Chapter 73: I’m Going to Make You Mine Tonight

At first, a flash of surprise flickered through Fu Yancheng’s eyes, but it swiftly melted into an almost overflowing tenderness and indulgence. His reaction was quick, not a trace of panic on his face. On the contrary, he tightened his arm around Qiao Xi’s waist, letting her settle more securely in his embrace.

“It seems our champion has really had a bit too much to drink,” he teased, lifting his gaze to the stunned subordinates before him. “She’s started talking nonsense.”

With effortless ease, he drew Qiao Xi closer and then, with a smile, raised his glass to the crowd. “Enjoy yourselves tonight—put everything on my tab.”

His eyes drifted over Qiao Xi’s flushed profile. “I’ll have to take our heroine home to rest first. She’ll likely have a headache tomorrow.”

These words soothed the team and offered a perfect excuse for their departure—leaving nothing to be seized upon, yet inviting all manner of speculation. Everyone caught on at once, laughter bubbling up as the atmosphere regained its warmth. Still, there was a new glint of understanding—and barely concealed excitement—in their eyes.

Saying nothing more, Fu Yancheng half-supported, half-carried Qiao Xi from the room, departing with composure under their collective gaze.

Inside the elevator, Fu Yancheng looked down at the little woman nuzzling against his chest, his eyes turning dark and smoldering.

“Husband…” Qiao Xi seemed to find an even cozier position, murmuring again.

The word poured oil on the flame. Fu Yancheng’s arms tightened, holding her fast.

“Xixi… what did you just call me?” His voice was low and hoarse, seductive. “Say it again.”

Dazed and pliant in her drunkenness, Qiao Xi obediently hummed, “Husband…”

The answer delighted Fu Yancheng to the core. He laughed quietly, the deep sound vibrating in his chest, brimming with pleasure and satisfaction.

When the elevator chimed open, he swept Qiao Xi into his arms, cradling her as he strode toward the suite’s door.

“Good girl,” he whispered languorously at her ear. “Tonight… say it again, just for me.”

Meanwhile, in the top-floor office of the Lu Corporation, a giant screen displayed an image frozen on Qiao Xi’s radiant smile as she held her trophy aloft.

The room was deathly silent, broken only by Lu Yanzhi’s heavy breathing.

With a crash, he seized the laptop on his desk and flung it at the wall. The device went black, splitting into pieces that scattered across the floor.

Veins bulged at Lu Yanzhi’s temples; his eyes were bloodshot and wild.

He had failed.

All his plotting and scheming—undone, just like that!

A moment later, Lu Yanzhi yanked off his suffocating tie and drew several deep breaths. Yet the darkness churning in his eyes only deepened.

“Very well, Fu Yancheng…” he ground out the words through clenched teeth. “This time, you win.”

He fell silent for a while, then let out a soft, chilling laugh—devoid of warmth, laced only with an eerie obsession and madness.

The game was far from over.

What he had lost, he would reclaim a thousandfold.

Including that woman—again and again, she had surprised him, made him grind his teeth in hatred, yet he couldn’t suppress his possessiveness.

…

Fu Yancheng had just carried Qiao Xi into the living room of the presidential suite, intending to set her down on the sofa to let her rest. But she clung to him bonelessly, refusing to let go.

“No… don’t…” she mumbled, gazing up at his sharply defined jaw, then suddenly giggled foolishly. Stretching out a finger, she poked his chin.

“Fu Yancheng…” she sang out his name, drawing out the last syllable, her drunken voice both sweet and brazen.

“Hmm?” Fu Yancheng indulged her, steadying her carefully, afraid she’d fall.

Suddenly, Qiao Xi gave a forceful tug, seizing his tie with both hands and yanking him down.

Caught off guard, Fu Yancheng bent obediently toward her.

She met his eyes, close and deep, grinning like a triumphant little fox.

“Fu Yancheng… I, Qiao Xi, tonight… am going to sleep with you!”

“…”

Fu Yancheng raised an eyebrow. “Oh? And how does Mrs. Fu plan to do that?”

Qiao Xi fumbled clumsily at his shirt buttons. “First like this… then like that…”

After a long struggle, she hadn’t managed a single button; her cheeks only grew redder with frustration.

Fu Yancheng laughed softly, catching her restless hands in his own and sweeping her up again.

“Be good, go to sleep first,” he coaxed, laying her gently on the big bed. “When you wake up, you can make good on your promise.”

Qiao Xi, eyes half-shut and cheeks flushed, lowered her voice mysteriously. “Fu Yancheng, I have a surprise to tell you…”

“Actually, I’m Dr. Q!”

At her words, Fu Yancheng stiffened, his heart skipping a beat, a complicated light flashing in his eyes.

This wasn’t the first time she’d let this secret slip after drinking.

Last time, he’d dismissed it as drunken nonsense. But tonight, recalling her profound academic display at the event…

He forced down his surging thoughts, keeping his expression neutral.

“Really? My Xixi is that amazing?”

“Mhm!” Qiao Xi nodded vigorously, though her eyelids were drooping. “I didn’t tell you… just to surprise you…”

With a couple more murmurs, she finally drifted into a deep sleep.

Fu Yancheng gazed quietly at her peaceful face, his eyes fathomless as the sea.

A moment later, he tucked her in and went out to the suite’s living room.

He dialed a number. “Investigate everything about Dr. Q, especially original data and handwriting from early, unpublished papers.”

He paused, his gaze flicking toward the bedroom. “Focus on comparing writing style and academic habits with my wife’s.”

“I want the most conclusive evidence, as soon as possible.”

After hanging up, he stood alone at the floor-to-ceiling window, far less calm than he appeared.

The following morning.

Qiao Xi was roused by a dull headache.

She opened her eyes and suddenly remembered—she yanked the covers over her head.

Oh no!

What had she done last night?

She seemed to remember grabbing Fu Yancheng’s tie… and loudly declaring she would sleep with him?!

While she was still cocooned in the blanket, the bedroom door opened.

Fu Yancheng entered, carrying a white porcelain bowl. He had swapped his suit for comfortable loungewear, looking relaxed and gentle.

“You’re awake?”

He sat at the bedside, handing her the bowl. “Head hurt? Drink this hangover soup first.”

Peeking out from the covers, Qiao Xi couldn’t bring herself to look at him. She took the bowl and sipped it slowly.

Fu Yancheng watched her in silence, his eyes deep.

Suddenly, as if recalling something, a faint smile tugged at his lips. “Did you know?”

“Yesterday, you looked on stage just like the Dr. Q I always imagined.”

“Cough!” Qiao Xi choked on the soup, coughing violently.

She hastily set the bowl aside, trying to compose herself. “W-what nonsense!”

“How could I possibly compare to someone like Dr. Q…”

“Just teasing,” Fu Yancheng replied indulgently. “But, Xixi, I really must thank you—”

He paused. “For standing up for that idol I’ve never met.”

Qiao Xi’s taut nerves relaxed a little, but his open admiration for Dr. Q filled her with delight.

Does he really admire me that much?

If he knew she was Dr. Q, how happy would he be?

She was lost in thought when suddenly her phone vibrated.

Chu Xiangxiang’s name flashed on the screen.

“Xi Bao, something’s wrong! Your mom’s just been taken to the hospital!”

Qiao Xi’s mind went blank, her fingers trembling uncontrollably. “What?!”