The moment Shao Kunye appeared, Jiang Songde and Fan Xuezhen’s expressions changed.
Jiang Tinglu panicked even more. “Shao… Young Master Shao?”
Shao Kunye glanced at Wen Xi on the ground. Her clothes were disheveled, the neckline torn, exposing large swaths of pale collarbone. Her bra straps were broken, hanging loosely.
His eyes darkened, and a trace of coldness surfaced.
His gaze lifted to meet her fearful, helpless eyes. Wen Xi stared at him, and tears immediately welled up.
Like a small animal struggling to survive in a flood suddenly rescued onto dry land, fractured sobs escaped her throat.
Jiang Songde instinctively stepped in front of Wen Xi, trying to block Shao Kunye’s view. “Young Master Shao, why are you here?”
Shao Kunye held a cigarette between his lips. “President Jiang, you took my person. Should I not come?”
Jiang Songde shivered at the icy look in his eyes and nervously said, “Young Master Shao, you misunderstand. We just wanted to ask Wen Xi some questions, that’s why we brought her here.”
“Ask questions?” Shao Kunye sneered. “Using a man’s J/B to ask? First time I’ve seen that.”
A cold shiver rose from Jiang Songde’s feet, as if a snake had brushed against his neck.
Shao Kunye stepped toward Wen Xi. Jiang Tinglu instinctively moved to stop him, but Han Tao suddenly drew his gun, pointing it at her head.
“Don’t!”
Jiang Songde shouted urgently, cold sweat rolling down his forehead.
Jiang Tinglu froze in place, paralyzed, watching helplessly as Shao Kunye reached Wen Xi.
He extended his hand from above. “Get up.”
Backlit, imposing and aggressive, his silhouette loomed over her. Wen Xi’s eyes reddened little by little as she slowly placed her hand in his.
Shao Kunye then noticed how cold her hands were, damp with sweat.
Frightened, Wen Xi tried several times to stand but fell back each time, her legs weak.
Losing patience, Shao Kunye scooped her up horizontally.
Wen Xi carefully wrapped her arms around his neck, trembling. Her eyes were red at the corners. “You… why are you here?”
Shao Kunye snorted coldly. “Wasn’t it your good boy who tattled? Said you went to buy groceries and still hadn’t returned after six hours.”
It was hard to tell whether Wen Xi had been smart or foolish to leave Wen Liyang alone at home.
If Wen Liyang hadn’t gone to Han Tao, perhaps no one would have noticed if both of them had disappeared.
Her neckline had been torn, exposing large patches of fair skin. Shao Kunye reached for the coat, and Han Tao immediately handed it over.
The warm, faintly tobacco-scented coat covered her, easing the biting cold. Wen Xi instinctively curled into a ball, gripping Shao Kunye’s coat tightly, afraid he might drop her.
Up close, Shao Kunye noticed her cheeks were swollen and red—clearly beaten.
Coldness flashed across his eyes.
Jiang Tinglu noticed his gaze, her scalp tingling. With Han Tao’s gun at her head, she dared not move.
Jiang Songde flustered. “Young Master Shao, let me explain! Things aren’t what you think—those men are Wen Xi’s old flames!”
Shao Kunye’s arrival to rescue Wen Xi had taken him by surprise. Since when had their relationship been so close?
Before Jiang Songde finished, Wen Xi shook her head frantically from his arms.
Fearful that Shao Kunye would believe otherwise, her eyes glossy, she hurriedly said, “No, I don’t know them. Uncle Jiang forced me about the chip. I said I didn’t know, and that’s why they did this…”
Even if she hadn’t explained, Shao Kunye wouldn’t have believed it.
Wen Xi, who hadn’t even kissed anyone, having old flames? Not even ghosts would believe it.
Shao Kunye looked at Jiang Songde. “Since Miss Jiang is so generous with her treatment of her, I can’t be stingy, can I?”
Jiang Songde had a bad feeling. The next moment, he saw Han Tao’s gun shift from Jiang Tinglu’s head to the men who had assaulted Wen Xi earlier.
“Treat Wen Xi exactly as Miss Jiang allowed. Whoever misbehaves, I’ll personally shoot.” Shao Kunye smiled faintly.
A gunshot rang out above, the bullet piercing the roof.
The men hesitated but quickly chose survival over hesitation.
Jiang Tinglu’s eyes widened in terror. Before she could react, she was pinned to the ground.
“No!”
“Dad! Mom! Help me!”
Jiang Songde and Fan Xuezhen were forced to watch as the men, originally hired to violate Wen Xi, pinned Jiang Tinglu, tearing her clothes apart with savage force like hyenas devouring a lone animal.
“No!”
“Let go of my daughter!”
Both screamed nearly to the breaking point, helplessly watching Jiang Tinglu being violated, her cries of pain filling the factory.
The factory echoed with unbearable collision sounds.
“Shao Kunye!” Jiang Songde roared in fury. “How can you treat my daughter like this!”
Shao Kunye remained calm. “I only had some questions for your daughter, President Jiang. No need to rush.”
This was exactly what Jiang Songde had said to block Shao Kunye earlier—now returned in full.
Jiang Songde’s eyes were bloodshot. Fan Xuezhen had fainted from shock.
Shao Kunye watched coldly.
Other people’s daughters could be ruined with impunity; when it was his own, he couldn’t bear it.
It was true—one doesn’t feel the pain until it strikes oneself.
He glanced at Wen Xi, who trembled violently in his arms, unable to meet anyone’s gaze. Her courage was as small as a mouse’s.
The Jiang Family nearly killed her; in his place, he would have relished the scene.
But seeing her so frightened, one more shock might make her faint. Shao Kunye did not force her.
Even with her eyes covered, the screams and collisions reached her ears. Wen Xi quietly pulled down the coat, glancing at the brutal scene not far off.
Bloody, savage—like a horror movie.
In the flickering light, no one noticed the small curve of a smile at the corner of Wen Xi’s lips, fleeting as if an illusion.
Eventually, the commotion subsided. Jiang Tinglu lay motionless like a broken ragdoll, clothes in tatters, eyes hollow and dead.
Shao Kunye clapped lightly. “As expected from people Miss Jiang hired. Excellent.”
Jiang Songde’s face contorted in pain, staring at the ruined Jiang Tinglu, wishing he could kill Shao Kunye.
Han Tao asked, “Young Master Shao, what should we do with Jiang Songde and Fan Xuezhen?”
Shao Kunye recalled Wen Xi’s earlier words, raising an eyebrow. “President Jiang is valuable. Take them back and lock them up.”
“And them?” Han Tao asked, glancing at the men who tried to assault Wen Xi.
“Chop off their hands.”
With that, Shao Kunye carried Wen Xi away.
Back in the car, she still clutched his collar, not daring to let go for a moment.
“How long do you plan to hold on?” Shao Kunye asked coldly.
Wen Xi remained silent but hugged him tighter, her soft body pressed closer—like an impossibly clingy cat.
Shao Kunye noticed how much she was trembling. He looked at her clothes: the top was torn, but the pants were intact. The men hadn’t gotten the chance to do more.
He removed the coat covering her, revealing her small, pale face streaked with tears.
Wen Xi’s lashes were wet, eyes glistening, tears threatening to fall. Her lips were red. Her innocent, unworldly appearance easily stirred a man’s desire to dominate.
Shao Kunye’s breathing deepened slightly.
If he hadn’t come today, Wen Xi would have been destroyed here.