Chapter 49: Turning Against Without Mercy

The morning sunlight pierced through the lingering mist.

The man’s broad frame pressed gently against the delicate curve of the woman’s waist. Fu Wenzhou held her in his arms as if she were the most precious treasure in the world, planting a tender kiss on her long, curling lashes.

Song Qingyou lay nestled against his chest, her long hair like seaweed spilling over him, her bare back smooth and delicate as white jade—just a glance could set a heart aflame with desire.

The traces of passion still lingered on her body, even the graceful valley of butterflies on her back seemed imbued with charm and allure.

Fu Wenzhou bent down to kiss the line of her spine. The woman in his arms shifted uneasily, and only then did he reluctantly release her.

His Qingyou, finally, belonged entirely to him.

A satisfaction he had never known welled up inside Fu Wenzhou. He took his private phone to capture an image of her beautiful back. When he was done admiring it, he set it as his phone’s wallpaper.

—

When Song Qingyou woke, daylight already flooded the room. Last night’s indulgence had nearly cost her half her life.

She struggled to keep her eyes open, too exhausted to move.

Fu Wenzhou came in carrying breakfast. Seeing she was still in bed, he drew her into his arms and began kissing her from behind, so persistent it nearly took her breath away.

“Stop… stop kissing me,” Song Qingyou protested, her voice hoarse, struggling even to breathe.

A window stood open, letting in fresh air. The weather after the heavy snow was clear, not too cold with sunlight streaming in. But Song Qingyou was always sensitive to cold, so she added a thick coat over her sweater before she’d get out of bed.

The night’s excess had left her unsteady, nearly stumbling as she stood. Fu Wenzhou caught her from behind, whispering, “I had no experience last night. I won’t ever let you hurt again.”

Song Qingyou barely restrained herself from rolling her eyes.

Was pain the issue? It was his lack of restraint!

If not for her body having recovered somewhat these past days, she would have thought he intended to wear her out completely.

To be fair, Fu Wenzhou felt wronged as well. In his heart and eyes, there was only Song Qingyou—he had never even glanced at another woman. Chaste for twenty-one years, the moment he tasted desire, he was like a starving beast set loose upon its feast, forgetting all restraint.

When he woke to see the marks he’d left on her, his heart ached, and he cursed himself bitterly. Yet, beneath the regret, there was an undercurrent of secret excitement and satisfaction.

After Song Qingyou had washed up, she sat quietly eating breakfast. Fu Wenzhou watched her intently, eyes filled with a husband’s devotion as she sipped her porridge and tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear, making his throat itch with longing.

How could she entice him so?

Song Qingyou wiped her lips and looked up at him. “You haven’t forgotten what I said yesterday, have you?”

Fu Wenzhou raised an eyebrow and leaned in, his voice rough: “Qingyou, you said so many things last night—which one do you mean?”

Song Qingyou’s ears flushed red; she hadn’t expected him to be so shameless in broad daylight.

She drew a quiet breath, forcing herself to appear calm. “All I can give you is today.”

The mischievous smile faded from Fu Wenzhou’s face, a sense of foreboding rising within him.

Song Qingyou’s gaze was steady. “Today is already over, Fu Wenzhou.”

The words were like a blade driven into a beast’s heart—sharp and straight to the core. The tenderness in Fu Wenzhou’s eyes drained away, replaced by a crushing anger. He gritted out, “What are you saying?”

Song Qingyou looked at him, bewildered. “We’re both adults. The mood was right, so we slept together—nothing more. As long as the experience was pleasant, that’s enough. Afterwards, we go our separate ways and keep things uncomplicated. Wasn’t that our agreement yesterday?”

Agreement, my ass!

Fu Wenzhou was nearly driven mad with rage.

His mind had been clouded last night; he hadn’t paid attention to her words at all. Had he known what she intended, he’d have rather died than touch her!

Seeing his dark expression, Song Qingyou thought perhaps she’d been too blunt, so she tried to reassure him. “It was your first time, and mine too—neither of us lost out.”

In Song Qingyou’s mind, Fu Wenzhou had agreed to her terms the previous night, which was why they’d ended up in bed together.

So, it was only natural to part ways after. At the very least, he shouldn’t still be lingering in her home.

“I’ve really been taken advantage of!” Fu Wenzhou’s eyes were bloodshot. He seized Song Qingyou’s chin, holding himself back. “We’ve kissed, we’ve held each other, we’ve slept together, and now you want to pretend it’s all in the past? To hell with your ‘today’ and ‘tomorrow’—I want to be with you for the rest of my life!”

Song Qingyou was stunned. The rest of their lives?

But she didn’t have a lifetime to give.

She shook her head, trying to pry his hand away, but, fearing he might lose control again, she held back. “I think you need to calm down.”

Fu Wenzhou was truly exasperated, his heavy breath hot on her face. “Calm down? How could I?”

“So what do you want?” Song Qingyou tried to stay rational.

He stared at her for a long moment before letting go. “You have to take responsibility for me.”

Song Qingyou was shocked. “It was mutual—why should I be responsible?”

Was he a scoundrel?

He kissed her whenever he pleased, never asking for her consent. Last night, even when she said no, he acted as if he didn’t hear, tirelessly claiming her until her legs were weak and her body ached.

And now, he demanded she take responsibility for him. No scoundrel could compare.

Frustration surged in Song Qingyou. “What do you want, exactly? What do you expect from me? I only have a few years left—do you want me to spend them idly falling in love with you? Let me make this clear: I don’t need love. My life’s goal is to reclaim the Song Group and avenge my mother and grandfather. As for you, you were never part of my plans!”

Fu Wenzhou stood frozen, as if carved in stone. His expression twisted, dark and tortured, eyes filled with a mix of obsession and grief—it was impossible to tell if it was pain or anger. After a long silence, he slowly stood and stepped away from her.

He then turned to clear the table, washing the dishes with meticulous care. If not for the storm raging in his eyes, one would never guess he’d just quarreled with Song Qingyou.

Song Qingyou slumped in a rattan chair, her thoughts in turmoil. Fu Wenzhou was obsessive by nature, more unhinged than anyone.

If she agreed to be with him and then died one day, what would happen to him? Would he follow her into death?

She closed her eyes, for the first time deeply resenting the frailty of her own body.

Exhausted, Song Qingyou covered her eyes with the back of her hand.

She was too greedy.

She couldn’t let go—she wanted more. Again and again, she indulged his closeness, only to push him away in moments of sobriety.

It wasn’t fair to Fu Wenzhou.

Forget it, Song Qingyou thought. Now that he knew she wouldn’t live long, and her harsh words had wounded him, he’d surely leave.

The door closed with a creak.

Song Qingyou’s body tensed, unmoving for a long while.

A bitter smile tugged at her lips, her eyes hollow as she whispered, “Go on, and don’t come back.”

She was too heartless, unworthy of his love.