Volume One, Chapter 19: Then Let Us Fall into the Abyss Together

When the door of the VIP suite was pushed open, Bo Xingzhou was lost in thought, a glass of whiskey in his hand. He glanced toward the entrance, his gaze turning cold and indifferent.

“What are you doing here.” His tone left no room for questions.

Bo Xingzhou set down his whiskey and leaned back against the leather sofa, his long fingers tapping twice on the armrest.

Lu Jingyan stood motionless at the doorway, his eyes behind gold-rimmed glasses quickly sweeping the entire room.

Xu Qian’s high heels echoed sharply against the marble floor as she walked in cautiously, her eyes like searchlights scanning every corner.

Apart from Bo Xingzhou, a few of his friends were present—Rong Yu, Zhou Muchen, Lin Lan. These figures, rarely seen together even in glossy magazines, were all inside this private room.

Scattered on the coffee table in front of the trio lay cigars and wine glasses, but to Bo Xingzhou’s right stood a solitary white cup of milk, a faint trace of lipstick on its rim.

Xu Qian’s fingers curled involuntarily at the sight.

That should have been me sitting here.

What right did that woman have?

“I heard you were here on business, so I dropped by to say hello,” Lu Jingyan said, his gaze resting on the milk cup, a barely perceptible curve at the corner of his lips.

Bo Xingzhou watched them walk to the seat where Fu Yuting had been, his brow furrowing, his tone clearly displeased: “Is that so? I thought the old man sent you to spy on me.”

Suddenly, Xu Qian bent forward. “Drinking milk all alone, Mr. Bo?” She straightened, her eyes meaningfully lingering on the cup.

Zhou Muchen looked up in confusion. “Milk? That belongs to our sister-in-law.”

The air in the room turned instantly tense.

Bo Xingzhou’s expression grew frosty; under the table, Rong Yu kicked Zhou Muchen discreetly.

“Our sister-in-law was here too?” Lu Jingyan raised an eyebrow. “Why don’t I see her?”

Bo Xingzhou unhurriedly picked up his whiskey, took a sip, and replied, “She had something to do.” He set the glass down with a crisp ‘ding’ as it met the tray. “She just left.”

“Will she be back?” Xu Qian’s eyes flickered, her intent a little too obvious.

Lu Jingyan gave a quiet warning, but his gaze remained fixed on Bo Xingzhou’s face, searching for the slightest sign.

Suddenly, Bo Xingzhou stood up, his tall frame casting a shadow beneath the crystal chandelier. He straightened his cuffs with a graceful composure that nonetheless made Xu Qian involuntarily retreat half a step.

“You talk too much.” Bo Xingzhou’s gaze locked with Xu Qian’s, his voice low and dangerous.

Xu Qian’s red lips parted slightly, lost for words.

What did he mean by that?

Was he worried she’d be upset by his relationship with that other woman? Or did he care about her being with Lu Jingyan?

Lu Jingyan stepped in at just the right moment. “Brother, you’re joking,” he said, glancing at the milk cup with a hint of meaning. “Give my regards to our sister-in-law.”

Bo Xingzhou said nothing, his expression cool as he turned to head for the restroom.

Some time passed.

As Bo Xingzhou pushed open the restroom door, a strong perfume enveloped him.

Xu Qian was leaning against a Roman column opposite, a high slit in her skirt revealing a length of pale skin, her fingers idly twirling a strand of hair.

“Mr. Bo.” Her voice was syrupy sweet as she approached him in ten-centimeter heels. “I came to apologize. I was rude in the private room earlier.”

Bo Xingzhou’s face was impassive as he refastened his cufflinks, his watch catching the cold glow of the corridor’s wall lamp. “No need.”

Xu Qian had already come dangerously close, though she hadn’t touched him yet.

A voice, as cold and quiet as a snake’s hiss, cut through the air: “Your hand is better?”

Xu Qian’s face went white, her smile freezing instantly.

She instinctively looked at her right arm. It had healed, yet at his words, it seemed to ache again.

“But why did you give me the design draft?” Her voice trembled, still searching for an opening.

Bo Xingzhou didn’t move, withdrawing his gaze.

What design draft? This woman’s imagination truly ran wild.

He calmly adjusted his tie, ignoring her entirely.

Xu Qian remained rooted to the spot.

By the time she regained her senses, Bo Xingzhou had already turned and walked to the other side of the corridor.

What is he playing at? The design draft had to be from him, yet he neither confirmed nor denied it. He rejected her touch—surely because he was afraid of being seen.

Meanwhile, at the Yueye office.

Fu Yuting pushed the door open to find Uncle Chen waiting inside. This old assistant, who had served her father for over twenty years, now had hair graying at the temples and deeper lines around his eyes than when she’d last seen him.

“Yuting.” Uncle Chen rose, worry filling his gaze. “You’ve lost weight.”

Those simple words nearly broke Fu Yuting’s composure. She fought back tears, quickly locking the door behind her.

“Uncle Chen, Lu Jingyan cheated on me.” She went straight to the point, her voice trembling. “With Xu Qian.”

Uncle Chen’s face turned ashen.

“That bastard!” He slammed his fist onto the table, sending the teacup rattling. “I always knew he was no good! And Xu Qian—she’s ungrateful, after all your mother treated her like her own daughter. So, your father suspected him before he died...”

“What do you mean?” Fu Yuting caught the hesitation in his words.

Uncle Chen sighed. “Your father suspected Lu Jingyan before he passed. After that board meeting, Lu Jingyan proposed an investment that nearly cost the company dearly. Later, it was discovered those partners had private dealings with him. Your father wanted to investigate, but… he never got the chance.”

Fu Yuting’s fists clenched tighter, her eyes burning with grim resolve.

“So that’s it. In fact, my father and mother’s deaths are connected to him. Yun Zhi and I found footage: he was the last person they saw alive.” Her voice was icy.

“Those two are monsters. And yet you were about to hand over all your father’s and mother’s shares to him!” Uncle Chen was so angry he seemed to age years on the spot.

“Uncle Chen, don’t worry. He won’t get those shares,” Fu Yuting assured.

She walked to the window, gazing down at the city lights. A month ago, she had been an innocent girl lost in love—now, she was plotting revenge.

“What belongs to me, I will reclaim.”

Uncle Chen’s wrinkles deepened under the light as he sighed. “But your father specified in his will that these shares could only be transferred after you were married. He was afraid you were too young, too easily taken in by someone like Lu Jingyan.”

The atmosphere in the office suddenly became oppressive.

A bitter smile touched Fu Yuting’s lips. She lifted her head, a strange light in her eyes. “I know. I’m already married.”

“What?” Uncle Chen shot to his feet, his chair screeching across the floor. “When did this happen?”

“A few days ago,” Fu Yuting replied quietly, her voice barely audible. “To Bo Xingzhou.”

Uncle Chen’s face changed instantly. He braced himself against the table, his body trembling. “Bo Xingzhou? The ‘Cold-Blooded King’ of the business world? He’s not someone to cross.”

“Yes. It was unexpected.” Fu Yuting recalled that night, as if fate had tied a fatal knot between them.

“He might have his own agenda,” Uncle Chen said, frowning. The rumors about Bo Xingzhou were few, and none were reassuring.

That was why Uncle Chen didn’t understand, even felt opposed.

“Then let’s fall into the abyss together,” Fu Yuting whispered, her voice light as a feather, yet steely with resolve.

If revenge means dancing with the devil,

Then I’ll gladly finish this dance, even on the edge of a blade.

Tears shimmered in Uncle Chen’s eyes as he looked at this child—so familiar, yet now so changed. He would help her seek justice for her parents, too.

The office fell into silence, broken only by the ticking of the clock. Uncle Chen slumped back into his chair, seeming to age ten years in an instant.

After a moment,

Fu Yuting took the contract just signed by Uncle Chen and exchanged a look with him.

She slipped the documents into her bag, her voice gentle: “Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing.”

Uncle Chen hesitated, then simply said, “Be careful. If you need anything, contact me anytime.”

Fu Yuting nodded, composed herself, and opened the door.

Bo Xingzhou was suddenly standing in the shadowy corridor, impeccably dressed, his face severe. His eyes met Uncle Chen’s for a brief instant, sparks of silent hostility seeming to crackle in the air.

Fu Yuting felt the tension between the two men, so she bent slightly in farewell. “Don’t worry, Uncle Chen. I know my limits.”

Then she turned and hurried to Bo Xingzhou.

He watched her approach, and all his hidden worries evaporated.

They walked side by side.

The corridor lighting stretched their shadows long, overlapping—like a pair of truly loving husband and wife.

Fu Yuting looked up at his profile, deep and unreadable. She was surprised; she’d thought he’d ask her something.

“I’ve come to take you home,” Bo Xingzhou said softly.

His gentle words unsettled her thoughts.

Home?

That word felt so heavy—like it had carved a hole deep in her heart.

Her eyes drifted to his slightly parted lips.

It seemed as if traces of her still lingered there.

Flustered, she turned her head, her ears faintly red.

Before she knew it, they’d reached the entrance.

Outside, rain had begun to fall heavily.

“Come with me,” Bo Xingzhou said, shrugging off his suit jacket and draping it over her shoulders.

Seeing Xiao Chen, the driver, pull up in a black Rolls-Royce, Fu Yuting didn’t refuse. She got into the car decisively.

Raindrops wound down the window like transparent serpents. The neon lights outside filtered through the water, painting shifting colors across the interior.

Fu Yuting counted the rhythm of the windshield wipers, three times wanting to break the silence.

“Uncle Chen was my father’s most trusted assistant,” she said suddenly, her voice rougher than expected. “Yueye is his company, so…”

“No need to explain,” Bo Xingzhou interrupted, his voice as deep as an engine’s hum. “I trust you.”

Fu Yuting’s breath faltered.

Those four words were like a bullet shattering her carefully constructed defenses.

Did he really trust her?