Chapter 71: Watching the Show

Jiang Shuzhi pressed both hands against the table, her gaze fixed unwaveringly on Fu Changjun and Fu Juxing. Her teeth ground together audibly. Lei Sen hardly dared to move, as if a blade hovered at his back—any slight movement, and he would be torn limb from limb.

"Fu Changjun, if you dare leave today! You know I am capable of anything, absolutely anything!" she threatened.

Fu Changjun turned his head, giving her a deep, searching look. But Fu Juxing stepped between them, blocking their line of sight. He personally pushed Fu Changjun to the door, opened the office, and found two black-suited bodyguards waiting outside, barring their way. Even so, four or five men swiftly appeared, dragging the guards aside and pinning them to the floor, rendering them immobile.

Fu Juxing said, "Go now, and be careful on the road."

Lei Sen nodded; Fu Changjun glanced at him but said nothing more. As Fu Juxing turned, he found Jiang Shuzhi had silently approached behind him, raising her cane to strike. But this time, unlike before, Fu Juxing didn’t stand still to receive her blows. He grasped the cane and wrenched it from her grip. Glancing at the cane in his hand, a mocking smile curled his lips. "Do you still take me for a three-year-old child to beat, scold, and bully without resistance?"

No matter what, Jiang Shuzhi was old now. Fu Juxing had hardly used any strength; yet, in that brief scuffle, she nearly lost her balance. Fortunately, the two by her side steadied her in time.

He looked up, the amusement in his eyes chilling. Jiang Shuzhi involuntarily stepped back. If only someone could see him now—this was who he truly was.

Fu Juxing, composed, stepped forward and held out the cane. Jiang Shuzhi made no move, her glare unwavering.

"Take it," he said, raising his chin, "keep hitting me."

She let out a derisive laugh. "So quick to lose your composure? This is just the beginning; don’t get ahead of yourself."

She reached for the cane, but before her fingers touched it, Fu Juxing released it, letting it clatter to the floor. He smiled and bent close to her ear, murmuring, "Grandmother, you really must keep your composure."

As his words fell, he caught her raised hand in an iron grip, squeezing so hard it seemed he might shatter her bones. Jiang Shuzhi’s face twisted in pain, her eyes burning with loathing.

Fu Juxing called for Huang Wen. "You—escort the old lady home. If anything happens to her on the way, you will be held responsible."

Huang Wen swallowed nervously, glancing at him before turning to Jiang Shuzhi. She had brought Huang Wen along, so of course, his orders awaited her approval.

At that moment, Jiang Shuzhi hung her head, staring at the fallen cane, lost in thought. After a long pause, she looked up and glanced outside; all her men had been subdued, and no reinforcements were coming. It seemed this entire floor was under Fu Juxing’s control.

When had he managed to establish such influence within the Fu Group?

Huang Wen, finally realizing, picked up her cane and handed it to her. She didn’t take it. After a moment’s silence, Jiang Shuzhi said, "I’ve done and said all I needed; I won’t disturb you further, President Fu. I hope you live up to everyone’s expectations and that the Fu Group flourishes in your hands."

Fu Juxing called for someone to escort the old lady home, personally walking her to the building entrance and watching her leave before returning to his office.

Jiang Shuzhi sat alone in the car’s back seat, patiently fingering her prayer beads. Yet after only one round, she could no longer control herself and, in a flash, yanked the string, snapping the beads. They scattered over her lap, her face contorted with barely contained fury.

She drew a deep breath, striving for calm. "Take a detour to the Nanhai Hall," she ordered, then called Aunt Song to wait for her there.

...

After Jiang Shuzhi left, Fu Yanchuan came upstairs. His position hadn’t changed, but with the addition of a CEO, the office arrangements needed adjustment. He cleared out his own office, redecorated, and handed it over to Fu Juxing. He himself moved down a floor to join the other two executive presidents.

According to Qin Guang’s proposal, the two other executive presidents were chosen from among senior management—whoever had the strongest performance would be appointed.

Fu Yanchuan asked, "Take a look at the office—anything else you need?"

"It’s very good, thank you, big brother." Fu Juxing stood behind the executive chair, one hand on its back, looking over. His gaze swept over the two young women left by the old lady, and he lifted his chin. "You two, go out for now. When Lei Sen returns, he’ll assign you your duties. Do you know how to serve tea? If so, make a fresh pot and bring it in."

They answered in unison and withdrew.

Fu Juxing invited Fu Yanchuan to sit. "Those two were brought by the old lady."

Fu Yanchuan nodded. "I know—they were picked from a nightclub. Both are college students, but they have little real ability. Most likely, she wants to plant them as spies at your side, to trip you up."

Fu Miao had already warned him: the old lady hoped Fu Juxing would make a major mistake at work, even scheming to have the two women seduce him. Even if they failed, she could easily find an opportunity to drug him or otherwise sabotage his relationship with Lin Wanbai.

"I noticed. But I’m not so easily caught out."

"Don’t worry. I’ve already spoken with them in advance. Not only won’t they trip you up—they’ll help cover for you in front of the old lady."

Fu Juxing smiled faintly. "Big brother, you always think things through."

"Grandmother is blinded by hatred. Right now, the Fu Group can’t afford another misstep. Whether she admits it or not, from the moment you entered the Fu family, you became one of us. Everything you do represents the family. So, I don’t think what she’s doing now is right; she’s lost all reason. My father and I have agreed: it’s time to weaken her authority."

Having been in the company for years, Fu Yanchuan was well aware of every connection—he knew exactly who belonged to the old lady’s camp.

In fact, the aftermath of Fu Yanming’s incident had already forced Jiang Shuzhi to cut off many branches; for example, in the boardroom, over half the shareholders once had close ties to her, giving her absolute power there. Whatever she asked for, she got.

But now, following a major reshuffle—especially with Chao Sheng’s Qin Guang refusing to comply—her influence was waning.

Internally, though, nearly all key positions were still Jiang Shuzhi’s people, especially the financial director and the head of HR, both of whom were her confidants and longtime loyalists. With both finance and personnel in her grip, most of the company still looked to her.

Fu Juxing said, "Now is the best time to sever the roots. If we miss this chance, it’ll be much harder later."

"Exactly. And I’ve managed to catch the financial director with solid evidence." He produced a thick file. "He’s been embezzling company funds for years, with several falsified accounts—enough to put him away for life."

"I suspect Grandmother has always held something over him—his Achilles’ heel. So, there’s no point in threatening him further. The only way is to get him to confess."

Fu Juxing flipped through the file and nodded. "Who will be the whistleblower?"

"I have my methods."

"Company matters are your domain. If you need anything from me, just say the word. As long as I have the authority, I’ll do my utmost to support you."

Fu Yanchuan’s expression remained sober. The task at hand unsettled him—he had no taste for infighting, only wishing for peace at home and for the company to weather this storm. But Grandmother had lost her mind; this was the only way to bring closure.

Soon after, the two other executive presidents came up to introduce themselves to Fu Juxing. Both were highly capable generalists, and both were loyal to Fu Yanchuan. After introductions, they got straight to business, discussing how the Fu Group might regain its footing.

The company held several plots of land awaiting development. One in particular, given its location and surroundings, was ideal for a retirement home. With the company’s public image in tatters, the best way to salvage it was to embark on a project of social good, in line with government policy—a gesture sure to be appreciated by political leaders.

At present, the Fu Group was caught between a rock and a hard place.

Fu Juxing pondered. "Hasn’t the government been promoting environmental protection lately? I recall the Lin Group is launching an Eco-City project today. We could consider partnering with them. The investment required is significant, though, and the returns are uncertain."

Fu Yanchuan paused. He’d heard of the project—it was purely a response to government policy, with a hard-to-calculate return. In the past, they might have joined in, but now, with the company’s finances strained, pouring funds into this would mean shelving other projects, risking a broken cash flow.

Yet this project was also an opportunity.

Fu Juxing swept his gaze over the three men. "We have time to consider that. For now, let’s focus on the retirement city plan. I think it’s excellent—and meaningful."

After a brief discussion, noon arrived unnoticed. Fu Juxing prepared to return to his private apartment to check on the old man.

When he arrived, Lei Sen had just settled Fu Changjun in. The apartment, over a hundred square meters, was well-appointed and close to Juxing’s own home. He’d purchased it for work convenience but had never lived there—everything inside was new, the décor simple.

"What did the doctor say?" he asked.

Lei Sen replied, "Recovery will be slow. Given his age, it’ll be hard to say if he ever fully recovers."

Fu Juxing had expected as much and nodded. "Go pick up lunch from Imperial Cuisine; I called ahead. Just collect it."

"Alright." Lei Sen left.

Fu Juxing went to the kitchen, boiled water, and made two cups of tea. When he emerged, Fu Changjun was saying, "The air of freedom is truly refreshing."

He set the tea on the table and took a seat on the sofa. Fu Changjun seemed to recall something and asked, "Does Xiaobai know?"

"I told her. She even insisted I hire more bodyguards for you, just in case Jiang Shuzhi tries something dirty again."

He nodded. "Xiaobai truly loves you; her concern for me as an old man makes me happy, too."

Fu Juxing smiled. "She won’t love the wrong person."

Fu Changjun’s smile faded, and he regarded him solemnly. "Are you changing your plans?"

Fu Juxing lowered his gaze to the tea leaves floating in his cup, tapping the glass. "No."

After a moment, he smiled. "From now on, we’ll just sit back and watch the show. You can finally enjoy some peace and comfort." He gripped Fu Changjun’s hand. "I’m sorry for what you’ve endured."

"It’s nothing compared to what you’ve suffered. It’s I who owe you." Fu Changjun hesitated, as if wrestling with something, before finally speaking. "There’s something I haven’t told you. I wanted to confirm before bringing it up, but in my current state, you’ll have to investigate yourself."

"What is it?"

"I suspect something’s wrong with Jiang Shuzhi’s Buddhist hall."

Fu Juxing narrowed his eyes.

Fu Changjun continued, "Your parents vanished without a trace—we never found any leads, despite all our efforts and connections. I suspect..."

"You suspect the answer is close at hand?"

He nodded.

"Alright, I understand. I’ll look into it."

Fu Changjun took a deep breath. "Let’s hope they’re still alive."

Fu Juxing said nothing. At this point, he no longer held out hope for his parents.

He stayed for lunch, then returned to the company.

...

That evening, Lin Zhouye didn’t return home—Fu Yanchuan had invited him to dinner. Though he despised Jiang Shuzhi, he wouldn’t blame the innocent. The video incident had been less than honorable on Fu Yanchuan’s part, but he could understand—everyone knew how much he cared for Xiaobai.

A moment’s loss of reason was only human; after all, he was a man.

He only blamed himself for falling into Fu Miao’s trap, landing him in this awkward, passive position.

The two met for Japanese food in a private room with a pot of sake. Fu Yanchuan arrived early. When Lin Zhouye entered, he looked genuinely pleased, rising to greet him. "I thought you wouldn’t agree to see me."

Lin Zhouye shrugged off his coat and hung it up. "So you know you overstepped?"

He sat, sipping a glass of water.

Fu Yanchuan poured him some sake. "I’ll say up front—I’m here on assignment. You might not like what I have to say."

Lin Zhouye knew what was coming—the matter of his marriage to Fu Miao.

"So, let’s get the unpleasant topics out of the way first, then drink. How’s that?"

Lin Zhouye chuckled. "Go on."

Fu Yanchuan asked, "What are your intentions now? You two are already legally married; whether there’s a ceremony or not, you’re husband and wife. That’s a fact that can’t be changed, so the wedding’s importance is diminished."

"How did you end up marrying her so easily in the first place?"

Lin Zhouye snorted. "You have the nerve to blame me? You know full well what tricks your sister pulled. I did it for Xiaobai’s reputation—I didn’t want her hurt."

"Fair enough. So, what do you propose?"

"The wedding can go ahead, but on one condition: all those videos must be deleted. I’ve only ever cared about one thing. If she’s so desperate to marry me, I can give her the title—it’s nothing to me."

Fu Yanchuan stared at him in silence.

Lin Zhouye looked up. "Why are you staring at me?"

"I’m wondering if you’re gay, or just in love with Xiaobai. Since I’ve known you, you’ve had no women around except your secretary, An Ning."

"Isn’t Fu Miao a woman?"

"That doesn’t count—you married her for Xiaobai’s sake."

"So what wild notions are you entertaining?"

Fu Yanchuan’s expression crumpled after a few seconds, and he burst out laughing, then feigned seriousness, pointing at him. "I suspect you have a taste for men."

Lin Zhouye laughed heartily, shaking his head. "If I did, you’d be the first target."

At that, both men laughed together, sharing a long moment of levity.

Finally, Fu Yanchuan sobered and said, "So, you do like Xiaobai."

Lin Zhouye’s smile lingered; he didn’t look up, just sipped his drink. "Some things are best left unsaid. I’m her uncle."

Fu Yanchuan let the matter drop.

He rang for the waiter, and soon the dishes arrived. As they ate, the conversation turned to Fu Juxing. Fu Yanchuan relayed his intentions. "He’s genuine—I can see he truly loves Xiaobai, no less than anyone else."

"Who’d have thought," Lin Zhouye said, setting down his chopsticks and taking a drink. "I didn’t expect he had it in him."

"Indeed." Fu Yanchuan poured him another drink. "So, tell me—how many people have you placed in the Fu Group?"

Before Lin Zhouye could reply, he continued, "We could work together—help me root out Grandmother’s people from the company."

Lin Zhouye looked up. "If you’re truly set on this, I can help."

Fu Yanchuan extended a hand. "Then here’s to our partnership."

"Really?"

"Of course. I trust you won’t stoop so low as to swallow the Fu Group whole."

"Don’t put a halo on my head. Desire is an unpredictable thing."

Fu Yanchuan smiled, rose slightly, and grasped his hand. "Come on, brother—cheers to our alliance!"

That night, the two drank heavily.

Fu Yanchuan returned late. Fu Miao was waiting in his room, thoughtfully preparing hangover soup.

"What are you doing in my room?"

"I was waiting for news. So? What did Lin Zhouye say?"

He took off his jacket and loosened his tie. Fu Miao brought over the soup. "Drink this first. Sit down."

She helped him sit. Fu Yanchuan took a sip and set it aside. "I want warm water."

"This is better for you."

"I just want warm water." He frowned.

Fu Miao tutted but complied, bringing him a glass. "Here. You’re so hard to please."

He drained it in one gulp. "He said as long as you don’t cause trouble, he’ll let you keep the title—you can have it."

"What do you mean?"

Leaning back, he looked at her. "Delete all the videos—don’t keep a single one. And as for Grandmother’s copies, you’d best find a way to recover them. Erase everything."

"How can I? What if he goes back on his word?"

"How long do you think you can threaten him with these tricks? If you really want something with him, do as I say—otherwise, even if you marry him, it won’t last."

Fu Miao met his gaze, then looked away. "But even if I want to delete them, how can I deal with Grandmother? I can’t get them back."

"You pride yourself on being clever—now’s your chance to prove it. Miao, you’re my sister. I want you to be happy. Lin Zhouye is a decent man—with principles and integrity. If you marry him, I’m not worried he’ll mistreat you. But you must work on yourself—put away your bad temper and schemes. If you treat people sincerely, you’ll eventually be rewarded."

Fu Miao rolled her eyes. "Are you really the one to lecture me? Aren’t you a failed example?"

Fu Yanchuan didn’t argue, just chuckled quietly. "But at least Xiaobai doesn’t see me as an enemy. I’m sure I have a place in her heart."

"You’re so optimistic."

"What else can I do? Does it make you happy to watch the person you love despise you?"

Fu Miao said nothing, waving him off. "I’ll think of something. The videos in Grandmother’s hands are a ticking time bomb. I’m not at ease, either. She’s become so extreme lately, considering nothing but herself. How could she become so obsessive at her age? Why is she so wary of Fu Juxing? We’ve always suppressed him, never letting him grow—so why now?"

Fu Yanchuan thought, perhaps it was guilt—Jiang Shuzhi had committed too many wrongs. The older she grew, the more she feared retribution, her heart troubled beyond measure.

He rubbed his temples. "Go. I need to rest."

"Alright. Good night."

"Good night."

...

The following days were relatively calm. Jiang Shuzhi made no moves. Fu Yanchuan quietly arranged matters, waiting for the right moment. If they were to move against her, it had to be done in one blow—any slip, and there might be no second chance.

Fu Juxing even found time to accompany Lin Wanbai for a thorough prenatal checkup. Because the pregnancy had been discovered late and she had drunk alcohol early on, there was concern about possible effects. Thankfully, the results showed the baby was healthy, and everyone breathed easier.

Lin Wanbai, after a week at home, grew restless. Madam Rong forbade her from going out, and her guzheng teacher, who used to come once a week, now came three times. Once she regained her health, Lin Wanbai wanted to study at her teacher’s music academy, but the family wouldn’t allow it, insisting she stay home.

Pregnancy felt like prison; though she was unhappy, she accepted it was a turbulent time and didn’t want to cause trouble. She enrolled in online courses on infant care and bought many books, keeping herself busy.

She wasn’t entirely confined. With Madam Rong’s company, she could go out two or three times a week.

She prepared two rooms—one as a playroom and one as a nursery. With six months to go, she had plenty of time to decorate, designing the rooms herself, favoring a girl’s style, as she instinctively believed it would be a daughter. She shared her designs with Fu Juxing and Lin Jingyu, then began work. No major renovations were needed, just some added touches, so she hired a carpenter to work two hours each afternoon.

With her own projects, she was less bored. Madam Rong reported her every move to Fu Juxing, leaving nothing out. For safety, they even installed more cameras around the house.

...

That night, Fu Miao slipped out of her room and crept into Aunt Song’s quarters. After days of observation, she confirmed all the videos were kept with Aunt Song. Earlier, she had drugged Aunt Song’s tea with a strong sedative; at this hour, she wouldn’t wake easily.

It was two-thirty in the morning. The Fu residence was utterly silent—everyone asleep.

Evading the cameras, Fu Miao hurried to Aunt Song’s room and slipped inside. By the dim light of her phone, she searched the bedside table and found the laptop. She glanced at Aunt Song, who lay with her back turned, showing no reaction—proof she’d used enough sedative; thunder wouldn’t wake her.

Fu Miao sat cross-legged, powered on the laptop, and entered the password—Aunt Song’s birthday, which she’d long since memorized.

The files were plain to see. The videos were on the desktop, but simply deleting them would arouse suspicion; she had come to install a virus that would later erase all data, videos included.

Installation was quick. Once done, she shut down, returned the laptop, and carefully searched for any USB drives, determined to leave no loose ends.

Just as she was rifling through drawers, a hand appeared before her, dropping a USB drive into her palm. "Is this what you’re looking for?"

Startled out of her wits, Fu Miao screamed, heart nearly stopping.

She spun around to see Aunt Song’s pale face, ghostly in the dim light.

Suddenly, the lights blazed on. The door swung open, and Jiang Shuzhi entered, expressionless, staring her down.

Fu Miao’s heart sank.

It was over.