Cheng Yu subtly observed this “heavenly” prince, noting his gentle smile and warm, approachable demeanor. Even while wolfing down his food, he maintained an elegant air, like a jade tree in the breeze. It was hard to imagine that he was the infamous Giulio Fang, known in both the legal and underworld circles of Italy. Officially, he was the president of “Fia” Software Group, with influence permeating politics, the military, corporations, stock markets, and finance. Behind the scenes, he was intricately linked with the notorious gang “Kramer,” involved in extortion, smuggling, drug trafficking, intimidation, murder, stock manipulation, running gambling dens, and brothels, leaving no stone unturned. Some even said he was a core member of “Kramer.” Previously, when Cheng Yu and Liu Yi were in Milan for a fashion show, they didn’t bother to greet this local bigwig, not expecting that every move of theirs was under his watch. Cheng Yu raised an eyebrow and smiled, “Young Master Jun Jie, my visit to Milan was a private matter. You are so busy; how could we dare to disturb you uninvited? Only upon hearing of your return did we dare to come and pay our respects.” Fang Jun Jie waved his hand with a laugh, “Young Master Yu is too polite. I need everyone’s help now that I’m back.”
Xin Peipei sat to the side, somewhat bored, watching the two engage in a verbal fencing match. Glancing around, she faintly felt as if there was someone in the bedroom. Fu Xiaotang had woken up and vaguely heard voices outside. Coming to her senses, she was suddenly struck by a voice both strange and familiar. It was the voice that once scornfully said to her, “We’ve always been a cash-and-carry deal, why pretend to be chaste now?”, the same voice that half-seriously, half-mockingly said, “I love seeing that look on your face when you’re trying to endure,” and the voice that was cold and merciless, “If anyone touches her, I’ll make sure they pay double!” And the voice that she hated to the core, “Well done, Tang Xiaofu, you really are something!” It wasn’t Cheng Yu, who else could it be? Memories flooded back, leaving Fu Xiaotang breathless, unsure whether it was hatred, resentment, anger, or indignation. She covered her heart, as if these emotions were vying to burst forth from her chest.
Xin Peipei, listening closely, now heard faint whispers from the bedroom, confirming someone was indeed there, though she couldn’t speak out. If the prince didn’t want it known, even if someone stood right in front, she’d have to pretend not to notice. But then, lifting her head, she saw a figure at the bedroom door. Curious about what kind of beauty could catch the eye of this young master, she looked closer to see it was the girl with the mushroom haircut, wearing only a white shirt, her vest in hand, glasses off, and hair slightly disheveled, looking like she’d just been through something quite suggestive, yet undeniably unappealing.
With a crisp sound, Xin Peipei turned to see Cheng Yu, a cigarette in his mouth, staring blankly ahead, his lighter dropped on the coffee table. Xin Peipei pouted slightly; if it were a stunning beauty, being dazed would be understandable, but our prince has unique tastes, doesn’t he? She moved over to light his cigarette. But he remained in a daze for a while, only snapping out of it when Xin Peipei called out to him impatiently, “Young Master Yu.” Cheng Yu lowered his eyes, took a drag from his cigarette, and exhaled a long puff, his brows tightly knit.
Fang Jun Jie spoke softly, “Are you awake? Do you need to rest a bit more?” Fu Xiaotang shook her head slightly. Fang Jun Jie looked at her with a smile, his eyes inadvertently showing a hint of affection, “Last night…” he paused suggestively, as if reminiscing, “Never mind, go rest well.” Fu Xiaotang nodded, then hesitated, “Young Master, my…” She pointed to the corner of her eye, “my glasses.”
“Oh, right,” Fang Jun Jie remembered, “I took them off, they’re somewhere around here,” he said, looking around the sofa. Cheng Yu, with a stern face, slowly extended a hand from behind, “Is this what you’re looking for?” Fu Xiaotang’s gaze turned cold as she saw her black-framed glasses dangling from his long fingers. She stepped forward, hand outstretched, “Please, Young Master Cheng.” Her voice was calm and devoid of any emotion. Cheng Yu instinctively tightened his grip on the glasses, as if holding something precious, and after a long moment, forced a strained, awkward smile, “Yours?” he asked in a whisper.
Fu Xiaotang didn’t respond, just extended her hand further. Cheng Yu stared at her intently. She had lost weight, perhaps from staying up late or from neglect after a miscarriage, her face was very pale, her eyes cast down, casting small shadows with her thick lashes. Her forehead and cheeks were half-covered by her hair. Strangers wouldn’t know what a beautiful face she had. At that moment, Cheng Yu wished, he so wished, for Fu Xiaotang to look at him, even if just for a moment. But she didn’t; her eyes stubbornly remained on the glasses. Cheng Yu suddenly felt an overwhelming sadness; he threw the glasses onto the coffee table as if they were hot. Fu Xiaotang calmly picked up the glasses, put them on, and slightly bowed, “Young Master, I’ll be heading downstairs.” Fang Jun Jie nodded, casting a subtle glance at Cheng Yu, his eyebrow slightly raised, silently laughing.
Xin Peipei, puzzled, accompanied Cheng Yu back home. The atmosphere was heavy all the way, Cheng Yu’s face cold, his eyes could have sparked fire. Xin Peipei didn’t dare speak, silently following him inside. Cheng Yu entered his bedroom, then turned as if noticing Xin Peipei for the first time, squinted, and without explanation, pulled her inside. As if he couldn’t wait to reach the bed, he pushed her down onto the carpet, quickly undoing his tie.
In the extreme fatigue of her body, Xin Peipei seemed to hear Cheng Yu’s barely audible murmur, “Taste this,” but she was too tired to ponder further and soon fell asleep. Cheng Yu lay alone on the sofa in his study, legs propped on the table, one hand holding a cigarette, the other clutching a bottle of liquor. The emptiness and loneliness after the release of passion seemed to seep into him, gnawing at him bit by bit. He had no resistance, as if only the stimulation of nicotine and alcohol could temporarily free him from this endless despair. When Song Li entered, he saw Cheng Yu in this state; they had known each other since childhood, almost twenty years of friendship.
