Chapter 6

When she reached the bottom of the stairs, Xu Zheqian lifted her head and glanced upward.

Her little uncle was still standing where she’d left him, but instead of moving, he stood frozen, head bowed, lost in thought.

She blinked, puzzled.

Wasn’t he going to see Little Aunt? Why is he just standing there in a daze?

“Zheqian, come here—we’re leaving.”

From the corner of the hallway, a striking woman appeared, her beauty set off by a cheongsam that hugged her figure.

Her name was Bai Chuyue, eldest daughter-in-law of the Xu family, wife to Xu Wangzhi’s elder brother.

Behind her followed another woman, refined and gentle, with delicate features.

She was Bai Chuqi, eldest daughter-in-law of the Wen family, married to Wen Jianxin’s elder brother.

Not only were they cousins, they had both married into the Xu and Wen families in succession. When they had free time, they often gathered together.

This time, they had been entrusted with planning the wedding of their younger in-laws, working out every detail with painstaking care, determined to make it flawless.

And yet, in the process, they couldn’t help but sigh and marvel—two people so ill-matched, and yet, here they were, bound for marriage.

Xu Zheqian ran to her mother’s side and looked up at her.

“Mom, aren’t we going with Little Uncle?”

Bai Chuyue chuckled softly and stroked her daughter’s head.

“Your little uncle has things to take care of. He won’t be coming with us.”

Bai Chuqi crouched down and looked at the girl with a warm smile.

“Zheqian, what expression did your little aunt have when she saw you?”

Zheqian tilted her head thoughtfully.

“Auntie, Little Aunt isn’t feeling well. That’s why she lost her temper. I don’t blame her.”

At that, Bai Chuqi and Bai Chuyue exchanged a look, a silent of course passing between them.

Everyone knew Wen Jianxin had no fondness for the Xu family. With all that had happened lately, her resentment had only deepened.

Clearly, there would be storms ahead.

Neither woman said it aloud. They simply let their gazes drift apart, content to watch from the sidelines.

After all, it was Xu Wangzhi’s problem, not theirs.

Upstairs, Xu Wangzhi finally moved, striding toward the door.

But he didn’t go in right away. He stood there instead, looming in the doorway.

The weight of his stare pressed on her until Wen Jianxin could stand it no longer. She glanced over impatiently and saw his tall figure silhouetted there.

Her expression soured at once. She turned her head sharply away.

After more than a month of peace, here he was again—haunting her like a restless ghost.

Xu Wangzhi tried to curve his lips into a smile, but the effort failed. His face settled into its usual cold mask as he entered the room.

He crossed to the bed and sat down. She didn’t so much as look at him.

A knot of unease told her this visit boded no good.

Sure enough, he spoke.

“Next month we marry. You—”

“I don’t want to hear your voice. Get out.”

The room went so quiet that the fall of a pin would have echoed.

For a long moment, he said nothing. His eyes roved over her face, dark and unreadable, a flicker of restraint tugging at his expression.

Why does she resist me so much?

Eighteen years—enough to warm even a stone.

And yet between them, the distance only grew.

His hand shot out, clamping around her wrist, forcing her to look up at him. His gaze was sharp, predatory, as if he might devour her whole.

“Wen Jianxin, do you really hate me that much?”

Her wrist ached under his grip. She frowned faintly and answered with chilling calm:

“You already know the answer.”

How dare a man who had done so many vile things even ask such a question?

That month of agony—etched into her very bones. She would never forget.

Marriage? What a joke.

He hadn’t wanted to lose his temper, but the sight of her cold indifference, her utter detachment, fanned his anger until it burned out of control. His grip shifted from her wrist to her chin, fingers digging cruelly, forcing her to face him.

She couldn’t fathom what madness had seized him this time.

He asked. She answered.

And when the answer displeased him—he broke her.

He was like a man split in two, all sick obsession and fractured rage.

Pain shot sharp beneath her chin. She couldn’t help the crease in her brow, though she bit back any sound.

Then his voice, low and furious:

“What’s wrong with me? What makes me so unworthy that you hate me this way?”

Abruptly, he let go and turned his back, his shoulders rigid.

“You should know I’ll have you no matter what. Resistance is useless. Learn to yield.”

She laughed.

It burst out of her—harsh, uncontrollable laughter. The sound tore through her, reigniting half-healed pain, yet she laughed and laughed until she was breathless.

An abuser telling his victim to yield—it was the funniest joke she’d ever heard.

Her laughter, wild and scornful, made Xu Wangzhi’s brow knot tighter. He turned back, glaring down at her.

“What are you laughing at?”

She could barely breathe from it, tears streaking down her face.

“I laugh at you. At your shamelessness. At your foul, festering darkness.”

She wiped her tears, straightened, and met his eyes with a blade’s edge in her gaze.

“What right do you have to say such things to me? You broke me, and now you expect me to forget it all—to be your obedient wife? Xu Wangzhi, a man may be shameless, but you—yours is beyond all measure. And worse, you dress it up, drape yourself in false virtue, pretending to be some refined gentleman.”

She jabbed a finger toward his face, her expression twisted with disgust.

“You make me feel that to stay near you, to breathe the same air as you, is self-degradation.”

His face shifted between light and shadow, until at last it emptied of all expression. He only stared at her, silent, heavy as stone.

And in that silence, Wen Jianxin realized—

He wanted to drive her mad. To stand calmly by while she broke down. To let the world see only her hysteria, so that in their eyes, she would be the unhinged one.

While he—he would become the gentle, tolerant husband who endured her cruelty with patience.

Her stomach dropped.

She had stumbled into his trap.

Her fury surged. She raged, hysterical, half out of control—until she caught the gleam in his eyes.

An assessing gaze. And beneath it, yes—laughter.

Madman.

Yes. That was it. He was insane. And worse, he wanted to drag her into his madness.

But as her rage ebbed, he only looked at her with mild regret.

Clever woman. She saw through it too quickly.

For a moment, he had truly considered it. If she went mad, she would be his forever.

But she was too sharp. She would never walk the path he laid before her.

He loved her and hated her, and his love had grown warped, diseased.

No one could understand him. Not even himself.

Maybe she was right. Maybe he really was disgusting.

But what of it? He couldn’t let her go.

She was bound to him, trapped in the darkness of his obsession.

His lips curved faintly, the barest trace of warmth touching his eyes as he looked at her.

“Xinxin,” he said softly, with a tenderness that almost sounded real.

“What I did before—it was wrong. I’m sorry. I promise, it won’t happen again.”

Wen Jianxin’s expression grew strange.

“You’re apologizing to me?”

“Yes.”

He nodded firmly.

“I was too extreme. I didn’t think of your feelings. From now on, I’ll be careful. I won’t let you be hurt again.”

She listened in silence, her lips curving into a delicate smile, serene as a well-bred lady from a noble house.

“Then,” she asked sweetly, “can you die for me?”