Chapter Seven: On Site, Observing...
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In a daze.
Lu Tian woke up once again in the hospital room.
On the bedside table, her phone was charging.
She powered it on.
Dozens of missed calls and WeChat messages from Fei Jing flooded in endlessly.
—[Wife, why didn’t you come home all night? Is it proper for a woman not to return at night?]
—[Sweetie, please reply to me immediately!]
—[Lu Tian, even when throwing a tantrum, there has to be a limit. You said you want to fulfill our daughter’s dream; I’ve also prepared something for you. What more do you want?]
Countless messages followed, all condemning her—the pampered Lady Fei—for lacking gratitude and understanding.
Lu Tian was too weary to read further and deleted them all.
She completed her discharge procedures.
A young nurse reminded her, "Madam, your husband is a pilot, so he probably doesn’t have time to take care of you and the child, but your body is still very weak. You must be careful."
Husband?
Pilot?
They even have... a child?!
Lu Tian felt utterly lost.
The head nurse called the young nurse to the VIP ward, sternly instructing, “The VIP floor has been entirely booked by Mr. Fei, supposedly for Lady Fei—the second young miss of the Lu family who was just brought back to preserve her pregnancy.”
“Be on your utmost alert. Miss Lu Youyou is the apple of their eye. Even if you had a hundred heads, you must not offend her. Understood?”
“Yes, yes.”
As they spoke, they left.
Lu Tian indeed felt weak, leaning against the wall. Once inside the elevator, she broke out in a cold sweat from exhaustion.
Wang Lu called to inquire, “Miss Lu, three days have passed since the week you mentioned. What about the share confirmation document...?”
“Soon.”
Four days remained; she truly had to speed things up.
Returning to the Fei family estate.
On the whiteboard in the children's room, three more vivid red crosses were added.
Housekeeper Zhao followed her to the door, smiling, “Madam, you’ve finally come back. You have no idea—your husband paced back and forth in the living room all night because you weren’t home and even sent the company’s security team out to search the city!”
“Oh, I see.”
Lu Tian barely listened, instead mulling over how to bypass Lu Youyou, the chief secretary, and get Fei Jing to sign the confirmation document.
She pulled out several A4 pages from the foundation’s files...
Seeing her coldness, Zhao frowned, “Madam, your husband fell ill waiting for you to come home but still has to attend a meeting with the company’s executives in the study. Aren’t you going to check on him?”
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“A meeting?”
Exactly—now was the perfect time to slip the confirmation document into the routine files brought by the executives. This would make things easier.
With this thought, Lu Tian immediately told Zhao, “Prepare some refreshments. I’ll personally take them to the study.”
“Oh, I knew it! Madam and sir are so affectionate and care for each other. It can’t be a big misunderstanding that has them at odds.”
A little misunderstanding?
Did even Fei Jing’s servants now view Nan Nan’s death as just a minor incident, not worth mentioning, just like their master?
That prickling pain in her chest felt unbearably ironic!
Twenty minutes later.
Outside the study on the third floor.
“Hmm~ Hubby, you’re so naughty~”
“Ah, don’t press there, baby, it’ll be uncomfortable.”
Through a crack in the door, Lu Tian coldly observed the flirtatious and intimate scene inside.
Lu Youyou wore a fresh-looking JK uniform, her long hair barely covering her scantily clad chest.
A fluffy little dog tail was attached at her hips.
She straddled Fei Jing’s long legs clad in suit pants, rubbing and squealing in a sticky, teasing manner.
“Hubby, didn’t you say my chest was too small? I had a little enhancement. Come touch it, see if you like the feel.”
Debauched. Lewd.
Had Lu Youyou forgotten she was even human in her desperate bid to please a man and climb higher?
Fei Jing leaned back, clearly enjoying himself, and commanded, “Kneel.”
“Hubby~”
“Kneel!” That’s how things went in their circle—everyone played the same game.
Lu Youyou’s eyes fluttered seductively, softly biting her red lips.
Her fragile little body slowly slid downward.
She coquettishly said, “Hubby, if you promise to give me the old house at No. 30 Seaside Road, I’ll play even more interesting games with you, okay~”
A leather whip was slipped into Fei Jing’s hand.
His thin lips curled slightly, and in his obsidian-dark eyes flashed the raw madness of a man.
He said, “Behave well, I’ll consider it.”
Silently, Lu Tian closed the door behind her.
No. 30 Seaside Road.
That was the birthday gift her parents bought for her when she was a child.
Later, Lu Zhi sold it to an abusive man to spite her.
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The abusive man strangled his wife to death on the carousel their father had painstakingly created...
Late at night.
Lu Youyou was brought back to the hospital from the back door, covered in wounds.
There was a knock on the door of the children’s room.
At midnight, Lu Tian marked another red cross on the whiteboard with a red pen.
Fei Jing entered carrying a pot of nourishing, beautifying chicken soup and saw it.
His brows furrowed sharply. Without reason, he gripped her increasingly slender wrist tightly and demanded, “Sweetie, what exactly are you doing?”
Each new red cross looked like a grotesque ghost face, spitting colorless, tasteless venom at him—enough to kill!
“It’s Nan Nan’s forty-ninth day memorial; I have to remember it to avoid mixing up the dates.”
She shrugged off Fei Jing’s grip without so much as a glance.
Cold and indifferent, as if addressing a stranger, her emotions remained unreadable.
She took the chicken soup and deftly changed the subject, “Jing, do you still remember what you promised me the day the incident happened at No. 30?”
That year, the princess’s gift was stained with blood.
The prince hugged her while weeping and vowed, “Sweetie, there’s so little in this world you truly want, but I’ll fight to get every single thing for you!”
“There was a homicide at No. 30; it was unlucky. Nan Nan passed away. I didn’t want any complications, so I sold it.”
“So?”
The soup was steaming hot, yet Lu Tian broke a chicken leg barehanded.
Her pale skin instantly blistered red.
Fei Jing’s face darkened, impatience familiar as ever, “If you like the house on Seaside Road, we’ll just buy the entire street.”
“I only want No. 30.”
Only the courtyard with the flowering crabapple tree her mother had planted by hand.
And the walls of the little house, carved stroke by stroke by her father with Balala the Fairy cartoons.
Buzz.
An anonymous email arrived with a dozen photos.
The first showed the chopped crabapple tree.
The second showed the ruins of the demolished wall, with remnants of the cartoons still visible...
—[Sister, does it hurt?]
—[Whatever you desperately want, I just have to snap my fingers, and my husband will give it to me.]
—[Jealous, aren’t you? But there’s nothing you can do. You’re old and worthless, hogging the spot but doing nothing!]
—[From now on, Lu Tian, listen carefully: I’ll reclaim every bit of the happiness you stole from me, piece by piece!]