Chapter 2: What Is His True Intention?

Qiao Xi felt as if she had been struck by lightning, thinking she must have misheard. Her vision swam with darkness.

Become Mrs. Fu?

What kind of cosmic joke was this?

Who was he?

The heir to the Fu family, a dynasty of merchants in S City whose wealth rivaled nations; the president of Fu Group, a global top 30 corporation with assets in the hundreds of billions. A man whose mere stomp would send tremors through the entire industry—a towering figure that countless socialites and ladies schemed to win over.

And she, Qiao Xi, an ordinary cosmetics engineer from a modest family background—in comparison, the distance between them was like the earth’s core to the stratosphere.

How could he utter “become Mrs. Fu” with such nonchalance?

Qiao Xi jerked her head up, her gaze colliding with the bottomless darkness in the man’s eyes. There was not the slightest hint of jest in his expression—so calm it unnerved her.

“… President Fu, are you joking?”

“We just spent one night together, and now we’re bound for life?”

“Has inflation gotten so bad even relationships are this expensive?”

The words tumbled out; even her voice changed, sharp enough to slice through the air.

He wore no shirt.

His bronzed skin still bore traces of last night’s frenzy, abdominal muscles sharply defined, and below that…

Qiao Xi’s face flushed crimson. She hastily averted her gaze.

This man was the embodiment of raw masculinity—a true menace!

Fu Yancheng seemed quite satisfied with her reaction. His deep, morning-hoarse voice sounded, slow and deliberate.

“I never joke.”

“Especially about matters like this.”

He pronounced her full name for the first time, sending a chill down her spine. “Qiao Xi. You slept with me—don’t you think you should take responsibility? Or did you think you could dine and dash?”

He stood above her, imposing.

His eyes, as dark as obsidian, clearly reflected her current disarray and panic. His expression remained calm, utterly devoid of humor.

Qiao Xi looked as though she might faint from fright.

Fu Yancheng softened his tone, the edge receding. “I’ll give you one week to think it over.”

With that, he pressed her no further. Picking up his phone, he spoke simply, “Prepare a suitable set of women’s clothing, including underwear, size…”

He reported her exact measurements, then added, “And bring a tube of anti-swelling analgesic ointment—for… deliver it immediately.”

Qiao Xi: ???

Her cheeks burned anew. This was too much…

Less than fifteen minutes later, Special Assistant Zhou Ze arrived with several elegant bags, set them on the living room coffee table, and withdrew swiftly.

Fu Yancheng said, “Get changed. Apply the ointment.”

Dazed, Qiao Xi clutched the clothes and medicine and stumbled into the bathroom.

When she emerged dressed, she immediately tried to slip away.

“Stop.”

Fu Yancheng’s long stride blocked the doorway. Between his slender fingers, he held his phone, a WeChat QR code glowing on the screen.

“Add me as a friend. After all, there should be some after-sales protection, right? If you run off, who do I claim damages from?”

With all his wealth, he still wanted to chase her for damages—truly the epitome of ruthless capitalism!

Qiao Xi gnashed her teeth, itching to borrow an axe and chop him down.

Fu Yancheng raised an eyebrow. “Either scan now, or I’ll add you at the office—right in front of everyone.”

“… I’ll scan!”

Her fingers trembled as she scanned the code.

He was finally satisfied, barely glancing at her. “Zhou Ze’s downstairs. He’ll take you home.”

Qiao Xi had no room to refuse. Still in a daze, she followed Zhou Ze to the familiar black Bentley downstairs.

The car pulled away from the Fu residence.

Zhou Ze remained silent the entire way, only speaking when they reached her apartment building. “Miss Qiao, we’ve arrived.”

She opened the door and took off without a backward glance.

Back in her rented apartment, Qiao Xi collapsed to the floor, utterly drained.

Mrs. Fu… Even the thought of it sent chills through her.

She knew Fu Yancheng, at least the aloof, decisive president everyone at the office revered. For a man like him, marriage could only ever be about profit.

What did she have? Aside from her professional skills, she possessed nothing.

What could he possibly want from her? Was this revenge for her offense yesterday? Did he find her novel and amusing, a pawn in some power play?

Or…

Qiao Xi dared not dwell further.

She didn’t know how much time passed before her phone suddenly rang.

She glanced at the screen: Gu Heng’an.

Memories of that anonymous message resurfaced—the image of him entangled with another woman still vivid in her mind.

A wave of nausea rose in her throat.

The phone rang again and again.

Qiao Xi took a deep breath, then swiped her finger across the screen.

Blocked number. Deleted contact.

Her movements were swift and decisive, without a hint of hesitation.

Less than a minute later, the phone rang once more.

Frowning, Qiao Xi didn’t even look before swiping to answer, steeling herself for the loathsome voice she expected.

But instead—

“Nannan?” A cautious, familiar female voice came through the receiver.

Her mother.

Her anger vanished instantly. Qiao Xi tried to keep her tone steady. “Mom? It’s me.”

Her mother audibly relaxed on the other end. “Nannan, why didn’t you answer last night? The celebration dinner… did it go well?”

“Mom, I’m fine. The dinner was great,” Qiao Xi replied, striving to inject some cheer into her voice. “Everyone was so happy, I drank a little too much. Woke up with a headache.”

She dared not mention Fu Yancheng, much less what had happened last night.

After a brief silence, her mother spoke again, her voice thick with fatigue. “As long as you’re alright, that’s all that matters. I was just worried about you. And… he came by again.”

She paused, pain and helplessness barely concealed. “Nannan, that man… he came again…”

Qiao Xi’s heart sank, her grip on the phone tightening.

Both mother and daughter knew who “that man” was.

The father she’d been divorced from for years—a gambler, clinging like a leech and impossible to shake off.

“…He blocked me at the market again, made a scene. He owes loan sharks this time, says if he doesn’t pay up they’ll break his hands and legs… He demanded money from me, threatened to ruin my little stall if I didn’t…”

Her mother broke down, sobs coming through the line. “Nannan, I’m sorry. I… I wish I’d never married him…”

“Mom… I’m alright, you did nothing wrong.”

Qiao Xi’s voice was hoarse. She closed her eyes, fighting to quell the trembling. “Be careful, don’t talk to him. If he comes back, call the police!”

“… In a few days, once I find a new place, I’ll take you and we’ll move.”

After a sleepless night, Qiao Xi returned to the company the next day, dark circles under her eyes.

Clutching a stack of reports, she forced herself toward the elevators, heading downstairs to the lab.

As the doors slid open, she was lost in thought and failed to notice the man standing inside.

She looked up suddenly—tall, impeccably dressed in a tailored dark gray suit, exuding a cold, commanding presence. Who else could it be but Fu Yancheng?

Qiao Xi froze.

All the chaotic, fevered memories of last night surged forth…

Don’t think about it! You must not think about it!

She screamed inside, instinctively taking a half-step back, desperate to flee.

But panic only made things worse.

Her heel, not even that high, caught on the elevator threshold.

With a short, startled cry, she stumbled, reports flying from her arms, papers scattering everywhere.

Just as she braced herself for a mortifying fall, a strong, steady hand seized her wrist and yanked her back.

The world spun. She collided hard against a broad, solid chest.

Startled, she looked up—her lips brushed against his chiseled jaw…

P.S.:

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