As the wind subsided, Fu Xuanliao strode forward, grabbed Shi Meng's arm, and pulled him down from the windowsill. Without looking back, he carried him into the house.
The movements were far from gentle. He was stunned for a few seconds when he was thrown onto the bed. When he came to his senses, he rushed to the picture frame next to him and hugged it tightly as if afraid it would be taken away.
Fu Xuanliao also climbed onto the bed, pinning Shi Meng down and forcing him to let go by pulling on his shoulders: "Aren't you supposed to be so capable? Aren't you supposed to destroy things you hate? Why are you keeping this painting? Huh?"
He was breathing heavily, his voice rough and fierce, clearly enraged, and he was using force without any restraint.
His shoulder blades were being squeezed painfully, making a cracking sound as if they were about to dislocate, but Shi Meng was not afraid. He used all his strength to protect the painting: "This is...my painting." He gritted his teeth and said intermittently, "Mine, it's my...my painting."
Fu Xuanliao's eyes turned red with anxiety: "I'll give you ten million, I'll give you ten million, just give it to me."
In the struggle, Shi Meng turned her head and looked at Fu Xuanliao with a cold glint in her eyes.
"I won't sell." He raised the corners of his lips in pain, his smile both triumphant and pale. "Don't even mention ten million, even if you offer a hundred million or a billion, I still won't sell."
When neither side backs down, the result is a lose-lose situation.
To protect the painting, Shi Meng held on tightly to one position, her shoulders and neck bruised and battered. Fu Xuanliao was in an even worse state; when he lifted Shi Meng down from the windowsill, the painting frame had hit his face, and during the struggle, the frame's edge had cut his hand. Now, his forehead and cheek were swollen, and the wound on his hand was still bleeding, making him look quite ferocious.
Although this had happened often before, it was always just playful teasing—a little bite, a scratch—which could even be categorized as foreplay before sex. This time, however, it was serious. The atmosphere in the room was tense, their breathing heavy and intertwined, as if they were about to start fighting again at any moment.
Fu Xuanliao finally felt bored and got out of bed first.
Once I caught my breath, I had the strength to look for the shoe that had been kicked off sometime during the night.
Walking around to the other side of the bed, Fu Xuanliao saw that Shi Meng was still stubbornly holding the painting and not moving. Remembering how he had been saying "mine, mine" earlier, he sneered, "That's right, it cost ten million. Legally speaking, this painting is indeed yours."
Shi Meng didn't say anything. Fu Xuanliao saw his fingers, which were gripping the frame of the painting, twitch. Fu Xuanliao couldn't help but say, "If you hate Shi Mu so much, why don't you just destroy this painting?"
Shi Meng suddenly sat up and glared at him, her eyes wide: "This is my painting!"
"Okay, okay, it's yours, it's yours, alright?"
Not wanting to argue with someone who was not in his right mind, Fu Xuanliao stepped into his shoe and walked out.
"Where are you going?" Shi Meng was afraid he would run away, so she wanted to follow him.
"Bandage it up." Fu Xuanliao held up his still-bleeding hand, then raised his chin and pointed to the bed. "Be careful your painting doesn't get stolen."
Shi Meng turned around in surprise again, clutching the picture frame with both hands, looking both pitiful and ridiculous.
As they reached the door, Fu Xuanliao suddenly remembered something and turned back, saying, "Don't you have a painting of lilies of the valley?"
Shi Meng seemed to be stunned for a moment, then turned her head and looked at him with a puzzled expression.
"Then it's there." Confirming through his eyes, Fu Xuanliao said with a smile, "It was a good painting, but it's a pity I burned it."
Upon seeing Meng's shoulder tremble violently, Fu Xuanliao finally felt a surge of vengeful pleasure.
He couldn't help but want to make Shi Meng feel even more pain: "I've forgotten what that painting looked like, after all, the painting and frame were burned to ashes."
Just like you destroyed my freedom with your own hands four years ago.
As Fu Xuanliao walked down the wooden stairs, his smile faded. The relaxation after the scuffle did not bring him any comfort.
After the fleeting pleasure fades, all that remains is a heart full of desolation and a body in despair.
It's not hard to guess Shi Meng's motive for using that painting as a bargaining chip, because four years ago he knew that the bond of interest was the strongest, and he knew to use a contract to bind himself to someone. Now he's using a painting as a bargaining chip to force me to come over. He's quite clever.
So when Fu Xuanliao suggested destroying the painting, he was also sweating bullets. On the one hand, he thought that if he didn't have the painting, he wouldn't be under Shi Meng's control anymore. On the other hand, he was afraid that Shi Meng would really destroy the painting if he went crazy.
As for Shi Meng himself, he certainly didn't want to die, otherwise why would he have orchestrated this whole thing?
Having reached this conclusion, Fu Xuanliao didn't even realize he felt a sense of relief before calming down and continuing to think. He still hoped that the painting titled "Flame" was safe and sound; as long as it remained, there was a chance to reclaim it.
Fu Xuanliao, realizing he had unconsciously used the word "seize," gave a helpless twitch of his lips.
It was originally his property, and now he has to steal it. This world is truly surreal.
The first-aid kit was kept in a storage room near the restaurant. When he passed by, he ran into Shi Sihui, who was drinking on the island. She glanced at Fu Xuanliao's hand and showed an "I knew it" expression. She pulled out the bar stool next to her and gestured for him to sit down and talk.
Since he wasn't planning to go up anytime soon, Fu Xuanliao sat down, placed his first-aid kit on the table, opened it, took out iodine and cotton swabs, and skillfully disinfected his wound himself.
Once upon a time, Fu Xuanliao thought that exposing his wounds in front of others was a very incompetent and even shameful thing. Now he can do it calmly without changing his expression. It turns out that one can gradually get used to being embarrassed.
"I was wondering why there was such a commotion just now." Shi Sihui swirled her wine glass, a half-smile on her face. "You two have been at it for over four years, haven't you had enough yet?"
The wound came into contact with the medicine, and the pain receptors tightened again. Fu Xuanliao frowned and said, "You should ask him that."
Shi Sihui took a sip of her wine: "That's right, you've already proposed terminating the contract."
Each lost in their own thoughts, the silence continued until Fu Xuanliao finished bandaging his wound and closed his medicine box.
Fearing it would be too late, Shi Sihui spoke first, tentatively asking, "You haven't forgotten my brother, have you?"
Legally speaking, she has two younger brothers, but Fu Xuanliao knows that the younger brother referred to here cannot be the one upstairs.
Fu Xuanliao looked up at her, as if asking her with his eyes what she meant.
Shi Sihui smiled knowingly: "If you had forgotten, why would you have brought up terminating the contract... Turns out I asked a pointless question."
Thinking back to last time, it was also here, and the situation was almost the same. One of us was drinking, and the other was carrying medicine for his injuries. At that time, we were wary of each other, and neither of us dared to reveal the truth. Now that the matter of terminating the contract has been put on the table, it has eliminated unnecessary concerns.
Fu Xuanliao's lack of denial was tantamount to admission, so Shi Sihui confidently revealed, "When my younger brother was critically ill, he also underwent bone marrow matching, do you remember?"
Even though he didn't want to mention those dark days, Fu Xuanliao still thought about it carefully: "Hmm, didn't they say they weren't matched?"
"The doctor said that the best bone marrow match is a perfect match between siblings, so he and I were among the first to get tested for matching, but unfortunately I wasn't a match."
"He...wasn't he also not a suitable candidate?"
"Probably not."
"should?"
“Because none of us have seen his test results.” Shi Sihui suddenly laughed, as if mocking, “My matching results are still with my mom after all these years, while his results are just a verbal statement from my dad saying ‘incompatible.’ Isn’t that interesting?”
Fu Xuanliao frowned: "But if the match is successful, there's no reason not to save them."
After all, it's not a surgery like a kidney transplant that would cause significant damage to the donor's body.
“Yes, that’s why I said it probably didn’t match.” Shi Sihui sighed. “But the fact that the test results were hidden has always been a thorn in my mother’s side. She always felt that my father was hiding something.”
As he listened to this, Fu Xuanliao fell into thought. After a short while, he came to his senses and said casually, "Why are you telling me about your family matters?"
Shi Sihui raised her glass and made a toasting gesture in the air: "We'll be on the same side soon, so I'm just giving you a heads-up and showing my sincerity."
Since it involved human lives, Fu Xuanliao didn't find it interesting.
However, this incident took root in his mind and strengthened his resolve to meet with Shi Huaiyi alone.
However, Shi Huaiyi was even busier this week. His assistant answered the phone, and when he called, the assistant was either in a meeting or resting. He was busier than the president.
Li Bihan took the initiative to contact him and asked if he wanted to come over for a visit.
Thinking back to the previous attempt to win him over without reaching a conclusion, Fu Xuanliao hesitated for a moment before saying, "Let's try another place, just in case something else happens."
This means there's room for discussion. Li Bihan laughed on the phone and said, "You're so thoughtful. When I get back to you, your uncle will be home, and I'll talk to him about terminating the contract."
Although no one said it outright, everyone knew that the two sides needed each other's help and were about to reach a cooperation agreement.
When his parents asked about it when he got home, Fu Xuanliao told them the gist of the matter. Jiang Rong sighed and said, "Now, the only person who can speak up for you in front of your Uncle Shi is your Aunt Li."
Fu Qiming, however, disagreed: "Don't meddle in their family affairs. We had a good talk last time, and the Shi family has also softened their stance. If we wait a little longer, the contract will be terminated on its own."
Fu Xuanliao asked, "Wait, how long?"
Fu Qiming frowned deeply, unable to answer.
“I can’t wait any longer,” Fu Xuanliao said. “I’ve waited for more than four years, that’s long enough.”
When he told Shi Sihui that he had forgotten, it wasn't entirely a lie.
Last night, as he lay in bed with his eyes closed, he tried to recall what Shi Mu looked like, but he realized that he couldn't even remember what Shi Mu looked like clearly.
This sense of crisis about forgetting and breaking promises made Fu Xuanliao confront the terrifying nature of time for the first time.
Time can fade memories, numb one's senses, and even create an illusion that makes one unconsciously indulge in it.
Now he has come to his senses and looks back on the past four years when he lived in a daze, getting used to every Saturday as if he were used to being ashamed. Wasn't that a kind of decadence?
Fu Xuanliao, eager to escape, was threatened by Shi Meng with a painting on the last Saturday before the Spring Festival. He had no choice but to rush to Shi's house, and his mood was extremely bad.
On the large bed covered with dark blue sheets, Fu Xuanliao held Shi Meng's chin, his eyes blazing with anger: "After all these years, aren't you tired of it yet?"
Shi Meng looked up at him, feeling the pressure and pain, but gave a cold smile: "I'm not tired of it, I never will be."
On a cold winter night, the temperature difference between indoors and outdoors is large, and a layer of damp condensation forms on the windowpane.
Fu Xuanliao rubbed Shi Meng's lips almost roughly with his fingertips until they began to turn red and the coldness turned into burning heat. Then he moved to another spot and caressed the flame tattoo on Shi Meng's left rib, sometimes fierce and sometimes intimate.
In fact, Shi Meng can no longer remember how she felt when she got the tattoo, whether it hurt or not, whether she was excited or looking forward to it.
After he finished, he hid it for a while so that Fu Xuanliao wouldn't see it, although he was eventually discovered.
But so what? Fu Xuanliao can't escape now anyway.
"You like me that much?" As if seeing through his thoughts, Fu Xuan asked without thinking, "I burned your painting, and you still want me to sleep with you?"
Her eyes twitched, and she closed them briefly. When she opened them again, they were wet with tears, perhaps from the shame of having her last veil of modesty lifted.
This reaction was unexpected by Fu Xuanliao.
He thought that if he told Shi Meng about burning the painting, Shi Meng would at least be angry and wouldn't want to see him. Who would have thought that this person would be so shameless, using the same method to bring him here, dragging him to dangerous boundaries time and time again, letting him lose control.
His response was a strawberry handed to him by Shi Meng.
The fresh strawberries were still dripping with juice. Shi Meng reached out and fed them to him, leaving no room for refusal, and asked him, "Is it good?"
Her clear eyes were filled with innocent, naive expectations.
His response was a forceful kiss from Fu Xuanliao.
It was less of a kiss and more of a retaliatory bite. Fu Xuanliao refused to look him in the eye, and in the struggle, he returned all the strawberries that had been stuffed into his mouth. The soft, mushy flesh was turned into juice by his lips and teeth, mixed with saliva that was hard to tell whose it was, and the excess spilled from the corners of his lips, wetting his face.
Even in this terrible situation, Shi Meng was still laughing.
"It's delicious." He answered himself, then picked a strawberry from the bedside table and held it in front of Fu Xuanliao. "I picked it, want some more?"
Fu Xuanliao turned his head away in disgust, his sneer full of contempt: "Shi Meng, how shameless are you?"
He tried to sever all possibilities between them with the most vicious words, but Shi Meng only paused for a moment before stuffing the strawberry in her hand into her mouth, closing her lips tightly and chewing slowly.
Strange, it's bitter, even though it was very sweet when it was first picked.
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