Chapter Fifty: Now This Is Awkward

Fang Yujia returned to the Tangchen Villa in a state of panic, rushing up to the second floor in one breath. By the time she reached Xiao Cheng’s bedroom door, she was already out of breath. Usually so aloof and indifferent, now her face was filled with anxiety—a look she had never worn before.

She was truly terrified. According to the investigator, that gunshot was very likely fatal. Even if Xiao Cheng had not done so much for her, she would still worry. Now, knowing he was wounded because of her, she found it even harder to let go.

Her life from childhood had always been as bland as plain water, uneventful and tasteless. She had believed her heart would remain as calm as a still lake, but now, Xiao Cheng had stirred its surface. To be silently protected by someone was a happiness both heavy and fragrant—precious beyond measure.

“Xiao Cheng, are you in there?” Fang Yujia asked softly through the wooden door, her voice trembling.

Silence. Deathly silence. Fang Yujia’s heart fluttered with dread.

Knock, knock, knock, knock. Her slender hand rapped crisply against the door, but there was still no answer from within. However, she noticed that her knocking had left the door slightly ajar; it hadn’t been fully closed.

She was about to push the door open, but her hand hesitated in midair, frozen by fear—afraid that opening the door would reveal Xiao Cheng lying in a pool of blood.

After a long moment, she braced herself and gently pushed, but instead of the door swinging open, it toppled over with a thud. The door crashed straight down; after Wang Qiyi had kicked it in that other time, Xiao Cheng had never bothered to repair it.

Startled, Fang Yujia didn’t pay it much heed and looked into the bedroom.

The room was simple: a computer, a neatly made bed, a wardrobe, and nothing else. The empty space felt as though no one had ever lived there. Xiao Cheng was nowhere to be seen; everything was so calm and still.

Staring at the vacant room, Fang Yujia felt a sudden emptiness blossom in her heart.

Xiao Cheng had not returned—where had he gone? Wounded by a gunshot, alone—what would he do? Had he gone to a hospital? But with a gunshot wound, no hospital would take him in.

“Xiao Cheng, where are you?” Fang Yujia murmured, a tear sliding down her cheek. Suffering a gunshot wound with no one to care for him—how wretched that must be.

At that moment, her gaze fell on a gift box atop the computer desk—a deep red box, tied with a ribbon into a bow.

Who was this gift from her brother-in-law intended for? Fang Yujia couldn’t understand; he never had the habit of giving gifts. But now, she didn’t care—perhaps the gift would yield a clue to Xiao Cheng’s whereabouts.

She tore open the wrapping. The box bore the label “Victoria’s Secret,” a brand so famous that even someone as unfamiliar with luxury goods as Fang Yujia recognized it.

Without further hesitation, she opened the box and found five pairs of pink lace-trimmed underwear.

Lace-trimmed underwear? For whom?

Fang Yujia froze, then suddenly recalled an incident from ten days before. She had just showered and, upon coming out, ran into Xiao Cheng. Due to a mishap, her underwear had fallen to the floor. Embarrassed, she hadn’t picked it up; Xiao Cheng, mortified himself, had nudged it into the trash can and promised to bring her a new box later…

This box from Victoria’s Secret was what Xiao Cheng had meant to give her! Fang Yujia flushed red.

If this had happened before, she would have thought Xiao Cheng was just teasing her. But now, things were different. Would a man who risked his life for her still do something so childish?

She was someone who took things seriously; otherwise, she wouldn’t have gleaned so much from Xiao Guowei’s convoluted hints. Her brother-in-law had prepared a gift for her even before risking his life, and though the present was a bit risqué, her heart warmed at the thought. Yet, remembering the danger Xiao Cheng might be in now, she grew even more anxious.

…

For two whole days, Xiao Cheng remained at Zhuo Qinglian’s place, quietly recuperating.

He had no idea that Fang Yujia was searching for him all over the city. He’d never considered that anyone would suspect him of killing Xiao Guowei, and even if they did, it would take a long time to figure out. Clearly, he had underestimated his sister-in-law’s powers of deduction—something he hadn’t anticipated at all.

Over these two days, Zhuo Qinglian’s behavior had changed dramatically. The femme fatale had transformed into a model housewife. Though she still didn’t wear underwear, her clothing was much more conservative than before, and she no longer flirted with Xiao Cheng.

This left Xiao Cheng utterly baffled. Even the most enlightened beings would have trouble taming such a vixen, yet she suddenly seemed to have changed her ways? He found himself missing the old Zhuo Qinglian.

He asked her what was going on, only to be met with a coquettish roll of her eyes. “Sister can be anything—goddess, devil, or anything in between. Take it or leave it, boy.”

He thought to himself: one of you is enough; if there were a thousand, could I even survive?

His recovery was going well—the gunshot wound was mostly healed, as long as he didn’t move too vigorously. In the meantime, he taught Zhuo Qinglian how to cultivate the Five Harmonies Heart Sutra.

Though she was a beginner, and it was normal to struggle at first, Zhuo Qinglian surprised him. Once she grasped the basics, she quickly drew inferences and mastered many things on her own, without being taught.

This didn’t astonish Xiao Cheng; Zhuo Qinglian had always been highly gifted. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have reached the same level in internal martial arts as Xiao Guowei by the age of twenty-five.

In just two days, Zhuo Qinglian’s cultivation had nearly broken through to the second level of foundation building. This gave Xiao Cheng a sense of urgency—if he didn’t step up his own training, she might soon surpass him.

He hadn’t been idle these two days, either. Since his deadly fight with Xiao Guowei, his cultivation had improved considerably. Over the past couple of days, he’d managed to consolidate his gains and advance to the seventh level of foundation building.

That afternoon, at Zhuo Qinglian’s insistence, Xiao Cheng reluctantly accompanied her to Prosperous Night Club. Today was its grand opening.

Prosperous Night Club was a lavish nightlife venue built by the Qinglian Society at great expense. The renovations alone had taken six months. For such an important occasion, Zhuo Qinglian didn’t need to make a public appearance, but she still had to be present to show authority.

The underworld in Shanghai was a tangled web of rival forces, and events like this inevitably drew envious eyes, with others looking to stir up trouble.

The opening ceremony was spectacular. Thanks to certain connections, they had secured a special permit for fireworks, which were now blazing through the air. Drums thundered, lions danced—the atmosphere was lively and exuberant.

Xiao Cheng, his arm linked with Zhuo Qinglian’s, stood by a sculpture, feeling utterly uninterested. He disliked such noisy occasions.

Just then, a blue Maserati drove across the plaza. Inside sat Fang Yujia. Her face was wan—after two days of searching for Xiao Cheng, she had visited nearly every hospital in Shanghai, but still had found no trace of him.

She had no idea where he might have gone. All she could do was drive aimlessly through the city, hoping for a clue.

At that moment, she looked up, sweeping her eyes over the crowds. Suddenly, her gaze sharpened. Beneath a sculpture stood two people: a woman holding a man's arm.

—