Chapter 7: Through Thick and Thin

Xing Jue’s gaze shifted from the doorway back to Si Yao’s face, followed by a mocking smile. “If you think you can handle it, then come.”

But Si Yao couldn’t. Last night, Xing Jue had entered her room and tormented her for quite a while.

Still, she didn’t believe he’d dare, since A Ni was his lifeblood.

Taking a deep breath, her lips brushed closer to Xing Jue’s, and her voice, gentle yet tinged with sultry entanglement, murmured, “Go ahead.”

Her tone remained soft, but Xing Jue easily caught the provocation behind it.

He licked his molars, then bit her lips, so close that their mouths nearly touched. His words were muffled but undeniable: “Sister, have you forgotten? The one thing I can’t stand is provocation.”

Si Yao hadn’t forgotten. Xing Jue couldn’t just not stand provocation; his pride was so high he couldn’t recognize the baseness in his bones.

When he first got together with A Ni, he was indifferent.

But when she turned to someone else, he chased after her, his emotions wholly gripped by A Ni.

Years had passed, breaking up and reconciling again and again.

Si Yao had often heard the rumors in their circles, people saying in front of her that A Ni was adopted, that Xing Jue would be forever ensnared by her.

And indeed, he was utterly ensnared.

Sometimes, drunk, he’d mistake Si Yao for A Ni and ask her,

Why was he always so unpredictable, so hard to please, so difficult to serve?

He was gentle to Xing A Ni, treating her as if she’d melt in his hands, yet vented all frustration at being unable to grasp A Ni’s thoughts directly onto Si Yao.

It was baseness to the core.

Such a base man—Si Yao simply didn’t believe he’d dare.

Sliding down from his bent knee, she wrapped her arms around his waist, her gaze piercing. “I’m provoking you. What of it?”

Si Yao always felt that the older Xing Jue grew, the colder he became—not completely, he still reserved some warmth for A Ni, after all, she was the one he’d tangled with for so many years.

But in the end, it was all… pointless speculation.

He was… too elusive.

Si Yao’s nails pressed hard, leaving a bright red mark across his shoulder and back.

Outside the door, Xing A Ni and Wen Sui had already confronted each other, their quiet pleasantries escalating into loud reprimands.

Xing Jue tossed his muted phone aside; the screen flickered with calls coming in, the outside filled with curses and quiet sobbing, never ceasing.

The two of them were in a storage room separated from the others by a single wall.

Si Yao’s cheeks were flushed, her eyes shimmering with tears.

Xing Jue, malicious as ever, leaned in to whisper, “Keep provoking me, Yao Yao…”

Si Yao covered her face in silence, saying nothing.

The battle outside ended with the proud and unyielding Xing A Ni storming out.

Wen Sui cried softly from behind the wall, utterly useless.

Her crying made Si Yao want to slap her.

At dawn, Si Yao lay discarded on the floor like a broken doll.

Xing Jue leisurely straightened his clothes. “Still want to provoke me?”

Si Yao’s hands trembled as she picked up her ravaged sweater.

Xing Jue squatted, pinching her chin, his eyes narrowed in cold admonition. “Between men and women, once grown, there’s an abyss of power. Random provocation leads to this outcome—do you understand?”

Si Yao tried to break free and put on her sweater.

Xing Jue wouldn’t let go. “It seems you don’t understand; I’ll have to teach you again.”

Si Yao forced a smile. “I understand.”

His hand released her chin, moving to her earlobe, which was swollen and flushed where the blood had faded. He gently squeezed, the heat under his fingers making his eyes darken. “You’d better really understand.”

With that, he got up and left.

Si Yao struggled to put on her sweater, dressed herself, fixed her hair, squeezed out a gentle smile, and followed him out the door.

Returning home, she took a shower, then went out to buy furniture and necessities for Wen Sui.

Wen Sui called in tears, asking who had suddenly come to the house last night.

Si Yao absent-mindedly tossed toothbrushes into the basket, replying indifferently, “Probably his ex-girlfriend.”

“Yao Yao, who’s prettier, her or me? Who does A Jue like more?”

Si Yao casually sifted through some lingerie. “You want the truth?”

“Yes, I want the truth.”

“She’s prettier,” Si Yao replied gently. “But as the old saying goes…”

Her shoulder was suddenly shoved.

Si Yao turned, shopping basket in hand. Xing A Ni had taken off her sunglasses, her expression blank as she stared.

Si Yao smiled softly and continued speaking to Wen Sui on the phone. “If the old doesn’t leave, the new can’t arrive. No matter how pretty, the old is still just old—otherwise, where would the new come from?”

Just like herself.

Utterly abandoned and despised, even calling herself ‘cast-off’ would be too generous.

That’s the fate of the old, and it would surely be Xing A Ni’s fate as well.

She finished the call, reached out her hand, and said, “Long time no see, A Ni.”