Ji Jing turned around and shouted loudly, trying to draw him back into the fold, but Bo Wang didn’t join them in their bizarre “health-conscious” foot soaking ritual. Instead, he sat some distance away, eyes closed, feigning sleep. Insomnia was his constant, shadow-like companion; he was always chasing a rest that remained perpetually out of reach, a spiritual exhaustion that gnawed at his edges.
Through half-closed lids, Bo Wang observed the surreal, neon-lit world around him. He propped his head on one hand, his slender fingers rhythmically tapping against his temple. Suddenly, the pulsing bass and the mindless chatter felt grating. The noise was like a physical barrier keeping him from the void he craved.
After a moment, he checked his phone. There was a message from Lu Zhiling sent eleven minutes ago:
【I’ve tidied up. Will you come back home to see tonight ?】
Home.
The word felt foreign. This woman had forcibly wedged herself into his life like a high-stakes robber—insisting on accompanying him to the throne of the Bo family, moving into his private sanctuary, and buying furniture as if she owned the place. Now, she was jumping up and down with excitement, eager to show him just how thoroughly she had “plundered” his solitude.
“Fine,” he muttered to himself, his lips curling into a dark, intrigued line. “I’ll go back and check on the little thief.”
Bo Wang stood abruptly. Ji Jing, startled, called out, “Brother Wang, where are you going?”
“Too noisy. I’m leaving,” Bo Wang replied, not bothering to look back.
Ji Jing choked, spraying a mouthful of Gouqi [Goji berry] tea across the table. Brother Wang—the man who usually complained that a place wasn’t wild or loud enough—was leaving because of the noise? He stared at the retreating back, utterly baffled.
The roar of the sports car died down as Bo Wang parked in the rooftop garden. He tossed his keys aside and strode toward the entrance. As the floor-to-ceiling glass doors slid open, his muscle memory took over; he reached behind his back and drew his pistol, eyes scanning the perimeter.
The living room, usually a cavern of shadows, was now bathed in a warmth as bright as day. Just inside the entryway sat vibrant red potted plants, their colors startling against the minimalist decor. A massive, four-meter-long fish tank was illuminated, the water plants dancing in the filtered light. At the bottom sat an exquisitely realistic model of the Titanic, making the tank look like a fragment of a vast, mystical ocean where a school of silver fish darted between the “wrecks.”
Living creatures. She had brought life into his tomb.
Bo Wang stared at the fish, his gaze heavy and unreadable. Suddenly, a cheerful voice broke the silence. “You’re back?”
He turned and saw the deep blue of the night sky framed in the window behind her. Lu Zhiling was stepping down from a small, carpeted platform, looking radiant in a fresh white nightgown. She was holding a bowl of fruit and yogurt salad, her smile wide and welcoming.
“How is it?” she asked, walking briskly toward him with a hopeful gaze. “You… you don’t hate what I’ve done, do you?”
She stopped directly in front of him. There was a tiny white smudge of yogurt at the corner of her lips, a domestic detail that made his chest tighten. She stood there as if she had belonged in this space for a lifetime, her presence blending into the room with terrifying ease.
Bo Wang’s eyes locked onto her lips. His Adam’s apple bobbed. After a long, tense silence, he slowly tucked his gun away. Reached out, his thumb pressing firmly against her lip to wipe away the yogurt. His touch was forceful, lingering longer than necessary, his eyes darkening as his voice dropped to a low, husky growl.
“You really did rob me thoroughly.”
He barely recognized the place. His sanctuary of cold stone and silence had been dismantled.
“Robbed what?” Lu Zhiling asked, her brow furrowing in genuine confusion.
Bo Wang didn’t answer. He looked at her deeply, a silent acknowledgment that the “robber” had succeeded. He reached down and plucked the fruit skewer from her hand.
Lu Zhiling instinctively pulled back. “You want some? Let me get you a fresh one. I’ve already used this…”
Before she could finish, Bo Wang snatched the skewer back. He slid a piece of mango off the wood and into his mouth, his eyes never leaving hers. It was incredibly sweet, the juice bursting against his tongue.
“Have you had dinner?” she asked, assuming his silent intensity was just hunger. “I saved some for you.”
Saved some food. The words carried a weight of intimacy he wasn’t prepared for.
Still Lu Zhiling led him to the dining area. Where Bo Wang stared at the newly added table, hesitating for a heartbeat before pulling out a chair. He felt like a guest in his own home with all those things. But as if she was ignorant of the undercurrent of his mood Lu Zhiling served him a steaming bowl of rice. “Eat,” she commanded gently.
The table featured an automatic heating function [a common feature in high-end Chinese smart-home dining tables], ensuring the dishes were perfectly warmwhenever needed. So Bo Wang picked up his chopsticks and began to eat, bite by deliberate bite.
Lu Zhiling sat beside him, her presence a gentle anchor in the quiet room. “Can I tell you about SG Entertainment?” she ventured.
“Speak,” he replied, never breaking his pace.
For a moment, Lu Zhiling was taken aback; he seemed uncharacteristically receptive tonight. She slid across the floor in her soft slippers toward the office area, returning shortly with a heavy dossier.
“Yu Yunfei’s flight has already departed,” she began, her tone shifting to one of professional focus. “Xia Meiqing and I share the same suspicion: Yu Yunfei fled to distance herself from the coming fallout. It’s almost certain she’s left behind some ‘landmines’ within the company’s accounts or operations. We have to be meticulous.”
Bo Wang chewed a piece of braised eggplant, his dark eyes hooded. He didn’t interrupt, allowing her soft voice to fill the space between them.
“Avoiding her traps is only the baseline,” Lu Zhiling continued, her eyes alight with ambition. “I don’t think we should settle for mediocre growth. If you enter the Bo Group conglomerate as just another manager, you’ll be sidelined. To truly seize power, we need results so explosive that even Bo Zhengrong cannot ignore them.”
Bo Wang reached for a crystal shrimp. “I want soup.”
“Of course.” Lu Zhiling didn’t hesitate. She set aside the documents and ladled a clear broth into a small porcelain bowl. She placed it before him with a submissive grace that seemed to satisfy him; his appetite was surprisingly robust.
“What do you think is the fastest way to outperform Yu Yunfei’s past two years in just two months?” she asked, watching him intently.
“Money laundering,” Bo Wang said flatly, taking a measured spoonful of soup without so much as a blink.
Lu Zhiling’s smile faltered only for a second. Truly, she thought, he is a genius of the wicked path. “SG is your springboard,” she countered firmly. “We must win this battle with clean hands. The future head of the Bo family cannot have a stained record.”
Bo Wang finished his meal, appearing entirely unmoved by her appeal to honor.
“Actually,” Lu Zhiling added tentatively, “Grandmother has arranged for several industry veterans to meet with us tomorrow. I’ve scheduled a consultation. Could you stay for it?”
The atmosphere shifted instantly. The temperature in the room seemed to drop as Bo Wang’s expression curdled into a scoff. “Another lecture? Did the old lady forget to mention how much I loathe being ‘taught’?”
His voice turned low and predatory, casting a shadow over the bright dining room. Lu Zhiling stiffened as he reached out, his cold fingertips tracing the line of her jaw, tilting her face upward.
“If you insist on bringing them here, fine,” he whispered, his touch both sensual and terrifying. “But I can’t guarantee they’ll leave with all their limbs intact.”
The air in her lungs felt thin. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I didn’t know it was such a sore point. Forget I said anything. Please… don’t be angry.”
In a bid to appease him, she pushed a bowl of chilled yogurt and fresh fruit toward him. “Have some dessert. It’s the freshest batch.”
When he didn’t move, she picked up the silver spoon, scooped a perfect bite of yogurt and fruit, and held it to his lips. “Just a little?”
Bo Wang stared into her eyes—deep, dark pools that seemed to want to swallow her whole. After a long, agonizing silence, he opened his mouth. He was clearly still simmering, but the edge of his rage had blunted. Lu Zhiling maintained the forced smile of a devoted admirer, feeding him spoonful by spoonful until the bowl was empty.
Without another word, Bo Wang rose and walked away. He didn’t erupt, nor did he cast her out.
Taking a shaky breath, Lu Zhiling immediately called Ding Yujun. She needed answers. She spent the next several hours huddled at her desk, sifting through the digital wreckage of Bo Wang’s past failures at the conglomerate.
The data was damning. At twenty, Bo Wang had been put in charge of a massive real estate division. It should have been a guaranteed success, but he had been blindsided by a rival, signing a catastrophic contract that bled over a billion yuan from the group.
Lu Zhiling scrolled through the “educational materials” Ding Yujun had provided back then. They were dense, professional, and filled with complex terminology regarding architecture and macroeconomics.
Why would a man as sharp as Bo Wang fall for such an obvious contractual trap? she wondered.
As the clock ticked past midnight, a chilling realization struck her. She printed the old contracts and the study guides, spreading them across the floor. With a red pen, she began circling specific characters.
The pattern was unmistakable. The study materials contained subtle misspellings—homophones [Note: Words that sound the same but are written differently and have different meanings, a common trap in Chinese literacy]. These weren’t accidental; they were designed to train his brain to accept the wrong meaning for critical legal terms.
Her heart ached. Bo Wang hadn’t been stupid; he had been systematically sabotaged. Someone had exploited his lack of formal schooling to build a linguistic prison around him.
“What are you doing now?”
A towering shadow fell across her. Lu Zhiling looked up to see Bo Wang standing over her. He was shirtless, his damp hair covered by a white towel, his pajama pants hanging low on his hips.
Lu Zhiling’s gaze involuntarily skipped over the lean, powerful lines of his waist before she clutched the papers to her chest. Bo Wang dropped onto the rug beside her and snatched the documents away.
“Why are you digging up this garbage?” he asked, his voice dangerously thin.
“You said you hated lectures,” Lu Zhiling said, her voice thick with emotion. “I wanted to understand why.”
Bo Wang pulled the towel from his head, staring at her with an unreadable expression. “And? What did you find, Professor?”
“I found out you were framed,” she said, spreading the papers. “Look. These materials use ‘typos’ that change the entire legal definition of the clauses in your contracts. To an ordinary person, they look like simple mistakes. But if you were taught that this character meant that action…”
She paused, her voice softening to a whisper. “Bo Wang… how many characters were you actually taught to read as a child?”
It was a trap designed perfectly for a man with a fractured education. He must have been forced to sign those contracts alone, his lawyers bought off or sent away.
Bo Wang leaned in, his face inches from hers, a mocking smile playing on his lips. “A man who never stepped foot in a classroom? How many words do you think he knows?”
He pressed his hand over hers, pinning her against the soft beanbag. The scent of his soap and the heat from his skin overwhelmed her. “Do you regret it now? Realizing your ‘hero’ is just an illiterate thug?”
Water dripped from his hair onto her cheek. Lu Zhiling looked at his fierce, defensive posture and saw not a thug, but a wounded predator baring its teeth to hide the pain.
She reached up, took the towel from his shoulders, and began to gently pat his hair dry.
Bo Wang froze. He looked at her as if she were a creature from another planet.
“Maybe you’ll think I’m being a hypocrite,” she murmured, “but I see how much effort you put into those old notes. You were so diligent. If you hadn’t cared, you never would have memorized the ‘wrong’ words in the first place. You fell into the trap because you were trying too hard to succeed.”
It was a tragedy of effort.
Bo Wang’s lip curled. “Do you think I’m a child, Lu Zhiling? That I need your pity?”
“No,” she said, her gaze locking onto his with unwavering intensity. “But in the time before I have to leave, let me be the one person who spoils you like one.”
The air between them turned electric. Bo Wang’s eyes darkened to a predatory black. He placed a hand behind her head, his fingers tangling in her hair as he pulled her toward him. His breath hit her lips, hot and demanding.
As his mouth was an inch from hers, about to claim a kiss that promised to be both punishing and desperate—
“Zhiling? Aren’t you coming to bed? It’s so late…”
A groggy, high-pitched voice drifted from the hallway. Bo Wang’s head snapped around in pure, unadulterated shock. Jiang Fusheng stood there, rubbing her eyes and yawning, her hair a bird’s nest.
She looked at them. Her eyes went wide. Then wider.
“AHHHH!” she shrieked, covering her eyes and boltling back into the hallway.
Bo Wang’s desire evaporated into a flash of homicidal rage. He glared at Lu Zhiling. “What the hell is she doing in my house?”
“She’s been here all evening,” Lu Zhiling said, trying to suppress her own flustered heartbeat. “Grandmother sent her to stay with me and help me out. She’s sleeping in the guest room.”
“Staying here?” Bo Wang hissed, his face contorting. “In my house?”
He realized then that the “empty room” he thought was for Lu Zhiling was actually occupied by her friend. The “spoiling” she promised wasn’t going to happen in his bed.
“Tell her… to get the hell out. Now.”
“It’s past midnight!” Lu Zhiling protested, reaching out to stroke his damp hair again to soothe him. “It’s not safe for her. Just one night, please? For me?”
Bo Wang stared at her, his jaw tight enough to snap. He felt the soft touch of her hand and let out a frustrated, guttural growl.
“Fine,” he spat, leaning back and looking away. “Just don’t think for a second that I, Bo Wang, am the kind of man who begs for your attention.”