Chapter 32: The Brawl

Now that trouble has struck, she doesn’t know what to do. If you dare to be the other woman, you’d better have the guts to stand up to the wife.

“Where can you hide? Do you plan on hiding until the child is born?” Lian Youyou’s frustration was palpable. “Should I call you foolish or naive? If you want to find a backer in this circle, at least do your research. Even if you’ve been blinded by Fan Chi’s sweet talk, you should at least know what kind of temper Qu Wuyan has, right? Why would you, so soft and timid, go and provoke her?”

“I know…”

Downstairs, the door resounded with the furious pounding of fists. Quan Qing’er looked down from the second floor and saw Qu Wuyan, flanked by several burly men, kicking at the entrance.

“Youyou, Qu Wuyan is here! What should I do?” Quan Qing’er called out in panic.

In the middle of the night, she really could find trouble…

“Just hold on. I’ll be there right away.” Although Lian Youyou found it troublesome, considering that Quan Qing’er was pregnant, she decided it was best to go over to avoid any mishap.

Perhaps her movements while leaving were too loud, for they woke Lu Ming in the bedroom next door.

He rubbed his eyes and stepped out. “It’s so late—where are you going?”

“Qu Wuyan is going after Quan Qing’er. I’m worried. I’ll check on her.”

“Wait a moment. Let me change and go with you.”

Lian Youyou didn’t wish to trouble Lu Ming at this hour. “No need, I can manage by myself—”

“I must go with you.”

The living room was dark, with only the light from the entryway illuminating Lu Ming’s faint silhouette. Yet, the warmth he radiated was steadfast and reassuring.

Recalling how ruthless Qu Wuyan could be, Youyou grew more anxious for Quan Qing’er, urging Lu Ming to drive faster.

…

The snow on the overpass had been cleared away, so there was nothing to impede their speed. Lu Ming floored the accelerator, pushing the car to its limits.

As they neared Quan Qing’er’s villa, Lian Youyou spotted four black sedans parked outside, with a flashy matte-pink BMW at the front.

All these years, nearing fifty, and Qu Wuyan’s taste hadn’t improved a bit. If she liked soft pink shades in her youth, so be it—but now, even at her age, it was still her favorite.

Lu Ming parked and looked toward the villa.

“Hurry, let’s go,” said Lian Youyou impatiently, leaping from the car.

Across the way, Qu Wuyan strutted out in a mink coat, a Hermès bag on her arm, hips swinging, followed by seven or eight bodyguards in black.

“You little tramp, what are you doing here? Was this all your idea?!” Qu Wuyan’s attitude toward Lian Youyou was always venomous, as if nursing a deep-seated grudge.

If anyone should feel wronged, it ought to be Lian Youyou. Qu Wuyan’s self-righteous indignation was baffling.

She’d ruined the wife, taken the main seat, and become a film queen. What more did Qu Wuyan want?

Lian Youyou ignored her, intent on going inside to find Quan Qing’er, unwilling to start a conflict.

But her avoidance didn’t mean Qu Wuyan would let things be. She’d barely walked two steps before Qu Wuyan barked, “Stop right there!”

Lian Youyou halted instinctively and turned back. “What do you want?”

“Explain yourself. Are you behind all this with Quan Qing’er? Why are you here? When did you two start colluding? Was it you who egged her on to seduce my Fan Chi?” Qu Wuyan rattled off her accusations in one breath.

“Qu Wuyan, will you ever stop?” Lian Youyou stared coldly at her, struggling to keep her temper in check. “Don’t assume everyone is as despicable as you are. Flies don’t swarm to eggs without cracks—your Fan Chi isn’t exactly innocent himself.”

“And who gave you the right to call my name? You uncultured little wretch!” Qu Wuyan stood, hands on hips, shrieking like a scorned shrew. “Have I been too nice to you lately, that you dare talk back to me like this?”

“Maniac,” Lian Youyou muttered, moving forward.

“Don’t you walk away!” Qu Wuyan seized her wrist. “Admit it! You’re the one behind Quan Qing’er’s actions, aren’t you? I never realized you were more scheming than your mother! Why didn’t I strangle you at birth?”

Those words finally ignited Lian Youyou’s fury.

“Strangle me? We’ll see who strangles whom!”

She forgot all about finding Quan Qing’er. Rage exploded within her as she grabbed Qu Wuyan by the throat and slammed her to the ground. “You dare mention my mother? You old hag! You dare mention my mother!”

“Help! Help!” Qu Wuyan, no match for the younger and more spirited Lian Youyou, turned pale with fright.

The black-clad bodyguards rushed forward, but the first to reach Lian Youyou barely touched her shoulder before Lu Ming seized his wrist and sent him flying back with a kick.

While Lian Youyou and Qu Wuyan wrestled, Lu Ming faced eight opponents by himself, and chaos erupted.

This body of hers was weaker than Lian Youyou had anticipated. After a brief scuffle, Qu Wuyan gained the upper hand.

“You little tramp, you dare hit me? Tired of living, aren’t you?” Qu Wuyan yanked her by the hair with one hand, clamping the other around her throat, panting heavily.

Lian Youyou flailed like a helpless chick, then, realizing resistance was futile, went limp in defeat.

Just as Qu Wuyan hauled her up by the hair, about to slam her head against the floor, Lu Ming’s deep voice thundered from behind, “Let go!”

Lian Youyou felt the grip at her neck loosen. Looking back, she saw Lu Ming seize Qu Wuyan by the collar and hurl her aside.

And those burly bodyguards?

They lay sprawled across the ground—some clutching their stomachs, moaning in pain, others twisted at odd angles like dead cats, utterly motionless.

In that moment, Lian Youyou’s admiration for Lu Ming surged like an unstoppable tide.

She had assumed that, with his cold, elegant looks, he was a delicate beauty, unfit for any physical exertion. Never had she imagined he could fight so well, so fiercely.

Truly, appearances are deceiving.

After chasing away Qu Wuyan and her entourage, Lu Ming and Lian Youyou entered the villa, only to find the place in shambles—every piece of furniture and appliance smashed beyond recognition, the entire home ravaged as if by invading armies.

“Qing’er! Qing’er!” Not seeing Quan Qing’er, Lian Youyou called out several times.

“Youyou, over there.”

Following Lu Ming’s gesture, Lian Youyou saw dark red liquid seeping from behind the sofa.

They hurried over, only to find Quan Qing’er collapsed in a pool of blood. Her white dress had been soaked red, blossoming into great, ghastly flowers.

“Get her to the hospital, quick—hurry!” Lian Youyou’s panic was uncontrollable, her fingertips icy.

Together, she and Lu Ming rushed Quan Qing’er to the hospital, where she was immediately wheeled into emergency surgery.

…

The First People’s Hospital of Binhai was spotless, the very air saturated with the scent of disinfectant.

It was the dead of night, and there were few patients. Even the nurses on duty napped at their desks. The corridor was silent.