Fu Si Heng had just wrapped up the partnership with the Qi family and was unwinding for once that evening.
He’d left the company at four in the afternoon and come straight here, first venting nearly two months of pent-up stress at the boxing gym.
Don’t let Fu Si Heng’s current suited-and-tied, suave-and-poised businessman image fool you. Back in his youth—and even now—he was a completely different person.
Rock climbing, boxing, surfing, parkour, off-road biking—all his hobbies.
He still kept up the training for them.
But work had been insane the past few months, so he hadn’t been to the boxing gym in a while. Fu Si Heng stayed there for nearly three or four hours, until he was physically drained, before ducking under the ropes and stepping off the platform.
A server had been waiting nearby. As he came down, the server handed him a towel. Fu Si Heng took it to wipe his face and headed to the rest area.
He’d just sat down when someone approached.
“Ahem.” The man coughed first to get Fu Si Heng’s attention.
“Spit it out if you have something to say.” Fu Si Heng had no time for games.
“It’s something.” The man who sat beside him was Wei Yu, Fu Si Heng’s old friend and the club’s owner.
He told Fu Si Heng: “Fu Zheng’s coming today.”
Actually, he was already there.
This was a members-only private club; entry required advance reservations from members.
Fu Zheng had never been to a place like this and called Wei Yu from the entrance.
That’s when Wei Yu remembered.
“I was drunk that day,” Wei Yu said, his tone a bit guilty. “A few days ago, at the new bar I opened—for the opening, y’know. I ran into him somehow, and he asked me about you.”
Fu Si Heng paused mid-wipe and turned to look at Wei Yu.
His features were sharp and rugged, his facial lines aggressive. Fresh from boxing, his eyes were still bloodshot. His brows furrowed at Wei Yu’s words, his expression clearly displeased.
…He looked intimidating as hell.
“Ahem, I was drunk,” Wei Yu quickly defended himself. “And I didn’t tell him anything about you.”
Wei Yu knew Fu Si Heng couldn’t stand his brother.
Even blackout drunk, he hadn’t let slip.
“But I did tell him I’d be here today,” Fu Si Heng said coldly, finishing Wei Yu’s sentence.
“Yeah, yeah…” His little scheme exposed, Wei Yu felt guilty as hell but pressed on. “He said he had something to talk to you about, but you wouldn’t see him…”
“Then guess why I won’t see him.” Fu Si Heng sneered, standing up.
“No idea.” Wei Yu trailed after him. “But he’s your brother. He wants to patch things up, kept begging me. I couldn’t just say no.”
“I think you shouldn’t be so heartless. Brothers don’t have grudges that big.”
“Why not use today to clear the air and misunderstandings? Right?”
Fu Si Heng ignored him, tossed the towel aside, and headed to the gym’s showers.
Wei Yu didn’t realize and thought maybe he’d annoyed him, so he hurried after, chattering nonstop behind him.
Until they reached the shower door, where Fu Si Heng slammed it shut with a bang, nearly smashing Wei Yu’s nose.
Wei Yu: “…”
Close call.
Wei Yu sucked in a cold breath, thinking Fu Si Heng was brutal. No wonder he was pushing 29 and still a virgin.
Was he turning into a pervert from frustration?
He patted his nose gingerly.
–
Ten minutes later, Fu Si Heng emerged.
Freshly showered and in a well-tailored, refined suit that hid his taut muscle lines underneath.
He actually looked pretty decent.
After changing, he left the gym and took the elevator up to the 15th floor.
Blue Smoke Bay, S City’s largest and most luxurious entertainment club, had every facility imaginable: boxing gym, spa, bar, private cinema, rooftop pool—the works.
The 15th floor housed the private lounges, accessible only via fingerprint scan by the guiding server.
Today’s friend gathering was small.
With Fu Zheng, maybe seven or eight people tops.
But when the server opened the door, the first thing Fu Si Heng saw was an unfamiliar face.
A woman he’d never seen before appeared in his line of sight the instant the door pulled open.
Her face was porcelain-pale, features delicate and pure.
She stood under the bar lights, bathed in a warm yellow glow that gave her a hazy halo. Someone tried chatting her up; her eyes flashed mild panic as she stepped back, waving them off. She seemed to turn her head and call Fu Zheng’s name.
Fu Zheng was talking to someone nearby and hurried over when he heard. She slipped behind him, head down, tugging uncomfortably at her skirt.
The skirt was very short, barely covering her thighs, exposing a stretch of slender, shapely leg. The room’s AC blasted cold air, making her thighs quiver faintly at the roots.
She looked skinny, but actually had a nice amount of soft flesh.
…
Fu Zheng really was a moron with zero brains—all his dirty intentions plastered on his face. No need to guess.
Boring. Idiotic.
Like a fucking fool.
Fu Si Heng scoffed and closed the lounge door.
