Chapter 63: Did You Just Kiss Me?

Fu family.

Never before had Fu Ting Shen found the two people in the photograph so unbearable to look at.

The woman tattooed on the back of Fu Wen Zhou's neck might be unfamiliar to others, but Fu Ting Shen remembered her all too well. On the day he divorced Song Qing You, her shoulder, marked by a small red birthmark, was covered in traces of kisses. It wasn’t hard to imagine how fiercely she had been claimed by another man. Only those possessed by strong desire would leave their mark in such intimate places.

A love of a lifetime?

What, then, was his three-year marriage to Song Qing You supposed to be?

Fu Ting Shen's face darkened, twisted in anger. He would never allow himself to be toyed with like this. The mere thought that Song Qing You and Fu Wen Zhou had slept together filled him with revulsion.

Lin Niao Niao, carrying a tray of coffee, gently tapped at the door. When no answer came for a while, she cautiously pushed it open. "Ting Shen, I made coffee for you."

Ever since her miscarriage at the wedding and the scandal that followed—kneeling on the floor and imitating a dog—Fu Chang Lin and Qin You refused to acknowledge her as their daughter-in-law. They repeatedly ordered Fu Ting Shen to throw her out of the house.

If not for the lingering traces of affection Fu Ting Shen still held, allowing her to remain, nameless and without status, in the villa, she would have long been homeless.

Now, Lin Niao Niao dared not raise her voice around Fu Ting Shen. Even when he went out to see other women, she turned a blind eye.

As long as the title of Mrs. Fu remained.

She walked closer, placing the coffee on the table. Out of the corner of her eye, she glimpsed the photo on his phone, and her expression changed instantly.

Was that Fu Wen Zhou kissing someone in public?

And the woman in his arms...

A flash of malice crossed Lin Niao Niao's gaze. Everything she had become was thanks to Song Qing You.

She softened her tone, edging closer to Fu Ting Shen.

But as soon as she drew near, Fu Ting Shen recoiled sharply, his face twisted with disgust. "Didn't I tell you not to come in when I'm working?"

Lin Niao Niao blinked, looking utterly aggrieved. "Ting Shen, I just worry you’re working too late, nothing more. Besides, we’re married—you don’t need to avoid me like this."

Once, such a display would have made Fu Ting Shen feel nothing but pity. But now, all he felt was irritation and loathing.

He frowned deeply. "Is there anything else?"

So he was already dismissing her. Lin Niao Niao bit her lip hard, eyes flickering to the photo, feigning surprise. "That woman looks like Song Qing You. The picture doesn’t seem recent—does that mean she was involved with your nephew before the divorce? Isn’t that... immoral?"

Fu Ting Shen's face chilled instantly. His grip tightened as if he might crush the phone.

Lin Niao Niao knew she’d struck a nerve but pressed further. "When Song Qing You married you, she pretended to be an ethereal goddess, untouched by worldly things. Turns out, she was sneaking off to see Fu Wen Zhou every night. She never saw you as her husband; her three years in the Fu family were nothing but an act. Ting Shen, she’s always been using you."

With a crash, Fu Ting Shen smashed his phone to the floor.

The image of Song Qing You, calm and detached, threatening him for assets on the night before their divorce, surfaced in his mind. All the memories came flooding back, and Fu Ting Shen finally understood he was nothing but a pawn to her—a piece to be used and discarded.

She had never loved him.

No wonder...

No wonder, over the past three years, he’d brought Lin Niao Niao home, slept with other women in front of her, and she remained unmoved.

The sound of wind and snow roared outside. The light cast Fu Ting Shen’s face into a sinister shadow.

-

The next morning, Song Qing You opened her eyes and glanced at her hands. Only one thought filled her mind.

These hands were no longer clean.

She pursed her lips, rising from the bed. Before her feet touched the floor, heat bloomed in her waist and abdomen. Before she could react, a pair of arms swept her up from behind, pulling her into a warm embrace.

Fu Wen Zhou held her tightly, burying his face against her shoulder like a large, affectionate dog. "Sister, the sky is clear. Sleep a little longer."

Song Qing You tried to push him away, but her arms felt sore. Frustrated, she asked, "Don’t you have work today?"

Fu Wen Zhou lifted his eyelids, his voice rough. "I’m the boss. I go when I want. If I don’t want to go, I don’t."

Song Qing You ignored him, pried his arms off, and crawled toward the foot of the bed.

But Fu Wen Zhou was quick—he caught her ankle. Her heels were like white jade, her toes soft and pink, so beautiful that he couldn’t look away.

Sometimes he wondered why every inch of his Qing You was so lovely, as if she’d been created precisely to please him.

His fingers traced the porcelain skin of her foot, his touch lingering, eyes growing darker with affection, unwilling to let go.

Song Qing You felt uneasy under his gaze and tried to pull her foot back.

Fu Wen Zhou wouldn’t allow it. He bent and pressed a kiss to her toes, his manner reverent.

A shiver ran through her. She withdrew her foot, blushing. "Why... why would you kiss... there?"

Didn’t he mind it was dirty?

Fu Wen Zhou chuckled, rolling over to pin her beneath him, his voice low and hoarse. "Is there any part of you I haven’t kissed?"

Now, not only were her ears red, but her whole face burned with embarrassment and anger. "You scoundrel!"

Fu Wen Zhou kissed her lips, murmuring lazily, "I can be even more shameless if you want."

Song Qing You stiffened, raising her eyes. "Did you just kiss me?"

"Mhm." Fu Wen Zhou lowered his head, intent on kissing her again.

She covered his mouth with her hand.

Her voice was soft and damp, tinged with a sleepy sweetness. "You just kissed my foot!"

Fu Wen Zhou paused, then burst out laughing, teasing, "Are you disgusted by me or by yourself?"

Song Qing You glared, eyes wide. "You, obviously!"

She shoved him aside and got out of bed.

Fu Wen Zhou watched her retreat, unable to suppress a smile. He loved the lively, adorable way she got angry.

No sooner had Song Qing You moved away than Fu Wen Zhou, like a clingy puppy, followed after. Zhou Zhou, the dog, protested, only to be picked up and set aside by Fu Wen Zhou. "She’s mine. Why are you getting so close?"

Unable to win a fight, Zhou Zhou circled in frustration.

Song Qing You rubbed her brow. "If you keep neglecting your work like this, aren’t you afraid Fu Ting Shen will take advantage?"

Fu Wen Zhou played with her long hair, leaning in to inhale its scent, his tone lazy and reckless. "What’s mine, he can’t take."

Song Qing You was briefly stunned.

Fu Wen Zhou buried his face in her hair, hugging her from behind, unwilling to let go. "Qing You, stop looking."

Song Qing You sighed. If he clung to her all day, she’d never accomplish anything.

She turned to him. "Go to work."

Fu Wen Zhou blinked. "What?"

Song Qing You raised her eyelids slightly. "Are you going or not?"

Fu Wen Zhou gritted his teeth, resigned. "Fine, I’ll go."

He kissed her reluctantly. "Wait for me at home. Don’t go anywhere."

Song Qing You laughed softly. "You’re so possessive."

Fu Wen Zhou snorted, hugged her tightly, and nibbled at her again before finally leaving.