Chapter 69: Suffering of One’s Own Making

Hu Zhinan’s gaze was dark and intense, noting the obvious fright on Liang Jinshang’s face. The smug curve at his lips faded away.

“Oh dear, I’m so sorry, Miss Fang. Your dress is dirty. Why don’t I accompany you to the lounge to tidy up?” His voice oozed with ill intent, and the loaded emphasis he put on “Miss Fang” left no room for misinterpretation.

Liang Jinshang quickly turned, but Zhao Jingyu had already left with Gong Xueyuan, disappearing into the distance.

There was no reason to call out and cause a scene now. Hu Zhinan wouldn’t dare make a move in public, after all.

Liang Jinshang grabbed a passing server and asked her to find a room where she could fix her dress.

She was cautious, and once inside, she texted Zhao Jingyu her room number and explained that her dress was soiled.

Zhao Jingyu replied almost immediately: [It’s fine if you can’t get it clean. I’ll have someone send you another dress. Don’t be afraid. Wait for me there.]

A wave of calm washed over Liang Jinshang, soothing her trembling body with a feeling of strength and safety.

But soon, she realized something was wrong. A chill started in her chest but quickly turned to heat, flooding through her body in just a few minutes. The room’s air conditioning was set low, yet she grew hotter and hotter—a sensation she knew all too well.

When Shang Yucheng used to torment her, he would leave her dangling, caught between longing and restraint, and this unbearable sensation would take hold. Now it was back, but amplified a hundredfold.

Bu Qingqing…

Liang Jinshang bit down hard, chewing over that name with fury.

That woman’s stupidity was terrifying—if Bu Qingqing’s target was her, then judging by her earlier behavior, she must have laced all three glasses of wine!

No, wait…

A more dreadful thought struck her: what if Bu Qingqing had schemed against both her and Zhao Jingyu? That would make this a plan to kill two birds with one stone!

Her breath came in feverish, ragged bursts, and the surging heat sapped her strength. Stumbling, she rushed into the bathroom, desperate to douse herself with cold water, but her dress was far too tight. The more frantic she became, the harder it was to undo the fastenings. High-end gowns like this couldn’t get wet, and soon she was slick with sweat, the laces at her back loosened only halfway.

Just then, the electronic lock at the door began to blare with alarm—someone was trying to force their way in!

Liang Jinshang’s blood felt like it was about to ignite, while a cold dread crept up her spine. She staggered to the door.

Peering through the peephole, she saw the very last person she wanted to face.

Hu Zhinan seemed to know she was watching. He looked up, his entire face coming into view, twisted into a vicious grin. “Tonight, you won’t escape.”

No words could describe the terror consuming Liang Jinshang at that moment.

With trembling hands, she tried to call Zhao Jingyu.

“We’re sorry, the number you have dialed is powered off…”

Liang Jinshang slid down the door to the floor, her back pressed against the wood as it shuddered with heavy blows. Eyes brimming with tears, she hesitated for a few seconds, then dialed another number.

She didn’t hold out much hope—if Zhao Jingyu’s phone was off, then calling Shang Yucheng would probably get her nothing but a “blocked” message…

“Hello.” That familiar male voice sounded, and for once Liang Jinshang’s composure broke, a sob catching in her throat.

“…Shang Yucheng.”

His steady breathing faltered at the sound of her near-tears. Unbidden, countless tangled nights flashed through his mind. His Adam’s apple bobbed, and when he spoke again, his voice was husky. “Where are you?”

She gave him her room number and curled up on the carpet, hugging herself as the fever within became harder to control.

The door was quickly unlocked, and Shang Yucheng pulled Liang Jinshang from the floor.

She didn’t have time to wonder what had become of Hu Zhinan outside—her hand flew up, aiming a slap at Shang Yucheng’s handsome face.

He seemed prepared, turning his head aside and catching her slender wrist, pinning her against the wall.

“Is this how you treat your savior, hmm?” His voice held an edge that Liang Jinshang, lost in her confusion, failed to recognize. Only he knew that edge was born of the plaintive way she’d called his name—the urge to mark her as his, body and soul, burned within him.

Liang Jinshang panted, “You knew everything, didn’t you?” The moment she said his name, he hadn’t asked what was wrong—he’d simply demanded to know where she was.

Shang Yucheng’s hands, elegant and deft, unhurriedly took over loosening the laces at her back—a task he was all too familiar with.

But she didn’t make it easy for him.

She knew that letting him help would bring relief, but a cold, stubborn anger kept her from surrendering so easily.

That chill and defiance in her heart refused to let her offer her neck to the blade.

He could abandon her for days without a single call, but when he wanted her back, he could stand by and watch someone drug her and then wait for her to come begging…

“Don’t touch me! Let me go!” Liang Jinshang struggled, yanking her dress up over her shoulder, her sweaty face lifted defiantly. “Get out! Leave!”

“Are you sure you don’t want me here?” Shang Yucheng looked utterly unruffled, a stark contrast to her disarray. He didn’t even seem angry at her rejection—after all, he was the one who’d dealt with Hu Zhinan.

Liang Jinshang’s current state was pitiful enough to satisfy him. He said coolly, “You look like you’re suffering.”

Fortunately, her eyes were clouded and unfocused, or she might have noticed that he was in almost the same condition, barely hiding his own turmoil as he mocked her.

She shivered uncontrollably, but still managed to push him away.

He let her go, folding his arms as he watched her dash into the bathroom.

She tore off the expensive dress as she ran, leaving it strewn across the floor, and rushed into the bathroom barefoot, nearly slipping as she went.

Ice-cold water poured over her—chilling, even at the tail end of summer.

She no longer cared if the hotel bathroom floor was clean or not; she collapsed, weak-kneed, onto the cold tiles, shoving her fist into her mouth and biting down hard.

Shang Yucheng stood at the door, watching her self-destructive struggle with detached indifference.

But whatever “goods” Bu Qingqing had procured, they were potent—cold showers had little effect. Liang Jinshang pulled her bitten, bruised hand free and reached trembling downward…

Shang Yucheng’s composure finally cracked, his eyes dark as the deep sea.

In a few strides, he crossed into the shower, the icy spray drenching them both, though it did little to help.

He bit down on her pale lips, his strong arms lifting her up and pulling her close. He gave a low, derisive laugh. “You didn’t put up half this fight the first time… You’d rather suffer than have a man help you.”