The private banquet with Jiang Wanxing at the "Cloud-Top Celestial Palace"—a night overflowing with ultimate temptation and the mingling of souls—had only drawn to an all-too-reluctant close in the small hours of the morning.
When Lu Chen strode into the Sales Department A of Feichi Group the next day, refreshed and invigorated, he could feel—like an electric current coursing through him—that his very spirit, even his outlook on the world, had been irreversibly transformed since the day before.
If sealing that thirty-million-yuan deal with Jiang Wanxing had given him a preliminary taste of the sweetness of wielding absolute control, then last night's near-sacrificial surrender—body and soul alike—along with her promise of the vast resources and connections that would make any man delirious, had in truth endowed Lu Chen, the newly awakened "urban heart-hunter," with a pair of wings of desire strong enough to carry him soaring into the heavens.
He still wore that faded, cheaply made suit; he still sat in the remote corner of the open-plan office. Yet to his colleagues, Lu Chen now seemed shrouded in an inscrutable aura of mystery. His gaze was calm and still, yet held the depth of one who sees through all; the corner of his mouth would curl into the faintest hint of a smile, chilling to behold, as if a terrifying power capable of toppling worlds lurked behind it.
None embodied this shift more than Wang Hai, the self-styled "Territorial Overlord" of Team A. Having tried—and failed—several times to goad Lu Chen with provocative stares, he'd retreated in humiliating defeat under Lu Chen's unnervingly placid glare. The envy and resentment in his eyes had mutated into something far more primal… a bone-deep terror he dared not acknowledge even to himself.
He even began to wonder in secret whether Lu Chen, that so-called "nobody," might actually possess some soul-stealing sorcery akin to those itinerant charlatans—otherwise, how could he have tamed someone as formidable and ruthless as the old vixen Jiang Wanxing so completely in mere days?
Yet not everyone was as "pragmatic" as Wang Hai.
There were always fools drunk on jealousy and lust, who would recklessly fling themselves into the fray in a pitiful attempt to stake their claim to relevance.
Like Zhao Yuhang.
This self-styled "Crown Prince" of Feichi Group, having suffered the public ignominy of having one wrist "crippled" by Lu Chen days before, did not slump into silence or at least slink away in disgrace. Instead, furious at Lu Chen's triumph in landing Jiang Wanxing's colossal order—and the way the uproar it caused briefly eclipsed news of him, the "legitimate heir"—he became all the more enraged… all the more deranged.
He dared not attack Lu Chen directly—the feral aura and merciless tactics Lu Chen had unleashed that day had carved an indelible psychological scar in his mind.
But Zhao Yuhang was no one to swallow his pride!
If he could not strike Lu Chen head-on, he would prey on someone close to him.
And the first—and really only—target he could imagine was the office's very own flower, Xu Tingxia—the one whose demure sweetness and polite reserve had haunted his every waking thought.
In his view, the only explanation for how that penniless nobody Lu Chen had risen so swiftly and dared to challenge him publicly was that Xu Tingxia, that little minx, must have been backing him up behind the scenes! Perhaps the two of them had long been secretly colluding, scheming in the shadows!
At the mere thought of Xu Tingxia's fresh, angelic features, her captivating curves, and the way she'd always responded to him with just a hint of coy resistance—even though she might have been moaning under Lu Chen's touch—Zhao Yuhang felt as though his heart, liver, lungs, and kidneys were all steeped in a thousand-year-old vat of vinegar: sour, bitter, acrid, and consumed by jealous rage, ready to explode.
Thus, in the warped recesses of his mind—twisted by envy and lust—a malicious, depraved scheme of harassment and revenge against Xu Tingxia quietly took shape.
That very morning, as Xu Tingxia fetched a cup of steaming coffee from the pantry and returned to her desk, Zhao Yuhang's loathsome figure descended upon her as if calculated to the last second, cutting off her path without invitation.
His right hand—still wrapped in thick bandages from Lu Chen's "special treatment"—was stuck cockily in his suit pocket, while his face bore the same sleazy, triumphant leer that Lu Chen had come to know so well.
"Oh, Xia Xia little sweetheart, your outfit today is… tsk tsk… getting more and more delicious," he drawled, his bloodshot eyes roaming unabashedly over the gentle rise and fall of the pale pink knit cardigan stretched taut by her curves, his gaze dripping with unmasked greed and… possessiveness.
When his gaze settled on the swell of ivory softness revealed by the snug knit, he couldn't even help but click his tongue in a lascivious echo, as though yearning to sink his uninjured "claws" into that breathtaking softness and rebound.
Xu Tingxia's fair, delicate face—already pale with concern for Lu Chen—flushed crimson at the sight of Zhao Yuhang's lecherous sneer. Her large, brimming eyes burned with fury and… a flicker of fear.
"Zhao Yuhang! Show some respect!" she snapped, clutching her coffee cup so hard that her knuckles whitened; her voice trembled with indignation. She had donned her favorite floral dress that morning—one that perfectly showcased her pure charm and graceful figure—and even dared a light, refined touch of makeup, hoping to bring a small measure of visual delight and moral support to someone "facing a major life trial." She never imagined she'd become the target of Zhao Yuhang's shameless harassment and vile fantasies.
"Respect? Heh, Xia Xia little sweetheart, my 'respect' for you is higher than the sky and deeper than the sea!" Zhao Yuhang purred, clearly relishing how Xu Tingxia's anger only made her all the more alluring and pitiable. He leaned in another step, closing the distance between them to a dangerously intimate—and intensely ambiguous—proximity.
He could even smell the faint jasmine fragrance mingled with her own youthful scent rising from her heaving chest, a deadly aroma that sent his heart racing.
"But I'm truly curious, Xia Xia," he whispered, lowering his voice to a conspiratorial murmur only she could hear beside her flushed earlobe, "how does a girl as beautiful and… well-endowed as you ever come to fancy that penniless pauper Lu Chen? Could it be… is he all that in bed? Does he… really satisfy you?"
His words were venomous and obscene, laden with blatant insult and defamation. He meant to provoke Xu Tingxia to lose control, to hurl curses at him, so that he could present himself as the injured party with just cause to retaliate.
Yet just as Zhao Yuhang's depraved, anticipatory gaze hovered over the flush of her reddened cheeks—like a ripe apple ready to be plucked—
A voice like a blade of ancient ice, yet strangely serene, cut through the air from just behind him.
"Zhao Yuhang, it seems the lesson about your wrist wasn't scarring enough."
Zhao Yuhang's squat frame froze as if struck by invisible lightning. His puffy, overindulged eyes widened in genuine horror and disbelief.
He didn't even have to turn around to sense the palpable, bone-chilling murderous intent surging toward him like a tidal wave from behind.
And Xu Tingxia—her heart already pounding from Zhao Yuhang's shameless assault—felt it leap even harder, as if desperate to burst free from her chest.
Her teary eyes, shining with a mix of fear and hope, locked onto the figure who had silently materialized behind Zhao Yuhang.
Lu Chen.
He still wore that faded cheap suit, and his expression remained eerily calm. Yet his deep, ocean-black eyes now glinted with a chilling radiance—one that could freeze any soul who met his gaze to its core.
Lu Chen could almost hear the malignant thoughts roiling in Zhao Yuhang's mind—thoughts born of fear, wounded pride, and a desperate need to save face.
"[Dammit! That relentless pauper Lu Chen… why is he here? Wasn't he supposed to be serving that old harpy Jiang Wanxing?]"
"[No way! I absolutely cannot show weakness in front of him! Otherwise, how will I ever survive at Feichi Group? How can I keep any hope of pursuing Xia Xia?!]"
"[But… but that bastard's methods were so brutal! My wrist still aches like hell! What if… what if he really goes berserk again…]"
At the same time, he could hear every beat of Xu Tingxia's racing heart—and the surge of… excitement and hidden longing that coursed through her like electric currents.
"[Lu Chen… he… he actually stepped in to protect me again…]"
"[His gaze… it was terrifying… yet why do I… feel so safe… so… so manly?]"
"[If… if he truly drives that annoying fly Zhao Yuhang away… then… then I…]"
Unbidden, the corner of Lu Chen's mouth curved into that perfect arc of demonic seduction, tempered by the compassion of a savior.
He knew it was time… to teach Zhao Yuhang, that foolish mutt, one unassailable truth—
Some people, he simply could not provoke!
Some women, he dared not even lay a finger on!