The cool beauty forcibly bids for top A: Chapter 16

The next day.

The moisture above Victoria Harbour had not yet dissipated. The air in the Mid Levels carried not only the dampness after the typhoon’s passage, but also a restless, oppressive heat.

When Shen Yanzhou came downstairs in his suit, his complexion was terrible.

Two obvious dark circles hung beneath his eyes. His silver hair, normally combed into perfect neatness, hung slightly disheveled over his forehead. He radiated a low pressure atmosphere that warned strangers to keep away.

Last night… was simply a disaster.

That dog’s stamina was shockingly good. The sounds downstairs came and went, tossing and turning until the middle of the night before finally stopping completely. Although the villa’s soundproofing was excellent, those suppressed deep throat rough breaths seemed to travel through the floor, drilling into his eardrums through every possible gap.

It made him also…

Shen Yanzhou irritably tugged at his collar. Just as he reached the stairway corner, a rich, fresh, fragrant smell assaulted his face.

It was the smell of slow cooked congee. Dried tangerine peel, dried scallops mixed with the savory aroma of barbecued meat, dissolved into rice oil under slow gentle heat, so rich it could almost hook out a person’s tongue.

“Master, you’re awake?”

Shen Yanzhou lifted his eyelids. The instant his gaze collided with that man, the nameless fire in his heart burned even brighter.

Compared to his own listlessness, this man right now actually looked… damnably refreshed.

He wore a simple white t-shirt and lounge pants, the fabric stretched somewhat tight by his chest muscles. His curly black hair was damp, water streaming down his neck into the depths of his collar.

His whole person radiated the freshness and satisfaction of having released his tension, brows relaxed, emitting that vigorous vitality particular to male animals.

Like a large beast that had just eaten its fill of meat, now contentedly licking its paws.

“…”

Shen Yanzhou narrowed his eyes, his gaze sweeping darkly over him in a circle, finally landing on the living room sofa.

It had already been cleaned up spotlessly, no mess, as if nothing had happened.

“Where is it?” he asked coldly.

Thirty Million’s hand that was serving congee trembled, nearly throwing the spoon into the pot.

He of course knew what Shen Yanzhou was asking about.

That black silk bathrobe.

The man’s ears instantly turned completely red. The composure he had just built up instantly collapsed, his gaze dodging, stammering:

“W… washed…”

“I saw it was too dirty on there, all… so, so I hand washed it.”

Even after washing it several times, when hanging it on the balcony to dry, he seemed to still be able to smell the residual scent belonging to Shen Yanzhou on it, and the traces of his own last night’s madness.

“Throw it away.” Shen Yanzhou didn’t even give him another glance.

The man pursed his lips, responding in a low voice: “Yes.” Then obediently handed him the bowl, “Master, the congee, I simmered it for two hours. Won’t you have a bowl?”

Shen Yanzhou lowered his gaze. The congee base was simmered to a milky white like jade, dotted with emerald green scallions and crisply fried golden youtiao strips. On the side plate were arranged several crystal clear Tai O dried shrimp. The presentation was excellent.

“No appetite.” He fastened his cufflinks while walking straight toward the entryway without looking sideways, “Running late.”

Because his spirits were poor today, he had called his assistant in advance to drive him back to the company. Plus with Fu Sihan returning to the country today, he didn’t know how many matters he would have to handle.

But just as Shen Yanzhou grasped the door handle, he turned back.

The man stood with hands hanging down, like a big dog kicked aside by its master. His whole body radiated grievance and hurt. Even that messy mop of black hair seemed to droop down with him.

His heart inexplicably softened a bit.

What a hassle.

“What are you standing so far away for? Bring the bowl over.” He hooked his finger.

The man heard the “whistle,” perking his ears and trotting over with the congee to stand before Shen Yanzhou.

“Master.”

“Feed me two mouthfuls.” He raised his delicate chin, silver hair sliding down his shoulder, revealing a pale, slender neck.

Thirty Million carefully blew on it by his lips again and again, confirming the temperature absolutely would not burn this precious porcelain doll, before trembling as he brought it to his lips.

Shen Yanzhou took the spoon into his mouth.

The freshness of chicken broth, the saltiness of ham and the clear sweetness of dried scallops instantly spread across his tongue. The congee was simmered extremely fine, sliding down his esophagus almost without needing to chew.

“Hmm… not bad.” He narrowed his eyes, the faint red at the corners of his eyes blurring in the steam.

Thirty Million quickly fed him a second mouthful, his deep black pupils staring darkly at Shen Yanzhou’s slightly trembling Adam’s apple as he swallowed, his gaze so sticky it was as if his tongue had already licked up.

Shen Yanzhou was not unaware of this nearly offensive gaze. But he was too lazy to scold. This sense of crisis of being watched by a fierce beast while eating, he simply half closed his eyes, letting that dog use his eyes to taste his neck again and again.

Until the congee in the bowl had gone down by half, and the empty, cramping pain in his stomach slightly eased, did Shen Yanzhou turn his head and say coldly: “Enough.”

“I’m leaving. Might not come back tonight.”

Having spoken, he also didn’t care about the man’s disappointed expression, pushing open the villa’s main door without looking back and getting in the car.

During morning rush hour on Connaught Road Central in the Central district, the black Maybach was stuck in a long dragon of traffic, unable to move an inch.

The atmosphere inside the car was extremely low. Assistant Xiao Chen in the front seat sat on pins and needles. The tablet screen in his hands lit up and went dark, went dark and lit up. His eyes kept glancing through the rearview mirror at Shen Yanzhou in the back seat, a look of wanting to speak but stopping himself.

“Um… CEO Shen.” Xiao Chen’s voice was tight, “Up ahead seems like the road is closed.”

Shen Yanzhou leaned against the seatback with his eyes closed resting, not even lifting his eyelids at these words: “Traffic accident?”

“No…” Xiao Chen swallowed a mouthful of saliva, “It’s… there’s a motorcade passing through. The PR department just sent over live video from the scene. Do you want to see…”

“Play it.”

Xiao Chen braced himself and clicked open that live clip already going viral all over Hong Kong.

The originally dead silent car cabin was instantly filled with an exaggerated to the extreme Hong Kong media tone:

“Wow! All viewers open your eyes wide! Fu family crown prince Fu Sihan, returning to Hong Kong in low profile!”

The video background noise was chaotically deafening, reporters screaming in excitement:

“Says it’s low profile, but this spectacle is truly terrifying! Twelve Rolls Royces leading the way, half of Chek Lap Kok airport sealed off by black clothed bodyguards! Furthermore, informed sources reveal that Fu young master’s sudden return to the nest this time is not to fight for family property, but for the number one beauty of Hong Kong circles, Shen Yanzhou!”

Shen Yanzhou opened his eyes, his gaze falling on the tablet screen in the front seat.

In the frame, the camera shook violently.

“Truly ‘a prodigal son’s return is worth more than gold’! Thinking back, Young Master Fu was famous in Lan Kwai Fong for ‘passing through a hundred flowers, not a single leaf touching his body.’ Now he’s actually willing to settle down for Mr. Shen’s sake? This century alliance, I say there’s big drama to watch…”

The noisy voice continued. Xiao Chen seeing Shen Yanzhou’s face growing paler and paler, panicked and fumbled to turn off the video: “CEO Shen, these paparazzi just have loose mouths, I’ll turn it off right now…”

“No need.”

Shen Yanzhou spoke coldly, his gaze moving from the screen to land on the magazine Xiao Chen had casually placed on the passenger seat.

That freshly published Hong Kong Daily, with its loud red and green cover, was impossible to ignore.

“That too,” he stretched out his long, pale hand, palm up, tone indifferent, “bring it over.”

Xiao Chen cried bitterly inside, trembling as he handed the magazine into that hand.

Shen Yanzhou lowered his gaze, looking at the sensational bold black characters on the cover:

Exclusive! Billion dollar crown prince returns to Hong Kong in high profile, squandering thousands in gold just to win Mr. Shen’s smile?

Deeply devoted confession! Fu Sihan: These years, I have thought of him every moment.

And in the middle, that pink heart that had been photoshopped cracked and then forcibly stitched back together.

“Deeply devoted? Thinking of me? Haven’t even met face to face much.” Shen Yanzhou looked at that line of text, a mocking smile curving at the corner of his mouth.

These media outlets that take money to do their jobs, really planning to sing this play into a modern version of Cinderella.

Packaging a madman who takes pleasure in torturing and killing omegas into a deeply devoted, elegant young master of a wealthy family. Shaping him, this victim of forced marriage alliance who was even still plotting to “keep the child, lose the father,” into a lucky one who flew up to the branch.

“CEO Shen.” The assistant in the front seat looked at Mr. Shen sitting in the rearview mirror, his complexion somewhat ugly, carefully opening his mouth, “The PR department just called, said the company hotline has been blown up, all media wanting to book exclusive interviews, and also…”

Xiao Chen pointed outside the window not far away, at the Shen Group tower soaring into the clouds.

“Below the company… the situation doesn’t look right.”

Shen Yanzhou turned his head, looking through the glass at the scene outside.

Before the normally orderly office building entrance, it was already packed so full there wasn’t room for a drop of water.

Black masses of heads surged, colorful umbrellas squeezed together, long guns and short cannons everywhere. Countless paparazzi wearing press badges were like flies that had smelled blood, blocked the entrance.

There were even a few cp fans holding fluorescent light boards that read “Shen and Fu, a hundred years of happiness” and “I’m shipping it,” screaming themselves hoarse in the rain.

Was this the welcome gift Fu Sihan gave him?

The person hadn’t even arrived before his face, yet first he used public opinion to build momentum, roasting him over the fire. If at this time he showed the slightest unwillingness, or a cold face, tomorrow’s headlines would become “Shen Yanzhou doesn’t know what’s good for him,” “shattered dream of entering a wealthy family” and other vicious speculations.

This was forcing him to submit, forcing him to play the role of an obedient, grateful fiance before the public.

“CEO Shen, how about… taking the underground garage?” The assistant was somewhat worried, “These paparazzi when they go crazy are very scary.”

“No need.” Shen Yanzhou raised his eyes.

“This is Shen Group’s door, I am Shen Group’s master.”

“Why should I scurry away like a rat?”

“Stop the car.” he said lightly.

The Maybach slowly pulled over to the side of the road. The Hong Kong media who had been lying in wait here for ages, disregarding the storm, carried their long guns and short cannons, frantically pounding on the car windows.

Bodyguards struggled to open large black umbrellas, forcibly tearing open a gap in the crowd. The car door slowly slid open.

Click click click! Amidst the rising and falling shutter sounds, time was stretched extremely slow.

Shen Yanzhou stepped out from the car. He wore a pair of large sunglasses, covering the dark circles beneath his eyes and that listless coldness. His spine was ramrod straight, chin slightly raised.

That innate, high above, noble aloofness made the paparazzi who had still been rushing forward subconsciously retreat half a step, then surge forward even more frantically.

The questions came one sharper than the next, one more explicit than the next, carrying that particular offensiveness of Hong Kong media:

“Mr. Shen! Mr. Shen look this way! Young Master Fu returned to the country in high profile, are you two close to good news?!” “Mr. Shen! Smile! Marrying into a wealthy family is so happy, why the long face? Are you dissatisfied with Young Master Fu?” “Mr. Shen! I heard Young Master Fu quit smoking and drinking for your sake, true or false? Respond please!”

Countless microphones vied to be first, thrusting toward his face. He heard none of it, walking toward the building with an indifferent expression under the bodyguards’ escort.

The arrogant disdain that looked down on everyone instead stirred these reporters into even greater frenzy, their questions growing more and more explicit.

The phone he was gripping in his palm suddenly vibrated.

Shen Yanzhou’s footsteps paused slightly. He elegantly swiped open the screen.

Sender: J (Jiang Xu).

That intelligence broker again.

J: Good morning, Shen the Great Beauty. Giving you an exclusive scoop for free, as a kickback for that thirty million deal of yours. This is fresh, piping hot insider info, way more exciting than what’s in the newspapers.

J: [image][image]

Shen Yanzhou’s long fingertip tapped open the images.

The first photo was very blurry. Before a floor to ceiling window, with Victoria Harbour’s nightscape as the backdrop, a man sat bare chested on a leather sofa. He had his head thrown back, neck veins bulging, his posture wild and unrestrained. Beside him, two seductive omegas were entangling themselves with him in utmost fawning, the image so obscene it was nauseating.

The second was a close up. The man turned his head, lighting a cigarette. The firelight illuminated half of that handsome yet sinister face. It was unmistakably the Fu family crown prince, Fu Sihan, who all of Hong Kong’s media today were calling “deeply devoted as the sea” and “chaste as jade.”

Below followed text from Jiang Xu: He booked a presidential suite the moment he landed last night, called up a pair of twins. Tsk, Mr. Shen, this fiance of yours really has abundant energy. I’m worried for your waist.

“Hmph.”

Shen Yanzhou looked at the screen and suddenly let out an extremely light cold laugh.

This laugh was extremely brief, yet breathtakingly beautiful. Several nearby reporters were stunned into stupidity, even the shutter sounds slowing by half a beat.

So this was so called “deep devotion”?

On one hand erecting a monument of deep devotion before the media, manipulating public opinion to force marriage. On the other hand playing threesomes in a hotel bed, venting his uncontrollable animal desires.

A physiological nausea surged up his throat.

“Mr. Shen? What are you laughing at? Is there some good news?” The reporter was still cluelessly pressing on.

Shen Yanzhou slightly turned his head. Behind his sunglasses, his eyes were cold as frost. His thin lips parted, about to spit out a “scram.”

Suddenly, an even greater commotion came from outside the crowd.

“He’s here! He’s here!”

“Oh my god! That Phantom… it’s Fu Sihan himself!!”

At the same time, Mid Levels, Central, a private apartment with an excellent view.

Jiang Xu, wearing a bathrobe, lounged lazily on the sofa, holding a cup of freshly ground Blue Mountain coffee. Those always amorous peach blossom eyes watched with great interest the hundred inch projection screen before him.

On screen was the live broadcast spectacle of all Hong Kong.

As the door of that luxurious Rolls Royce opened, Fu Sihan stepped out with his long legs, walking into the camera frame.

One had to admit, this shell was indeed top tier. The dark gray British three piece suit wrapped his straight, tall figure seamlessly. Broad shoulders, narrow waist. Every gesture radiated the invasive hormones of an S class alpha. A face so handsome it angered gods and men alike, enough to make all of Hong Kong’s omegas unable to close their legs.

And standing opposite him, Shen Yanzhou in a black suit, silver hair like snow, cold and noble, beautiful to the extreme.

The camera zoomed in. The two stood face to face.

One domineering and forceful, one cold and breathtakingly gorgeous.

Beneath the sky full of flashing lights and rain curtain, the image of these two standing together had visual impact so strong it was extreme. Completely a match made in heaven, so perfectly paired one couldn’t find a single flaw.

“Tsk, truly two good shells…”

Jiang Xu admired this absolutely beautiful picture, a playful smile curving at the corner of his mouth. His long fingers lightly rubbed the phone pressed to his ear, reporting casually to the person on the other end of the call:

“Boss.”

“As you instructed, those two ‘appetizers,’ I’ve already sent them to Mr. Shen.”

He watched on screen as Shen Yanzhou revealed a cold laugh upon seeing Fu Sihan, unable to help exclaiming: “Mr. Shen’s expression… absolutely perfect. I estimate right now he wants to vomit all over Fu Sihan on the spot.”

“But boss…” Jiang Xu paused, his tone carrying a few more degrees of probing, “although these photos can make him disgusted with Fu Sihan, doing it this ruthlessly, aren’t you afraid Mr. Shen will find out we’re the ones who set this up?”

The man on the other end of the phone was silent for a moment.

In the spacious, luxurious open concept kitchen, a phone with a shatterproof film was propped by the sink, the screen playing the same news footage.

The man wore pink rubber gloves, holding a sponge full of foam, carefully wiping the porcelain bowl Shen Yanzhou used to eat congee.

His gaze was fixed dead on a fleeting image on screen: amidst countless flashing lights, Fu Sihan’s obnoxious hand was resting lightly on Shen Yanzhou’s waist.

Crack.

The porcelain bowl let out an overwhelmed crisp sound, a fine crack splitting open beneath the man’s fingertips.

“Boss?” Jiang Xu heard the noise.

The man’s face was expressionless as he released his hand, tossing that cracked bowl into the trash. He removed his gloves, his eyes sinister:

“So what if he finds out? Nobody gets to snatch people from me.”

“Not even a blood brother.”

“Anyone who touches what’s mine, dies.”