“What do you mean by ‘going on a killing spree’?”
Wasn’t Bo Wang not supposed to be at the Black Spade Club today?
Jiang Fusheng sat down and said, “Turns out the information I got was wrong. The young master is at the Black Spade Club today. He even booked a private room there to rest.”
(Private rooms in high-end Chinese clubs are secluded VIP spaces, often used by influential guests.)
“So?”
Lu Zhiling picked up a slice of peach to eat. It was fresh, sweet, and bursting with juice between her lips clearly the best of the season .
Jiang Fusheng also started eating seeing her enjoyment. As she chewed, she continued, “I don’t know which blind idiot mistook the young master for a gigolo and even stuck two voting flowers on his door. The young master exploded on the spot when he saw them.”
(Voting flowers: decorative silk flowers placed on a performer’s door to ‘vote’ for or select them—commonly used in entertainment venues to choose escorts or performers and in this case for the king escort for the night.)
“…”
A sharp pain suddenly pierced Lu Zhiling lip when she heard the reason.
Lu Zhiling froze as she had pricked herself on the peach pit. When she touched her lip, her fingertip came away stained with a tiny bead of blood.
Jiang Fusheng didn’t notice her reaction and continued, “I really don’t know who had the nerve to do that but One thing i do know for sure who ever that person is he/she is definitely as good as dead from now !”
Lu Zhiling’s body stiffened almost imperceptibly as she heard that . “Is it… really that serious?”
Maybe it had been a misunderstanding.Becasue she knew even if she with all the courage in the world had absolutely not meant to insult anyone when she placed those two flowers on the door.
“Of course it’s serious!” Jiang Fusheng said without hesitation. “To calm the young master down, the club owner—Boss Li had to jumped off the second floor . He was covered in blood when they carried him away to the hospital.”
(In Chinese dramatic narration, this implies a desperate, extreme act to appease someone powerful, not necessarily suicide.)
Just thinking about it made Jiang Fusheng shiver. Her scalp tingled. Then, as if she suddenly remembered something, she shot a glance at Lu Zhiling, her expression hesitant, as though she wanted to speak but didn’t dare to.
Lu Zhiling saw through her instantly. “There’s something else you haven’t told me, isn’t there?”
“…”
Jiang Fusheng’s eyes flickered. After a long pause, she finally said quietly, “There is something I didn’t mention before. I was afraid you’d overthink it… after all, you and the young master are husband and wife.”
“What is it?”
“It’s something I overheard years ago,” Jiang Fusheng lowered her voice even further. “When the young master was working as a thug in Beigang, he was once forced to work as a gigolo for the wealthy.”
(Gigolo here refers to a male escort coerced into entertaining wealthy clients, often carrying humiliation and loss of dignity.)
“I don’t know how long it lasted,” she added softly, “but I do know one thing for sure—he absolutely hated it.” “Butler Wen said that something sensational happened in Beigang back then,” Jiang Fusheng said in a low voice. “The young master was forcibly dragged into a wealthy woman’s room by several burly men. Later… everyone inside was carried out riddled with holes, and the blood splattered on the walls couldn’t be scrubbed clean even after three days.”
(“Holes” here referred to gunshot wounds—a brutal, unmistakable message in the underworld.)
“…”
Lu Zhiling understood at once.
This was no misunderstanding.
She had stepped straight into Bo Wang’s tail.
“Why didn’t you react at all?” Jiang Fusheng asked, unable to hide her confusion.
Sometimes she truly wondered whether Lu Zhiling had ever experienced intense emotions at all. How could someone remain so composed after hearing such a terrifying secret?
React?
Yes.
Lu Zhiling sat upright, her back straight as a ruler, her gaze resting calmly on Jiang Fusheng. Her voice was strangely even.
“Guess where our two flowers are now?”
(The “flowers” referred to voting flowers—decorative blossoms placed on private room doors at entertainment clubs to indicate clients choosing escorts or performers. Leaving them on the wrong door was a grave insult.)
Jiang Fusheng froze for a moment before the meaning struck her. She collapsed onto the floor in shock.
“Y-you… you were the one who dared to do that?!”
If someone else had coincidentally placed two voting flowers on that door, then perhaps Lu Zhiling wouldn’t be the culprit—but the chances of that were almost nonexistent.
“I saw him wearing a white shirt, like the people on stage,” Lu Zhiling said calmly. “So I misunderstood.”
Her tone was matter-of-fact.
She picked up a grape and placed it into her mouth. The cool sweetness spread across her tongue, easing the sudden, suffocating heat rising in her chest.
It wasn’t enough.
She reached for more—cherries, apples, peaches, mangoes—accepting everything without discrimination.
The plate of fruit was emptied in no time.
Jiang Fusheng stared at her in disbelief. “Can a pregnant woman really eat this much?”
Yes.
At least this pregnant woman was still alive.
And as long as she was alive, she could eat.
Tomorrow, however, was not guaranteed.
After a long while, once her breathing had steadied, Lu Zhiling finally spoke again.
“If I tell him the truth—explain the misunderstanding, and sincerely apologize—what do you think the chances are that Bo Wang would let me live?”
…