As evening fell, the Royal Court was illuminated with dazzling neon lights, and the magnificent hall proclaimed the guests' prestige.
The night was not yet deep, but the decadent atmosphere awakened people from the fatigue of the day.
The music on the dance floor dominated the hormones of the people dancing there, drowning out all other sounds, and everyone was completely absorbed in it.
A man in a black shirt sat in the center of the dance floor, his gaze indifferent, the liquid in the glass he held reflecting the colorful lights of the dance floor.
"So, what do you think of this new hall? Isn't it different from the others?" Yuan Zhao asked, embracing a hot woman.
"It's different, it's especially noisy." Fu Siming finished his drink in one gulp, picked up his coat hanging on the sofa, and got up to leave.
"You're leaving already?"
Fu Siming didn't answer again and walked straight towards the elevator.
The closed elevator doors finally shut out much of the music.
Fu Siming pinched the bridge of his nose. The next second, the elevator doors opened, and he remembered that he had left the calligraphy and painting that the old man had repeatedly told him to take back in Yuan Zhao's office when he came.
The office area finally quieted down.
Suddenly, a loud crash came from a room, and a woman with blood on her face staggered out of the door. Two burly men chased after her, grabbed her hair, and threw her to the ground.
The woman knelt down in front of Fu Siming. The two men looked up and saw Fu Siming, dressed in extraordinary clothes, realizing that he was probably of noble status.
But most of the guests who come here don't meddle in other people's business, so after bowing and scraping, the two men prepared to drag the woman back to her room.
Song Xingyao's head was spinning, but she knew she couldn't just fall asleep like that. She grabbed the man's trouser leg and pressed herself against his shiny shoes, smearing the blood from her head onto Fu Siming's shoes and trousers.
"Save me," Song Xingyao whispered.
Fu Siming remained expressionless. He was already used to scenes like this; in such settings, the forced prostitution was perfectly normal. He looked at the two men.
Upon receiving the signal, the two burly men quickly stepped forward and pried Song Xingyao's hands off. No matter how strong her will was, she could not withstand the strength of the two men.
Song Xingyao was like a doll with the cotton removed, leaving only a mask, with two strong men each grabbing one of her hands and dragging her along.
Song Xingyao looked up at the man, but she knew he wouldn't come to save her. Someone of his status would never meddle in other people's business.
She stared blankly ahead, seeing only blurry outlines, but she still cried out, "Please, save me."
Fu Siming saw the face obscured by disheveled hair, and it seemed to suddenly overlap with the woman in his memory. "Wait."
The two men stopped. Fu Siming walked forward, squatted down in front of the woman whose face was covered in blood, pinched her chin with his fingers and turned it from side to side, staring at her for a long time.
“Leave her here.”
"But... sir..."
Before he could finish speaking, Fu Siming's face was full of impatience.
"Hey, Lao Fu, you're still here?" Yuan Zhao's nonchalant voice came from behind.
"What's going on? What's all the commotion? Let me join in..." Yuan Zhao's voice suddenly stopped as he stepped forward.
He looked at his friend and nodded, signaling the two men to put Song Xingyao down.
Fu Siming scooped Song Xingyao into his arms and strode towards the underground parking garage.
Yuan Zhao squinted as he watched his friend leave without looking back, a hint of surprise flashing in his eyes.
Song Xingyao felt herself fall into a firm embrace, and the woody scent mixed with the smell of alcohol that wafted into her nose kept her only sliver of consciousness.
Her hands crumpled the elegant black shirt, creating layers of wrinkles, like someone caught in a raging torrent grabbing at a blade of grass on the bank.
Top floor of the First Hospital.
When Yes saw his friend carrying a woman, he was so shocked that his jaw almost dropped, but his professional ethics told him that this was not the time to pry into gossip.
Seeing the emotion on Fu Siming's face, he called for someone to bring over a hospital bed.
When Song Xingyao was placed on the bed, she was still tightly clutching his sleeve. Two nurses came and pried her hands off.
When Yes approached and saw the woman on the hospital bed, he understood the reason.
Fu Siming leaned against the white wall, the bloodstains on his sleeves staining the white wall with his movements, making it look quite eerie.
Yes quickly cleaned and stopped the bleeding from her head wound, then called a nurse to take her for a CT scan. Only then did she look up and ask her friend, "What happened?"
He didn't say anything more, and Fu Siming didn't say anything either. He just took out a cigarette from his pocket and then walked into Ye Si's office.
"You all noticed, didn't you?" Fu Siming extinguished the crimson flames and swirling smoke in the crystal jar.
The last puff of smoke obscured his face, and Yes couldn't see his expression.
"Then what do you want to do?" Yes asked in a deep voice.
Fu Siming didn't answer again. Perhaps he didn't know why he saved her either. Was it because of that face? But what about that face?
He strode out of the office without answering Yes's question.
Fu Siming clearly heard Ye Si's last words: "Siming, you know, she is not her." But without any hesitation, he walked out the door.
He drove back to the Royal Court Nightfall. In Nightfall No. 1 private room, Fu Siming loosened his tie and pounded down his drink in frustration.
He remembered the woman who suddenly disappeared three years ago. The night before, she held his hand and said that they would get married after they graduated. The next day, she was nowhere to be found. Over the years, he had searched for her with all his might, but there was no news at all. It was as if she had vanished into thin air.
Thinking of this, Fu Siming's expression turned angry again. Spicy liquid slid down his lips and dripped onto his black collar.
After finishing his last sip of wine, he called Pei Jing to come and take him to the hospital.
Upon hearing his boss's instructions, Pei Jing, who was just about to eat, had the word "capitalist" flash through his mind, but he still got up and headed to Huangting Yelan.
The First Hospital.
Twenty minutes ago, Song Xingyao opened her eyes. The sharp pain in her forehead pulled her out of her daze. She looked around at her surroundings and seemed to remember that a man had brought her here.
Ye Si walked into the ward with a smile: "You're awake? You have a slight concussion and need to be hospitalized for observation for two days. Do you have any family members?" Ye Si had no idea that Song Xingyao had been brought to the ward by Fu Siming from such a place.
"No," Song Xingyao said, her hoarse voice rising with a surge of blood.
"Who brought me here?" After saying that, Song Xingyao seemed to recall the faint woody scent that lingered around her nose, which made her feel at ease. In her hazy state of mind, she seemed to hear someone calling her "Old Fu".
"You mean Ah Ming? He just left. You should rest here for the next couple of days. There are nurses on duty; just call them if you need anything." Ye Si stared at the woman's pale face, said nothing more, and walked out of the ward.
Upon hearing "Fu" and "Ming," Song Xingyao murmured something.
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