Feng Yayin’s mouth curled into a faint, proud smile. Her delicate features held a trace of haughtiness. “I know.”
Feng Haitian felt a weight lift from his chest. He looked at his daughter and, for the first time since the scandal, found someone he could truly rely on.
“Dad,” she continued, voice steady, “as long as I’m still part of the Feng family, I won’t stand by and watch you get hurt. So think hard before you sign those divorce papers. If you choose to abandon Mom, I’ll wash my hands of the family business—completely.”
The name He Xinlan made shame flush across Feng Haitian’s face. Having that video of his wife with another man shown to the world—what man wouldn’t feel that as the deepest humiliation? Yet now, with his daughter at his side, he couldn’t bring himself to act against her.
“All right. I’ll listen to you,” he said, smiling on the surface though bitterness churned beneath.
…
The Fu family villa was its usual stately self. Feng Yu was bent over her phone, fingers flying as she concentrated on a match. Fu Geyue, in a foul mood, hovered nearby—both of them had once been at the top in Glory, the mobile game they still sometimes played for nostalgia.
Geyue rarely queued for ranked matches, preferring the leaderboards. This time she’d logged on specifically to cheer Feng Yu up, but no matter how many opponents they crushed, Geyue still felt smothered by anger.
“You’re just going to sit there and watch? Feng Yayin walks away untouched, and in a few months everyone will forget and she’ll keep acting like she owns the world,” Geyue fumed.
“Finish the match first,” Feng Yu said without looking up.
“Now? You’re still playing? I’m done. I can’t just let this slide—Ayayi, you need to teach her a lesson.” Geyue's expression shifted into a sly grin. “Did you know Feng Yayin is trying to land an endorsement? The game’s tie-in. She’s hoping that deal will open her up to overseas markets. Why don’t you go for the same gig? Run for the campaign ambassador.”
Geyue couldn’t help laughing. “Your online presence is already huge. Seriously—your eating video? It’s been reposted so many times across platforms, people can’t stop talking about it. Commenters say they’ve never seen anyone eat with such gusto. Some even said they could almost taste it through the screen.”
“Ayayi, you should debut. I’ll be your manager.” Geyue tossed out the idea with teasing confidence. “Mu Li could set up a company just for Feng Yayin—so I’ll set one up for you. Let’s take her on.”
Feng Yu smiled softly. From the phone came Geyue’s voice again: “So? You don’t like the idea?”
“No,” Feng Yu said. “I was just thinking the same thing. I can’t let the Fengs get away with what they did to your family. Feng Yayin’s pride is in what she owns right now—I’m going to fight back, but on my own terms.”
Geyue clapped, delighted. “Good. I’m with you.”
“So can we play now?” Feng Yu asked.
“Play?” Geyue scoffed. “Screw this game. Come with me—let’s plan your debut.”
Feng Yu weighed the words for a moment. She’d avoided meaningless competition—kept a bronze account and only played sometimes for fun. But this was different. Mu Li was Fu Qianchen’s friend; Mu Li had helped Feng Yayin. She couldn’t ask Fu Qianchen to go behind his friend’s back and risk their friendship. She would rely on herself.
Just then, a soft knock at the door.
“Young Madam, dinner’s ready,” Butler Li called in his kindly voice.
Feng Yu finished her match and opened the door to find Butler Li with two housemaids behind him, each carrying boxes and bags.
“What’s all this?” she asked.
“I heard you plan to go for number one on the national server,” Butler Li explained, eyes gleaming. “So I had people pick up some snacks and drinks—girls like milk tea, so I bought one from every shop. I hope you’ll like them.” As a Glory fan himself, Li had taken the news of her aspiration as seriously as anyone; when he recognized her in-game ID, he was delighted beyond measure.
A warmth moved through Feng Yu. The staff in this house treated her like family—unquestioning support that made something inside her soften. The maids cheered her on. “Young Madam, you can do it!”
She looked at the mountain of milk teas being carried into the living room and had to laugh and cry at once. “I can’t finish all of that myself—share them with everyone.”
…
When Fu Qianchen returned home he noticed an unusual hush to the servants’ movements and frowned. Butler Li murmured the situation into his ear, and the tension in Qianchen’s face eased.
He changed his shoes and stepped into the living room. There she was—small, focused, phone in both hands—surrounded by the worried faces of the house staff. Today she wore simple loungewear: a pale yellow top that made her skin look even paler and softer. Her hair was in a high ponytail, lively and unpretentious. She had just finished a match when their eyes met.
For a moment Qianchen found himself looking straight into a pair of clear, liquid eyes that seemed to shimmer. Her voice came soft and pliant. “Mr. Fu, you’re back.”
He was in a black shirt, hair a distraction of unruly strands. He fixed a half-smile on his face. “Tired?”
“A little.”
“Have you eaten?”
“Not yet.”
He swept one quick glance over her and his voice softened. “Don’t just bury yourself in things—eat.”
She tried to stand up but her legs were numb from sitting cross-legged too long. As she rose she lost her balance and tumbled forward. Embarrassed and desperate to hide it, she tried to find the floor with her hands—but Qianchen was faster. A chuckle touched his lips. “I’ll carry you to the table.”
He rolled up his sleeves, bent, and slipped his arms around her. One hand settled against the thin of her back; the other threaded beneath her legs. The world tilted. Before she could think, he lifted her up in a perfect princess carry.