting a sharp wail of pain from the man trailing him.
That voice… Shen Congjin?
Whirling around, he caught sight of Shen Congjin clutching his stomach as he slowly doubled over onto the pavement.
“What are you doing here?” Xia Zeyu demanded with visible displeasure.
“I just… came to watch your match…”
“Oh? And how was it?”
“When on earth did you learn all these moves? Why didn’t you ever fight back against me before?”
“Because the old Xia Zeyu loved you.”
Shen Congjin froze visibly, slowly lifting his gaze to reveal a well of sorrow swirling deep within his eyes.
A sudden, sharp pang stabbed through Xia Zeyu’s chest once more. Will this bodily reaction from the original owner ever quit?
“Zeyu…”
“That’s all in the past now,” Xia Zeyu cut him off flatly. “The moment I knocked you out cold the other day, everything changed. The person standing here right now doesn’t hold a shred of affection for you.”
“Impossible. After all these years…”
“You still remember it’s been all these years? Then why did you cheat behind my back? Why treat me with such cruelty? Surely there were far better ways to resolve things, weren’t there?”
“Zeyu, even if our engagement is annulled, I still want to remain good friends with you.”
“I don’t,” Xia Zeyu rejected him ruthlessly. “Hearing you speak even a single word makes my skin crawl.”
“Zeyu!”
Seeing Xia Zeyu turn to leave, Shen Congjin lunged forward in desperation. Xia Zeyu initially intended to shove him away, but catching a glimpse of Fu Dongyan’s approaching silhouette out of the corner of his eye, he let his arms drop, allowing Shen Congjin to pull him into an embrace.
“Zeyu, it was all my fault. I’ve thought about things deeply these past few days all the damage inflicted on you and Tang Tang stemmed entirely from my actions. I want to make it up to you. Can’t you give me a single chance?”
What kind of bizarre script are they running now?
Oh right, almost forgot in the original text, after the original owner’s death, his father willingly handed over the original owner’s 10% equity stake to Shen Congjin alongside a chunk of managerial control just to keep ropes tied around Shen Congjin. The ultimate conclusion was the Xia enterprise getting devoured by the Shen Corporation, propelling the Shen empire to even greater heights.
Looks like someone finally rubbed two brain cells together and realized the original owner still possessed residual utilitarian value.
Not entirely brain-dead after all.
Remaining completely passive and silent, Xia Zeyu simply stood there while mentally counting down:
Three,
Two,
One.
Right on cue, a hand reached out to wrench Shen Congjin away, violently casting him aside. He crashed heavily onto the concrete, presenting a thoroughly bedraggled sight.
Fu Dongyan’s towering frame loomed from above, casting a shadow that briefly left Xia Zeyu feeling a minor shortage of oxygen.
As expected, oppressive authority is entirely tied to height.
Why? Why didn’t the original owner eat properly? Why couldn’t he grow to 188 centimeters? Why?!
With an icy, menacing register dripping with lethal threat, Fu Dongyan stated, “President Shen, I’ve already made it clear that he is my person now. Kindly refrain from harassing him ever again.”
“Who the hell do you think you are?!” Shen Congjin bellowed, refusing to concede defeat.
“I’ve heard those exact words from plenty of individuals before. My background indeed doesn’t measure up to yours; I’ve faced my fair share of condescension and cold disdain along the way, so one more won’t make a dent. However,” Fu Dongyan smoothly looped an arm around Xia Zeyu’s shoulders, pulling him snugly into his embrace, “I now possess the capability to protect my own people. If you truly wish to cross swords with me, feel free to try your luck.”
Shen Congjin pivoted his glare toward Xia Zeyu, who simply rolled his eyes in response and leaned his weight slightly closer against Fu Dongyan’s side.
A subtle stiffness rippled through Fu Dongyan’s frame at the motion.
“Zeyu, I’m coming over to the Xia estate for dinner tomorrow night. You must be there,” Shen Congjin declared.
“Sorry, I have another match scheduled tomorrow.”
“Are your matches more important than I am?”
“Naturally the matches are. Who the hell do you think you are?”
Shen Congjin choked, his jaw flapping soundlessly as he scrambled for a retort he couldn’t find.
Too lazy to waste further breath on him, Xia Zeyu lifted his chin to look at Fu Dongyan. “Did you drive here? Care for a ride back?”
“Alright.”
With that, the two pulled open opposite car doors, strapped themselves in, and Xia Zeyu slammed his foot down on the gas pedal, rocketing out of the space.
Only after clearing the underground parking garage did Xia Zeyu finally break the silence.
“President Fu, please stop utilizing these theatrical rescues to bail me out, alright? If word gets out, it reflects poorly on both of us.”
“I wasn’t bailing you out. I simply derived immense pleasure from watching Shen Congjin foam at the mouth with impotent rage while realizing he couldn’t do a damn thing to me.”
“Why hold such a deep grudge? Did he steal your lover away in a past life?”
“Far worse than that,” Fu Dongyan kept his eyes fixed on the road ahead, complex emotions churning within his gaze. “Because of him, I lost my life once.”
“What am I talking to right now, then? A wandering ghost?”
“Pretty much.”
Xia Zeyu chose to drop the line of questioning, knowing full well he wouldn’t squeeze a shred of genuine truth out of Fu Dongyan anyway.
Instead of dropping Fu Dongyan off at his own residence, he drove straight to the Xia family estate triggering the first flicker of genuine puzzlement across Fu Dongyan’s features.
“What are we doing here?”
“Didn’t you say you enjoy watching Shen Congjin eat humble pie? He’s coming over for dinner at my house tomorrow night. Imagine the expression on his face if he walks in and finds you sitting right here.”
“…I have a board meeting early tomorrow morning, and driving to my company from your place is over thirty kilometers.”
“Given the hour, you might as well crash at my place for the night.”
Xia Zeyu slammed his foot down on the brakes so violently that Fu Dongyan was nearly launched out of his seat. Before he could voice a complaint, Xia Zeyu scrambled out of the car, jogged around to the passenger side, and yanked the door open.
“President Fu, please step out.”
Fu Dongyan stared at him in silence for a beat before stepping out of the vehicle without a word.
He’s doing this on purpose.
Fu Dongyan could read it loud and clear Xia Zeyu was deliberately pushing his buttons, probing his bottom line.
Both of them were actively testing each other’s boundaries.
Xia Zeyu slammed the car door shut with unnecessary force, marched up to grab Fu Dongyan by the lapels of his suit jacket, and shoved him backward. His back slammed violently against the exterior car door with a resounding thud.
Fu Dongyan merely furrowed his brows, offering not a single sound of complaint.
“President Fu, those burly thugs who ambushed me yesterday evening—were they sent by you?” Xia Zeyu accused.
“Why on earth would I orchestrate something like that? You’re our arena’s golden goose; I have zero motive to harm you. Why aren’t you pointing that finger at Shen Congjin?”
“Those guys didn’t look like the type of thugs he has access to.”
“I literally just wired an eight-million-yuan bonus into your hands. Slandering me like this breaks my heart.”
Xia Zeyu’s aggressive stance instantly deflated by a notch.
Money can make even ghosts push millstones and the God of War is no exception.
Tugging his lapels free from Xia Zeyu’s grip, Fu Dongyan smoothed out his collar and assumed an air of tranquil composure. “Lead the way, let’s head inside your house.”
It was currently 3:30 AM, yet the Xia family villa blazed with glaring lights a deeply abnormal sign that gave Xia Zeyu pause before pushing open the main entrance.
The moment they stepped into the living room, his father slammed his palm down hard onto the coffee table and rocketed to his feet from the sofa.
“Xia Zeyu! Do you think money grows on trees?! Why on earth did you burn five million yuan to hire some nameless, B-list actress as an endorser?!”
“Dad, who knows, maybe he’s got something going on with that woman on the side,” Xia Zexing chimed in eagerly to fan the flames.
“Absurd! Your past stunts were disgraceful enough, and now you’re entangled with female celebrities? Where are we supposed to put the Xia family’s face?!”
Before the tirade could continue, Fu Dongyan strolled leisurely into the entryway, instantly plunging the entire room into absolute silence.
“Are there any slippers that actually fit?” Xia Zeyu asked.
“None available. Just make do.”
“Guess I don’t have spare pajamas lying around either… my carelessness.”
“No worries, I’ll just rest for a bit and head straight to the office at dawn.”
“Sorry to put you through this. You can sleep in my bedroom; the guest room hasn’t been tidied up in ages.”
“Alright.”
Watching the two converse with such seamless naturalness, the father and older brother stood frozen, utterly at a loss for how to wedge themselves into the exchange. Fu Dongyan had treated them like transparent air from the second he stepped through the door, refusing to grant them a single glance.
Following Xia Zeyu down the corridor into his bedroom, Fu Dongyan came to an abrupt halt the moment he crossed the threshold.
Xia Zeyu’s bedroom was glaringly spartan—four plain white walls completely devoid of decorative accents, a solitary white ceiling fixture, bearing zero resemblance to the opulent, palatial interior styling of the rest of the mansion. The bed measured roughly one hundred and fifty centimeters wide, the wardrobe barely spanned a meter, a tiny writing desk stood completely devoid of drawers, and layers of gray dust coated the venetian blinds covering the window.
“The room is a bit cramped, President Fu. You’ll just have to make do for the night,” Xia Zeyu said.
“The second young master of the Xia family lives here? Even domestic helper quarters are better appointed than this.”
“They aren’t particularly fond of me, so they assigned me to the room furthest away from theirs.”
“Why aren’t they fond of you?”
“Probably because I’m the one who caused my mother’s death.”
Offering a self-deprecating shrug, Xia Zeyu smoothed down the pillow, gave the blanket a quick shake, and turned toward the door.
“Where are you sleeping?” Fu Dongyan asked.
“I have my own arrangements.”
Pushing the door open, Xia Zeyu stepped out and pulled it shut with practiced speed, denying Fu Dongyan any further opportunity to probe.
Clicking off the light switch, Fu Dongyan walked to the center of the dark room, closed his eyes, and began channeling his internal energy.
Three seconds later, pale azure motes of light flickered into existence around him, swirling like fireflies—the faint radiance just bright enough to illuminate the confined space.
Two minutes elapsed. The glow dissipated entirely.
Zero anomalous energy residue detected.
Strange. If Xia Zeyu actually sleeps in this room every single night, it’s virtually impossible for zero traces to linger.
Either he maintains a separate hideout elsewhere, or his supernatural tier runs high enough to completely suppress his aura.
Reseating himself on the edge of the bed, Fu Dongyan experienced a rare wave of suffocating frustration.
Did I actually run into a genuine, equal-level competitor in this timeline?
At this precise timestamp in the original timeline, Xia Zeyu ought to have been buried underground weeks ago. So who exactly was this current “Xia Zeyu”?
“System,” Fu Dongyan pitched his voice into a low murmur, “are you entirely certain Xia Zeyu is completely normal?”
[Host, our monitoring metrics indicate zero abnormalities regarding Xia Zeyu.]
The chilling mechanical timbre echoed inside his skull, audible exclusively to Fu Dongyan.
“Is there any possibility he underwent transmigration like I did?”
[Negative. You are currently the sole transmigrated entity originating outside this world.]
“Then why is a character destined to perish over a month ago still skipping around alive? And why does he act like a completely different person?”
[That remains unverified, but your own transmigration has already triggered a butterfly effect, heavily altering the trajectories of numerous events. Such anomalies are within acceptable parameters of divergence.]
Massaging his temples, Fu Dongyan felt a migraine throbbing behind his eyes.
[Host, I strongly advise against investing excessive attention into Xia Zeyu. He is fundamentally a character with zero causal entanglement to your primary mission. Your top priority remains defeating Shen Congjin within the allotted timeframe; otherwise, you risk being swallowed whole by his protagonist halo, repeating the tragic outcome of your past life.]
“I’m well aware of all that.”
Ruffling his hair in mounting irritation, Fu Dongyan pulled out his phone, stared at the lock-screen photograph of himself alongside his mother and younger sister, and felt a heavy ache twist in his chest.
In this lifetime, he would bleed out every drop of strength he possessed to protect them, ensuring they never suffered so much as a scratch again.