Chapter Three: Seeing Her with Someone Else?!

"Stay still. I am your attending physician, and also your landlord. Since you are injured, I have the duty and responsibility to ensure you are safe and sound."

Yu Zao struggled instinctively, causing the car to rock violently.

Outside the car, Chen Fang chuckled, unfazed. "Shiyong, see that? The girls at The Golden Leopard are all very 'open,' but the main point is, you have to have money—and it has to be the kind that is truly loaded!"

The implication was clear: as the "top attraction" of this place, Yu Zao must be even more "wild" for money.

The bleak moonlight shone on the half-open car window. From the angle where Fu Shiyong couldn't see, the two of them were just a doctor and a patient, tending to a forehead wound. But from another perspective, it looked somewhat…

"Forget it! Speak of the devil, and here he is. Artist Yu, this 'service' in the car surely doesn't come cheap, does it?" Chen Fang sneered. He rubbed his chin, deliberately glancing at Fu Shiyong beside him.

The man stood like a magnificent statue capable of stunning all living things. He was silent and motionless, yet radiated the most formidable and terrifying pressure.

Yu Zao felt a chaotic storm within. The metallic, fishy taste of blood surged in her throat. Her newly bandaged ankle accidentally hit the door, and an excruciating, piercing pain flooded her. Yet, on the surface, she gritted her teeth so hard they nearly shattered, biting into the tender flesh of her inner cheek, determined to feign an indifferent calm.

She even hooked her arm around Yang Chen’s neck in front of Fu Shiyong, "flirting" with him: "Brother Yang, come support me tonight. If I sell the most alcohol tonight, I’ll go home with you."

Having said that, she completely ignored the existence of Fu Shiyong and Chen Fang, pulling Yang Chen into The Golden Leopard.

Chen Fang glanced at the license plate and scoffed, "The eldest son of the Yang family, forty years old, with a wife and kids. If he tried just a little harder, he could have fathered Yu Zao. Is this woman really so desperate for money that she’ll take anyone?"

"Eyesore."

Fu Shiyong was a man of few words and ruthless actions, difficult to fathom. He looked at Yang Chen’s limited-edition Cullinan and spat out those two words. Then, he adjusted his cuffs—which sported the cheapest of cufflinks—and headed straight for the club's top floor via the VIP entrance.

The next second, as soon as the man left, seven or eight men in black appeared out of nowhere, swinging iron bars onto the car. Chen Fang watched in a daze as the ten-million-dollar vehicle was reduced to a pile of scrap metal in minutes.

In the staff breakroom, Yu Zao rushed to the restroom as soon as she entered and vomited blood all over the floor. Yang Chen followed close behind, feeding her the blood-replenishing supplement he carried, unable to help but scold her: "Yu Zao, people are born with mouths to speak. You didn't sell yourself out, so why can't you just tell Fu Shiyong—"

"Because I’m dying!"

She lay collapsed in the pool of blood. She laughed and cried, covering her face. Her voice sounded joyful, yet in the reflection of the lights, damp moisture seeped through her fingers.

"Brother Yang, you are my attending physician; you know this illness is incurable."

"I know Fu Shiyong. If I hadn't truly hurt him deeply, he wouldn't have let go, and he certainly wouldn't be living the good life he has today!"

So, three years ago, she chose to sacrifice herself for his future. And now, three years later, as someone destined to die, there was even less need to seek anyone's forgiveness or understanding.

"Yu Zao, do you still love Fu Shiyong? Even though the woman he is about to marry is your father's illegitimate daughter?" Yang Chen spoke each word with great difficulty.

Yu Zao wiped the blood from the corner of her mouth, staggered to her feet, and smoothed her disheveled hair. She was truly beautiful—breathtakingly, soul-stirringly beautiful. Even with a deathly pale complexion and weary eyes, she was still a woman who could topple cities and kingdoms with a single smile.

"I don't love him anymore, and I can't afford to. Now, I just hope he and Yiyi can live happily."

"As for me, perhaps death is the only true liberation. Living in such agony, I truly don't know what the point is anymore!"

With that, she went to the changing room to put on her server uniform. Once she emerged, she pushed Yang Chen toward the elevator. "Brother Yang, thank you for playing along with that act earlier. Go home quickly; don't keep your wife waiting, and don't mention divorce again. I know you still love her."

"Love? Yu Zao, Chen Ya and I, we—"

"Yu Zao! Bring drinks to VIP 688! They specifically asked for you, hurry up, don't drag your feet!" the manager yelled at the top of his lungs.

Yu Zao squeezed out a smile, pressed the button for the first floor, turned, and ran off.

As the elevator doors closed, Yang Chen wanted to chase after her, but his phone rang with the personalized ringtone he had set for Chen Ya—a sound of her crying, screaming, and threatening to hang herself.

On the other side, outside VIP 668:

"Good evening, sir. Here are the three bottles of whiskey you ordered, and..."

"Did your patron leave?"

In the main seat of the sofa, Fu Shiyong’s well-defined fingers slowly rolled the Brazilian cigar in his hand. Under the dim lights, the man’s overly sharp profile seemed to be edged with a priceless gilded light.

Yu Zao dared not look. Her hands, holding the tray, tightened bit by bit, the fragile skin pressed into vivid red welts.

"Mr. Fu, I have delivered your drinks. If there is nothing else, I have work to do."

How many times had she fled from him like this? But this time, the door was locked from the outside by his bodyguards. The VIP suite, which was not small, made Yu Zao feel an oppressive sense of claustrophobia.

"Come here. Pour the drinks."

The tone was that of a command to the lowliest slave. Yet, three years ago, the very same man would have been unable to sleep all night if she had accidentally cut her finger while chopping vegetables. The next day, he would have taught himself to cook and sworn to the heavens that he would handle every meal from then on.

"What are you standing there for? Whatever Yang Chen pays you, I’ll pay double."

"Yu Zao, don't you love money the most? I'm giving you a chance to earn a little more."

The tip of his expensive leather shoe kicked a glass off the table. The man’s voice was steady and restrained, laced with undeniable mockery.

"Kneel down and pick up the glass."

"Yes, Mr. Fu."

This time, Yu Zao did not hesitate. She knelt straight down onto the floor right in front of him. But just as her knees were about to touch the cold marble, a strong, powerful arm, wrapped in fury that was pushed to its breaking point, yanked her into his arms and pressed her against the wall.

The back of her head hit the padded surface. It didn't hurt much, but the rebound force left Yu Zao with ringing ears.

"Yu Zao, do you love money that much? Enough to cast aside your self-respect? Enough to lose all self-love and sell yourself?"

With every word Fu Shiyong spoke, he gripped her throat tighter, shaking her violently. Her stomach churned. Her vision blurred, and even though she fought to stay upright, she began to collapse from exhaustion. Her brain spun in a dizzying haze.

Before she completely lost consciousness, she seemed to see a familiar, handsome face filled with panic and anxiety.

"Yu Zao! Yu Zao, what's wrong?"

"Wake up! Are you sick? Did you leave me because you were ill..."