Chapter 41 The Woman Who Hurt Me

Love is a delicate sensitivity, plagued by the fear of losing or gaining; love is a cup of poison, yet sweet as honey to the lips.

-----------------------------------------------------------

As dusk settled and the city lights bloomed into splendor on this autumn night heading toward withering, scenes of bustling life unfurled. In the world of romance novels, updates are released first, and you only arrive...

“Huaijing, see you tomorrow!” Mu Chenxi’s lingering gaze froze upon the man’s chiseled profile, as if not even the rising car window could shield her resolute eyes.

The black Maybach departed into the night without a hint of hesitation, vanishing around the corner before Mu Chenxi finally withdrew her chasing gaze. She had just turned around when, in a secluded corner of the garden, a shadow suddenly appeared.

“It’s you!” Mu Chenxi’s wary eyes studied the figure beneath the dim streetlamp, then she started in surprise. “Aron, what are you doing at my doorstep?”

“Of course, I’m here waiting for the return of my goddess—brilliant and beautiful as ever,” Xu Ze replied with a reckless spark in his gaze, his wildness undiminished. “Your so-called fiancé doesn’t bother to get out of the car to see you in, nor does he invite you to stay the night. No wonder you pour all your efforts into tormenting your imagined rivals.”

Mu Chenxi’s eyes darkened, her smile vanishing. “You came just to mock me?” Seeing him nod in admission, she sneered inwardly. “Is a three-month-old stage affair really worth more to you than three years of friendship with me?”

“No! No! No!” Xu Ze wagged a finger, laughing lightly. “My friendship is not some cheap decoration.” He leaned in, his breath warm against her ear. “Does your mouth still hurt? Tsk, tsk—biting yourself, bleeding just a little—why not go all the way and give yourself internal injuries? Now that’s the style of a jealous woman! They say love makes women foolish, but I’ve never seen it drop this low before.” She prepared to retort, but he silenced her with a finger to her lips. “No, that’s not right—seems like there’s not even love.” He flashed a devastating smile. “Believe me: the more you do, the more mistakes you make. Compete with Xue Zuining? She’s no match for you. But try to fight a man, and you’ll never win.”

With that, Xu Ze simply strode away, his figure stretching long and solitary under the streetlamp’s glow.

Mu Chenxi stood rooted to the spot, the strap of her purse gripped so tightly that her nails left deep marks. Watching Xu Ze’s rebellious silhouette, a cold sneer stirred in her heart: Imagined rival? No, Xu Ze, you’re wrong! From the moment I saw Lu Huaijing’s name traced drunkenly on the windowpane, jealousy has nearly torn me apart. But I am Mu Chenxi—any third party who dares intrude between Huaijing and me must pay the price.

“Ah—” In the midst of a troubled dream, Lu Huaijing jolted awake, his arm aching with numbness. Only when he opened his eyes did he realize the night scene was streaming past outside the car window.

Old Yang, the driver, quickly switched off the soft music playing in the car. “Sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

His right arm felt as if it had been wrenched from his body—numb, lifeless, hanging at his side.

Lu Huaijing slowly clenched his fist. Suddenly, the afternoon replayed in his mind: it had been this hand that had struck that woman. His fist dropped, striking the car seat in frustration, the rebound stinging his knuckles.

In the instant his palm landed, he saw Xue Zuining’s eyes flicker with a rapid blink—she was afraid, yet why, if she was afraid, did she not dodge?

Xue Zuining, are you a fool? Why didn’t you avoid it? Lu Huaijing cursed her inwardly.

In truth, at the moment he raised his hand, he had hesitated. But with the arrow nocked, he could not turn back. Everyone around him was watching, and his masculine pride would not let him stop. So when he struck, he silently pleaded with her: Xue Zuining, just step aside—if you move, this slap will never touch you.

But she neither dodged nor flinched… in fact, she seemed to move toward him.

The car glided slowly into the courtyard. From the rearview mirror, Old Yang glanced at the man lost in thought, eyes closed. After a long pause, he said quietly, “Sir, we’ve arrived.”

“Home already?” Lu Huaijing hardly noticed his words, opening the door and stepping out.

The first floor was empty. He hurried straight upstairs to the bedroom.

Pushing open the door, he found her—contrary to habit—not curled up in bed, but intently watching the wide screen of the wall-mounted television.

Xue Zuining bit her lip as she watched the media’s seemingly gentle, yet truly sharp pursuit of Xu Ze on television. Anxiety clouded her mind; she hadn’t expected the afternoon’s altercation to be leaked to the paparazzi. Who had done it? Dong Qian? But if that woman had an IQ above twenty, it certainly wasn’t her!

Now, on the screen, a reporter once again tossed a thorny question at the unabashed, defiant Xu Ze. “Aron, sources say you acted out for Miss Xue this afternoon, confronting investors on her behalf. Rumor has it that the newcomer, Miss Xue Zuining, landed the lead role in ‘Falling Flowers’ due to her relationship with you. Are you two really a couple, or is there more to the story?”

Xu Ze removed his flashy sunglasses, a sly smile curving his lips. “I do admire her.”

“So, you’re saying you are indeed a couple?” The reporter pressed the mic to his lips again, but he simply snatched it from her.

“I admire many people…” Xu Ze gazed down at the female reporter with a small, mocking smile. “For instance, I very much admire your… capacity for logical leaps.”

With that, he tossed the mic away, leaped into his sports car, and sped off.

The screen abruptly cut to black with a snap. Xue Zuining, startled, turned to find him standing right behind her.

“What’s this? Fall for a new lover and forget your old bedside companion?” Lu Huaijing’s hawk-like eyes lowered, studying her face where the bruises had already faded. “Fickle tastes are a virtue—at least you won’t keep pining for your old flame.”

“Lu Huaijing, you’re being utterly unreasonable!” Xue Zuining shot to her feet, meeting his gaze with a disdainful tilt. “Don’t assume everyone’s as shameless as you.”

“Still angry?” For once, Lu Huaijing’s touch was gentle as he caressed her injured cheek. “Silly girl, why don’t you ever spare a thought for me? No man would show my rival the mercy I show you.”

With that, he took her hand and led her toward the bathroom.

Xue Zuining had no idea what trick he was playing now. He turned on the tap, swiftly filling the basin with water. Then, turning, he handed her a bloodstained handkerchief. “Wash it clean for me, with your hands.”

“I’m not your servant.”

“But you are my woman,” Lu Huaijing’s eyes gleamed. “And a woman who’s hurt me, at that.”

When she remained unmoving, as unshakable as a mountain, he simply seized her hand, plunging the handkerchief into the water. Pulling her close, he nipped gently at her ear, murmuring a low threat, “Come now—unless you want to wash all night.”