Chapter 16: You Know Exactly How to Annoy Me

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It was only then that he noticed the chill in Xu’s eyes, a stark contrast to his usual refined elegance. There was a youthful, rebellious fierceness, like a young man dressed in fine clothes, proud and defiant.

He unbuttoned his suit jacket, grabbed the baseball bat from the back seat, and stepped out of the car, slamming the door shut with a bang.

Zhao Botong saw several people get out of the van, their eyes sharp and hostile, each holding a bat, advancing aggressively.

The van was unremarkable, worth no more than a few tens of thousands, but the anti-peep film on the windows was high-grade, pitch black.

Xu tapped the passenger window with his bat. “Old Lin, you’re grown, yet still playing hide and seek with me?”

The man in the passenger seat clicked his tongue, opened the door—a tall, pale man in a black suit, wearing a pair of scholarly gold-rimmed glasses, looking cold and ruthless.

Lin Yu jumped out. “Three years in the slammer have put some meat on my bones. I weighed myself at home—twenty pounds heavier! Coming out this time, the first person I want to thank is Chief Engineer Fang!”

Xu glanced at him coolly. “I’ve been waiting for you all along. Didn’t you say if you didn’t die inside, the first thing you’d do when you got out was kill me?”

Lin Yu chuckled twice. “Chief Engineer Fang, you hold grudges. I was young and reckless back then. Three years inside taught me a lot. I’ve matured—talking about death so casually isn’t right anymore.”

Xu’s expression darkened. “Matured but still using childish tricks? If I really had a car accident here, do you think my men wouldn’t investigate the cause? You want to mess with me, but you picked the worst timing—just out of prison, everything’s sensitive.”

Lin Yu shook his head, looking toward Xu’s red Flag sedan. “There’s someone in the passenger seat. That doesn’t look like Miss Meng.”

Xu shifted to block Lin Yu’s view, his face hardening. “She’s a woman I keep on the side. Women are like clothes—if you open your mouth, it’s not over between us.”

“You talk as if I’m a gossip,” Lin Yu said. “But Chief Engineer Fang, hearing you say that, makes me think you care about Miss Meng.”

Xu brushed snowflakes off his coat. “Of course I care. Otherwise, why would I spend hundreds of millions to bring her home? But girls from old families have strict upbringing—they can’t let loose in some ways, not fully enjoy themselves.”

Lin Yu smiled knowingly, withdrawing his gaze, a trace of levity in his eyes.

Xu tapped the unremarkable van. “Say your goodbyes and scram. You’re not in good health; it’s easy to catch a cold in this heavy snow.”

Feigning gratitude, Lin Yu said, “Thanks for your concern, Chief Engineer Fang. Little Lin’s not the same as before. We’ve got a long way to go.”

He waved his hand, and several burly youths climbed into the van, which then sped away.

Zhao Botong sat nervously inside the car.

The area was secluded; every word of their conversation reached her ears. Even though they had left, unease lingered in her heart.

When Xu got back in, the wound on the back of his hand was nearly dry, though quite deep.

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Zhao Botong asked, “Should we go to the hospital for a tetanus shot?”

Xu raised an eyebrow. “Worried about me?”

She denied it. “No.”

Xu frowned. “Then what is it?”

Taking a deep breath, she said, “I just think someone like you, raised in luxury with attendants taking care of every detail, rarely gets hurt. Even if it’s just a surface wound, like with injured cats or dogs, if not treated properly, it can get infected.”

Xu laughed, biting his lip. “Zhao Botong, you really know how to get on my nerves.”

Despite his words, when they arrived at the villa in the East District, Zhao Botong skillfully found the first aid kit, planning to dress his wound.

Setting aside her work as a veterinary doctor, whenever she saw injured stray cats or dogs, she would take them home and care for them until they healed.

Xu’s injury was on the back of his hand. Zhao Botong dipped a cotton swab in disinfectant ointment, unavoidably touching his skin. She felt his gaze fixed on her head.

“Were you scared just now?”

“A little.” She pressed her lips together. “Who were those people?”

“Old friends.”

“I don’t remember you having friends like that, and you don’t seem like the type to have them.”

“That’s because you don’t know me well. You hardly ever went with me to public places before. You don’t know what I do outside. But if you don’t remember me having troublesome friends, just remember what’s happened in this villa.”

Many ridiculous things had indeed happened in this villa.

When Xu took time off, he would bring Zhao Botong here to stay for a few days. He would hold her and kiss her passionately, tirelessly—in the bathroom, on the bed, by the floor-to-ceiling windows...

Zhao Botong didn’t want to recall; her cheeks warmed as she made an excuse to go upstairs to shower.

She locked the bathroom door, turned on the shower, letting warm water cascade down her swan-like neck, collarbones, and graceful curves.

The water was hot, and soon the bathroom filled with steam.

Near the end of her shower, she realized there was no towel, not even a washcloth.

She paused for two seconds, then unlocked the bathroom door slightly, just enough to reach out, hesitant to call out too loudly, “Brother Xu, is there a towel outside?”

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Zhao Botong didn’t know Xu was on the phone with Mrs. Fang.

Because it was quiet, Mrs. Fang clearly heard her say, “Brother Xu...”

“Who are you with?” Mrs. Fang’s sharp ears caught that.

“With a woman.” Caught in the act, Xu didn’t deny it.

“A new acquaintance? It sounds like...”

“A new acquaintance,” Xu interrupted. “A whim. Nothing after marriage.”

Mrs. Fang was half convinced. “Meng Tang is one in a million—a girl from a noble family. Though the Meng family isn’t as powerful as before, their complex web of interests remains. Your grandfather has always wanted you to inherit the Zhang family’s business and protect your cousins. Those spoiled second-generation heirs can be reckless, but you can’t. Others respect you as Young Master Fang—why? Because your status, honor, and the price you pay are inseparable. You can play around outside, but don’t take it seriously.”

Xu was silent for two seconds. “I have boundaries.”

“Good,” Mrs. Fang said, unwilling to complicate matters. “Take precautions. Give what’s necessary. Don’t scrimp on expenses.”

Xu calmly hung up, took a towel from a sealed bag, and headed to the bathroom upstairs.

He knocked on the door. “Towel.”

Zhao Botong opened the door a quarter of the way, just enough to stretch out an arm. The mist billowed out. Xu reached in and handed her the towel.

Water droplets traced down Zhao Botong’s arm.

She grabbed the towel; he caught her hand in return.

One was naked, shrouded in steam; the other’s body radiated heat, just as intense as the shower.

After a brief tug, she withdrew her hand and closed the bathroom door.

“I don’t want it anymore,” Zhao Botong said, both embarrassed and angry.

“Just teasing you. Here you go.” Xu’s voice came through the frosted glass. Zhao Botong’s silhouette was faintly visible through the frosted door—slender and alluring, her curves enticing.