President Fu Chenyu asked urgently, "Younger Uncle, what are you doing?"
Fu Shiyan took out a wooden stick from the rectangular box of golden nanmu held by Nanny Zhang, "You deserve a beating." Fu Chenyu's face changed immediately; he had experienced the power of this stick ever since he was a child, "Younger Uncle, don't do this, let's talk. If I did something wrong, can't I change?"
Fu Shiyan walked up to Fu Chenyu, towering half a head above him with his height of one meter and ninety-two, and sneered lightly, "You see Miss An Yan changed her appearance, so you want to eat your words again?"
That was indeed what Fu Chenyu thought, but he couldn't say it, "Of course not, I just feel that she's quite pitiful."
The wooden stick suddenly landed on Fu Chenyu.
"This stick is for your treachery!"
"This stick is because you contemplate taking a life!"
"This stick is for your filthy thoughts!"
...
Fu Chenyu fell to his knees in pain, as Fu Shiyan raised the stick and kept beating him relentlessly on his back, one blow after another, without holding back.
He clenched his teeth, veins bulging on his forehead, a cold sweat soaked through his shirt, and his back was burning with pain. Zhou Yi felt a bit of pity, but also thought that Fu Chenyu had indeed gone too far this time, she shook her head and helped Fu Haichuan back to his room.
Not until Fu Chenyu was beaten to the ground did Fu Shiyan stop.
He put the stick back into the box, "Don't provoke An Yan again in the future. Since you have chosen An Yirou, stick with her." After saying that, he turned and went upstairs.
After taking a shower, Fu Shiyan came out dressed in a bathrobe.
He wiped his jet-black hair with a dry towel, the slightly long fringe hiding his deep-set eyes, diminishing somewhat the fierceness.
He glanced at the messages on his phone from an unknown number.
: Younger Uncle, have you made it home?
: Younger Uncle, does your wound hurt?
: Younger Uncle, I've added you on WeChat, remember to accept!
: Younger Uncle, remember to apply the ointment!
Sitting in the bamboo chair in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, Fu Shiyan threw his phone onto the round table beside him, tapped out a cigarette from the box, flicked open the lighter, and the crimson flame ignited.
Amidst the swirling smoke, the man's peach-blossom eyes were dark and inscrutable.
He let the incessant messages flood in until the last one froze at midnight. Fu Shiyan picked up the phone to see, An Yan had sent a total of nine messages.
She seemed very concerned about him, his gaze lingered on the last message: Younger Uncle, good night.
He opened WeChat, accepted An Yan's friend request, and replied with a message: Good night.
The corners of his lips curled up imperceptibly, he had unexpectedly gained a niece out of the blue.
The image of the girl's body sprawled on the ground, her fair skin and those moist eyes, entered his mind unbidden.
The slight uplift at the corners of his lips quickly disappeared, his fingertips extinguished the cigarette butt and tossed it into the ashtray.
He had not expected that this girl could so easily stir that primal desire within him. He pressed at his brow, reminding himself to keep his distance from An Yan.
In the special care ward.
An Yan lay on the bed, swinging her legs back and forth. She saw her sent text messages sink like stones in the sea, and there was also no new friend accepted notification on WeChat, her heart filling with lament.
Could it be that she frightened him with her brazenness last night?
Impossible!
If he was really scared, he wouldn't have come back personally to bring her food.
The thoughts of an old man are indeed hard to guess!
It seems the road to chasing her husband is long and arduous!
Just as she was in despair, she discovered she had become friends with someone named fsy and had received two simple words: Good night.
An Yan was so excited she could almost fly. She kept gazing at that starry profile picture, her lips curled in a smile that stayed lifted. The next morning.
Just after An Yan had finished washing up, a knock sounded on the door.
She opened the door, only to see Han Yang presenting a smile as he handed over a bag from Ding Shang Fine Cuisine.
"Miss An Yan, President Fu asked me to bring you breakfast, and lunch will arrive around noon. I'll come in the afternoon to assist with your discharge procedures."
An Yan took the bag and smiled her thanks.
Just as she was about to close the door, a large palm pressed against it.
Father An Zaili and stepmother Du Xinlan strutted in with their noses in the air.
An Yan's exquisite little face instantly darkened.
"An Yan, how are you feeling?" An Zaili made warm inquiries.
"Lucky to be alive, I didn't die." An Yan couldn't bother to deal with them, heading towards the hospital bed to place the bag on the table. Du Xinlan was dressed in a champagne-colored cheongsam, her hair meticulously coiffed into a bun and holding an AY clutch in her hand, looking like she had dressed up specifically for the hospital visit.
Seeing An Yan's strikingly beautiful face filled her with deep disgust.
Why should this country bumpkin be prettier than her own daughter?
She didn't bother with niceties, sitting down directly on the chair, "You deliberately scalded Yirou's face, but I won't hold it against you. However, I warn you, Chenyu has Yirou in his heart, so you better stop clinging to him." An Yan snorted, "You know your own daughter. If you know why I splashed water on her, it's because she played the same old tricks with me. If she provokes me again, I can't guarantee I won't do something even more dreadful. As for that Fu Chenyu, I'm not a septic tank, I don't take in shit."
Du Xinlan didn't expect the usually docile little bitch to talk back so sharp-tongued now, indeed, just as Yirou had said, she really turned the world upside down!
She clenched her teeth, "So you're implying Yirou is a septic tank?"
"Hmm, those were your words," An Yan said nonchalantly with a laugh, "But when the Fu Family agreed to the marriage alliance with the An Family, it was on account of my grandfather taking a bullet for Old Master Fu. Old Master Fu specifically designated that I, An Yan, marry Fu Chenyu. Even though An Yirou joined the An Family with Auntie Du and took the An surname, she's not a true member of the An Family. Would Old Master Fu agree to that?"
Du Xinlan's fingernails dug deep into her clutch, An Yan had indeed infuriated her, "Chenyu and Yirou are already together, so the Fu Family has to accept this marriage. Anyway, it's none of your concern now."
An Zaili laughed, "An Yan, there are many other wealthy families in Jiangcheng, Dad will find you an even better match in the future."
An Yan let out a light chuckle, "It seems the next time the An Family is on the brink of bankruptcy, I'll be useful again." An Zaili: "..."
Du Xinlan snorted coldly, "Being able to contribute to the An Family, you should feel honored! You ungrateful creature, it's rare that your father cares for you so much!"
"Cares for me?" An Yan scoffed, "Then why did he visit the hospital last night to see An Yirou, but not me?"
Du Xinlan choked, "Yirou is the one your father watched grow up! After all these years, you haven't been by his side, what do you expect?"
An Yan laughed out loud, "Someone who doesn't know might think An Yirou is Mr. An's own flesh and blood!"
An Zaili's face tensed.
An Yan blinked, "Don't tell me I've spoken the truth? If An Yirou and I are the same age and if she really is related by blood to Mr. An, wouldn't that mean Mr. An committed bigamy back then?"
"Stop talking nonsense! Do you have no upbringing, always talking about Mr. An like this!"
An Yan's voice was cold, "You teach others how to treat you. The way I am now should give you something to reflect on!"
Du Xinlan was so furious she nearly crushed her silver teeth; she abruptly stood up and dragged An Zaili toward the door. At the threshold, she turned back and said, "Smoky makeup and colored hair would suit you better!"
Outside the door, Han Yang heard everything.
After leaving the hospital and getting into his car, he fastened his seatbelt and started the vehicle, merging into the traffic.
"President Fu," he glanced in the rearview mirror.
The man in the back seat, his focus on the documents in his hand, his slender fingers circling and marking with a pen.
The morning sun enveloped him, casting a golden glow as if he was an ethereal deity. His voice was lazy, "Go ahead."
"Just now, Miss An Yan's father and stepmother went to see her."
"Hmm."
"They said many unpleasant things, realizing they've known for a while that Young Master Fu and the second Miss of the An Family are together. That stepmother also said smoky makeup and colored hair would be more fitting for Miss An Yan."
The pen paused for a moment, Fu Shiyan's expression remained impassive, and then he continued reading the document, "No need to tell me about such things in the future."
Han Yang wondered if he had misinterpreted the situation?
Had Fu Shiyan risked his life saving An Yan really just to prevent a tragedy? This cold-hearted man, who showed no emotion even when signing multi-billion dollar deals, the tension while rescuing her last night and the relief of survival after the rescue, was that all just his imagination?
Han Yang pursed his lips and said no more, not wishing to end up in the HR department for a settlement.