Chapter Sixteen

“Do you really think that, in my heart, money matters more than my parents and my family?”
Fu Chen’s hand gripped Shen Huaijing’s neck. She forced down her fear, her luminous eyes fixed on him, but their brilliance was frosted with ice.

Fu Chen sensed a faint dampness against his palm—perhaps the woman before him was so tense she’d begun to sweat. He withdrew his hand hastily.

“Shen Huaijing, do you really think you’re in any position to negotiate with me over this?” He moved her aside, rose, and fetched a tissue to wipe his hand clean, his movements tinged with disdain.

Shen Huaijing’s heart fluttered uncertainly. She, too, wanted to maximize her own interests—clearly, what Fu Chen could offer far surpassed the Shen family’s resources. But if this was merely a trap set by Fu Chen, or if her family turned against her in outrage, she would be utterly ruined.

“Can’t you help me—just this once—because we’re husband and wife?” Shen Huaijing slumped into the sofa, pleading.

A phone buzzed. Fu Chen answered, his gaze turning somber as he paced to the window. His eyes fell on the white roses blooming in the garden below, and for a long while, he was silent.

A vague sense of dread crept into Shen Huaijing’s heart. Suddenly, a dull ache began to throb at her temples, and her delicate brows knitted in distress.

“There’s nothing to discuss. I have to go out for a bit. You should try to rest early.” Fu Chen hung up and hurried out.

At the top floor of the W Hotel.

Lin Yu was sweating with anxiety, his damp hair clinging to his forehead as he knocked repeatedly at a hotel room door. “Yiqing! Fu Chen is here. Open the door, please! You haven’t eaten all day—this can’t go on.”

Fu Chen signaled for Lin Yu to stop. “Yiqing, it’s me. Open up.”

The door opened instantly.

Lin Yiqing’s dark eyes shimmered with tears, like wild grapes glistening with dew, a look of startled joy lighting her face.

“Ah Chen! I thought you wouldn’t come!” The petite woman threw herself into Fu Chen’s arms.

Lin Yu watched the scene, a bitter smile curving his lips. He quietly turned to leave, but Fu Chen caught his shoulder, his deep gaze holding Lin Yu in place.

Gently, Fu Chen eased the woman from his embrace. There was something unfathomable stirring in his eyes. “Yiqing, I’m married now. This isn’t good for either of us.”

Lin Yiqing froze, stubbornly wiping her tears away. “Alright, I understand. I’m the one causing trouble for you—it won’t happen again.” Her voice was hoarse, evidence she’d been crying for a long time.

“Let Lin Yu stay and look after you,” Fu Chen said, meeting Lin Yu’s hopeful eyes. At this, Lin Yu managed a grateful smile.

“No need. I can take care of myself. You both can go.” Lin Yiqing’s words were crisp and final. She slammed the door with force.

The two men stood awkwardly outside. As soon as the door closed, Lin Yu wanted to knock again, but Fu Chen stopped him, pulling him aside.

“Why didn’t you ask hotel staff for a key card? What if your knocking disturbed other guests?” Fu Chen sighed with exasperation.

Lin Yu’s gaze remained fixed on the closed door, his tone distracted. “I’ve booked this entire floor long-term—no one else stays here, not even staff. But mostly, I was afraid that if someone opened the door, Yiqing would be angry.”

“So you called me? Didn’t I tell you last time that you should take care of Yiqing?” Fu Chen’s expression clouded, as if restraining a surge of anger.

Lin Yu, seeing Fu Chen’s aloof indifference, suddenly bristled with fury. He grabbed Fu Chen’s collar and hissed, “Fu Chen! Do you think I wanted to call you? If Yiqing didn’t care about you, would I have? What’s going on with you now? Have you fallen for Shen Huaijing?”

Fu Chen’s face darkened, rage flashing in his black eyes, veins bulging at his temples. “Lin Yu! Do you think I wanted to marry Shen Huaijing? Don’t you know how I ended up like this? Do you want to see me lose everything?”

At those words, Lin Yu’s grip faltered and slid from Fu Chen’s collar, his anger deflating. “I was just too anxious.”

“Don’t let Yiqing come looking for me again. Old Master Fu is already suspicious. If I see her once more, losing a month’s work will be the least of it.” Fu Chen’s tone was low. “Keep pressuring the Shen Group. I must get those shares. And as for our useful pawn, Shen Huaijing—she’ll soon be drawn into the game.”

Lin Yu nodded gravely.

Fu Chen smoothed his collar, regaining his usual urbane composure, and left the hotel without another word.

From a crack in the door, a pair of wide eyes watched Fu Chen’s departing figure.

“Ah Chen, I know you’re not free to act as you wish. As long as you still care for me, that’s enough. I’ll bring you back to my side,” Lin Yiqing vowed silently, her hands clenched tightly around her dress.

At home, Shen Huaijing tossed and turned, unable to sleep. So many things clung to her like vines, suffocating her, making it hard to breathe.

Her phone rang. She picked up, and Yu Yunxi’s anxious voice came through. “President Shen, there’s something I must tell you.”

Shen Huaijing’s reply was faint. “Go ahead.”

“I just saw the news about the Shen Group in the Southern City Daily. There wasn’t even a hint of this beforehand. I have contacts at the paper and asked around—no one there knew either. Someone must have sold them an exclusive, trying to catch us off guard. Have you seen the Shen Group’s stock price? It already hit its limit down before tonight’s close.”

Yu Yunxi’s report was calm and precise, but each word struck Shen Huaijing like a thunderclap.

The Shen Group would never court disaster of its own accord. And only senior executives would have known about this. Who stood to gain the most? No one but Fu Chen.

Suddenly, as if struck by realization, Shen Huaijing said, “Alright. Thank you for telling me. I’ll hang up now—let’s meet tomorrow if there’s time.”

She ended the call abruptly, not even bothering with slippers as she dashed downstairs and began rummaging frantically in the living room.

“Aunt Feng! Where does Fu Chen keep his newspapers?” she shouted as she searched.

“Usually in the drawer next to the TV console,” Aunt Feng replied, uncertain.

Shen Huaijing yanked the drawer open. Right on top was the very paper Fu Chen had been reading that morning. The headline blared: “Shen Group in Financial Crisis—Will Fu Corporation Intervene?”

A bitter smile twisted Shen Huaijing’s lips—how foolish she’d been, played for a fool by Fu Chen, even begging him for help. She had overestimated herself.

“Well? Do you still think the Shen family is in any position to negotiate with me?” A deep, magnetic voice, laced with mocking coldness, spoke behind her.

The sound of his voice made Shen Huaijing shiver.

“You set this up from the beginning, didn’t you? Just waiting for me to step right into your snare. When I begged you today, you must have thought I was a clown,” she said, standing barefoot on the marble tiles, the chill seeping up through her body.

Fu Chen strolled to her side, leaning down to rest his chin on her shoulder, his lazy voice whispering into her ear, “And your choice? My lady?”