Chapter 33: A Single Slander Against Yu Zao, Fu Shiyong Strikes

It was Fu Shiyong’s number.

Even if she blocked him ten thousand times, this man had the power to force his messages onto her phone. This was the weight of power and wealth.

Yu Zao smiled. Her heart, once riddled with holes, had truly died that night at the art gallery when he had let Chen Fang torment her. This was fine. He did not love her, and she would no longer feel the ache of heartbreak for him.

"Hello, I would like to report a case of harassment..."

Ten minutes later, inside the Fu family wine cellar, Chen Fang waved his hand, pouring a drink for Fu Shiyong with a wry, helpless expression. "Come on, Yu Zao is a total idiot. This is Jingbei—it’s your territory, Fu Shiyong. Does she really think calling the police will do anything? What a brainless piece of trash!"

Just as the whiskey was poured, the man with the dark, handsome face slammed his hand down. With a sharp crack, he hurled the crystal glass directly into Chen Fang’s face. Blood mixed with alcohol, stinging with agonizing intensity.

"Fu Shiyong, what the hell is wrong with you?" Chen Fang barked. "Yu Zao is a shameless, ruined woman who’s good for nothing. What’s wrong with me saying so?" As a brother, Chen Fang was the only one who dared to speak such truths.

On the high stool, Fu Shiyong gripped a handful of shattered glass. It seemed that the only way to soothe the soul-tearing anxiety he felt at that moment was through self-inflicted pain. He stared fixedly at the walls covered in paintings Yu Zao had left behind. In every single one, a young boy and a girl were shown loving each other without reservation.

"Chen Fang."

"What?"

"She did it on purpose."

"On purpose?" Chen Fang, currently bandaging his face, froze.

The man curled his thin, grim lips, his voice steady and low. "She’s telling me that if I keep pushing her, she’s capable of anything."

City-wide blacklisting, cyberbullying, a ruined reputation—if anyone believed that such things were happening without the backing of immense capital, even a child like Fu Yiyi wouldn't be fooled.

Chen Fang winced in pain. After a moment, he sneered, "So what? If you loved her, maybe Yu Zao would have some leverage. But now that your heart belongs to Yu Yue, what else can a woman like her possibly do?"

*Doesn't love her? Is that so?*

A sharp shard of glass was caught between his well-defined fingers. Under the table, Fu Shiyong dragged it slowly along the path of his capillaries, carving out jagged, bleeding gashes.

Outside the cellar, Yu Yue watched with gritted teeth. She watched as the man she had spent three years trying to please was sent into a relapse of depression by a single move from Yu Zao.

"How dare you? Yu Zao, are you a cockroach? How are you so hard to kill? Fine! If you insist on making me unhappy, then I’ll just have to make your life even more miserable."

***

The next day, overnight, the streets and alleys—even public restrooms—were plastered with AI-generated nude photos and intimate images. The subject in every one of them was Yu Zao. They even included a contact number, the pink font dripping with a lewd, suggestive aura: "Affordable and easy, come and sleep with me!"

"Get out! Are you bringing your filth into my place? Get out, you bring nothing but bad luck!"

Yu Zao’s meager belongings were tossed out by the landlady of a small inn. The woman stood in the doorway, bellowing, "Someone! Come here and sanitize the room that bitch stayed in—every corner! Who knows what kind of infectious diseases she’s carrying?"

Passersby gathered to watch. The women were judgmental and moralizing; the men looked at her with lecherous eyes, as if stripping her bare.

Meanwhile, at a nearby construction site, a motorcade of eight luxury cars escorted a Maserati through the streets. The foreman hung a massive banner, and firecrackers popped in celebration. The landlady stood on tiptoe, watching with a mix of jealousy and envy. "That must be the future Mrs. Fu’s motorcade, right? Let me tell you, that construction site is an art gallery Chairman Fu is building specifically for his beloved wife—the largest in the world. Even the most prestigious artists have to beg Mrs. Fu for a chance to exhibit their work there."

Her voice was deafening, making Yu Zao’s eardrums ache. She bent down to pick up the clothes scattered on the ground. Because she was saving every penny for special medication, she had even cut out her painkillers. The side effects left her dizzy and weak, her body feeling as if it were floating without a foundation.

Then, there were the wandering hands of the crowd, constantly trying to take advantage.

"Heh, so this is the former Mrs. Fu. The love you looked down on back then—I bet even if you groveled for it now, you wouldn't be worthy of it anymore, right?" A voice mocked from the crowd.

Yu Zao felt little emotion. She dragged her suitcase, preparing to leave. Unexpectedly, an old man in his seventies reached out to grope her. She dodged instinctively, stumbled, and collided with a tall man nearby. She quickly steadied herself, intending to apologize, but the man’s girlfriend didn't care for explanations. She shrieked and slapped Yu Zao repeatedly.

"You slut! My boyfriend is a programmer at a big firm—you trying to seduce him? I’ll skin you alive!"

The tall man brushed his clothes where Yu Zao had touched him with disgust. "This is a custom-made piece worth seventy-eight thousand. Even if you sell yourself a thousand times over, you can't afford to pay for it, you hear?"

"Honey, don't waste your breath on her. Watch me beat her to death today!"

Yu Zao’s condition was worsening, and she hadn't had a full meal in days. Her body was so weak she had no strength left. She was grabbed by her hair and dragged to a trash can by the side of the road, where the woman rained punches and kicks upon her.

Across the street, a Rolls-Royce pulled up. The window rolled down slowly. Fu Shiyong straightened Yu Yue’s slightly rumpled Hermès scarf, then thoughtfully instructed the driver to turn up the car’s humidifier.

The pampered young Miss Yu pouted shyly. "I’m not made of paper, you know. I’m just here to check the progress at the site; why did you have to come along?"

"A day without seeing you feels like three autumns."

It was a cheesy line, but spoken in Fu Shiyong’s deep, magnetic voice, it was lethally seductive.

*Thud!* With a kick, Yu Zao was sent rolling toward the car like a ball. Coincidentally, the driver opened the door. Yu Yue saw her and gasped. "Sister? Shiyong, this..."

"It’s just trash. Come, darling, let me carry you out. I don't want you to dirty your shoes."

The man stood tall and imposing, his shadow casting a crushing weight of authority. Yet, when he lifted Yu Yue, he was incredibly gentle, treasuring her with meticulous care. Then, without the slightest hesitation, he stepped directly over Yu Zao’s dust-covered body.

Instantly, the air was filled with mocking, raucous laughter.

The landlady shouted, "A slut is a slut! Did you see that? Mr. Fu just made her suffer the humiliation of being stepped over!"

"Hahaha, what a bitch. Look how much Mr. Fu cherishes the great artist Yu Yue, while he doesn't even see you as human, his own ex-wife!"

The programmer’s girlfriend spat insults. To curry favor with Fu Shiyong and Yu Yue, the programmer kicked Yu Zao hard in her most vulnerable spot—her stomach. "Get lost, you pathetic wretch! Don't come here and disgust us!"

In the distance, one could faintly hear Fu Shiyong saying, "Shall I cook dinner for you and our son tonight?"

"Yes, Yiyi has been craving your signature sweet and sour pork."

What a harmonious, happy family of three.

Yu Zao pulled herself up from the ground, battered and broken. She did not resist, nor did she offer a single word of explanation. Power and wealth were like towering mountains; when they pressed down on you, how could a penniless commoner ever prove her innocence or turn the tables?

*Buzz.*

As expected, a text arrived on her phone from Yu Yue: "Sister, if you hadn't abandoned your husband and child three years ago and run away, who do you think would be enjoying all these privileges right now?"

At the Dingsheng Restaurant, on the third floor in the SVIP suite, Yu Yue and Fu Shiyong walked in hand-in-hand. For an artist like Yu Yue, meeting the people waiting inside after the site inspection was of the utmost importance.

At the head of the table, a young girl, looking no more than eighteen, was being served by three or four attendants with blonde hair and blue eyes.