Chapter 51: Be Obedient at Home Part 2

But she really wasn’t the type to be that unrestrained, especially with the lights blazing like this. She looked at Ren Sanliu’s flushed cheeks and felt that even if it wasn’t deliberate teasing, she had gone a bit too far. If they weren’t going to do anything more later, this would undoubtedly be torture.

Xiang Yu reached out, took her underwear, bent her legs, slipped it on from her ankles, and quickly lifted her body to pull it up.

Now, she lay on the bed while Ren Sanliu knelt beside her. Ren Sanliu tore open a cooling patch and stuck it on Xiang Yu’s forehead, then took one of her hands and placed it on her knee. Every two or three minutes, she switched to the other hand, dipping a face towel in alcohol and wiping it alternately over the palms of both hands.

Xiang Yu had excellent physical constitution, and her fever had been triggered by extreme emotional ups and downs rather than actual illness. So, in just half an hour, with the help of medicine and alcohol, the fever subsided quickly.

Now, she snatched the alcohol-soaked face towel from Ren Sanliu’s hand and tossed it to the floor, right amid the four or five oily, glistening… finger cots that had already fulfilled their duties.

Then, she pulled Ren Sanliu’s hand over, sat cross-legged on the bed, and gestured for Ren Sanliu to lean in closer.

Once Ren Sanliu leaned over and sat shoulder-to-shoulder with her, Xiang Yu glanced from beneath her lowered lashes at the marks on Ren Sanliu’s neck—on that fair, tender, smooth expanse, there were reddish-purple imprints, even tiny blood spots seeping through the skin. These made Ren Sanliu’s mature allure even more captivating, while Xiang Yu herself seemed utterly childish amid these “masterpieces” she had created.

She was like a novice who had just tasted the forbidden fruit—charging ahead recklessly.

Or like a vampire on its first hunt outside, afraid of going hungry next time, latching on and drinking its fill.

“What exactly happened?”

Xiang Yu reined in her thoughts. After such an intense encounter, after fully seizing control in reality, she had to know the root of today’s unexpected terror.

“You sounded so urgent on the phone, telling me not to leave the police bureau, saying you’d come find me—what happened?”

With that, Xiang Yu gripped Ren Sanliu’s hand tightly—

“Was it Fang Jianke again? Don’t hide it from me… If you don’t tell me the truth, it won’t reassure me. It’ll just be like having a timed bomb strapped to me, not knowing when it’ll explode. And… you told me yourself that if you needed my help, you’d speak up.”

Ren Sanliu’s nose suddenly stung. She had already guessed why Xiang Yu had lost control like this. Though she hadn’t gotten explicit confirmation from Xiang Yu’s mouth, Xiang Yu’s unusually extreme behavior made further proof unnecessary. She couldn’t vividly imagine what storm Xiang Yu had weathered in that half-hour when her phone broke and they lost contact, but she was certain Xiang Yu had collapsed.

Under the bedside nightlight, Xiang Yu’s brows and eyes reflected in Ren Sanliu’s gaze—stern, dignified, resolute, inspiring absolute faith that as long as she was there, even the most unstable moment could bring safety.

“Why would I hide it from you? I was going to tell you anyway.”

“Was it Fang Jianke?”

“It was him, but he didn’t do anything to me. He… he did something even more unforgivable.” With that, Ren Sanliu got off the bed, went to the living room, fetched her bag, and pulled out a yellowed, worn envelope, handing it to Xiang Yu.

“Take a look. You’ll understand why I was so panicked on the phone once you read it.”

Xiang Yu took the envelope from Ren Sanliu’s hand, shook it, and out slid three long pages—its thickness was palpably obvious in her grip.

It wasn’t specialized stationery but the cheapest kind of homework paper, yellowed with hard granules on the surface and a terrible texture. The writing wasn’t done with a ballpoint or fountain pen but the most ordinary thick-lead pencil.

The handwriting was a dull silver-gray, faded from who-knows-how-many journeys, with many strokes blurred white from repeated folding.

Yet even so, it didn’t hinder the shocking content between the lines.

The letter detailed Fangjian Real Estate’s donations to Hope Primary School in a remote mountainous area.

Over the years, Fangjian Real Estate had been committed to Hope Primary School philanthropy, ostensibly to help left-behind impoverished children in the mountains with schooling. But according to this anonymous whistleblower letter, things were far from that simple.

Every two or three months, a special vehicle would take the better-looking girls from the school to the town to entertain wealthy merchants and officials.

Some contracted infectious diseases, some had abortions or miscarriages, and others, unable to bear the mental strain, ultimately chose suicide.

Xiang Yu held her breath, her gaze heavy as she read every word to the end.

“Who gave you this letter?”

“My colleague, Su Huang.”

“How did she get it?”

Ren Sanliu straightened her shoulders, sitting rigidly beside Xiang Yu. She placed her hand on Xiang Yu’s knee, hoping for some calming relief to steel herself for what she had to say next.

“Yesterday, at the law firm, I was researching that real estate case past closing time, around seven. The rain outside was pouring, turning the sky white, with water pooling on the roads. I was about to head home and planned to buy a bottle of water from the vending machine downstairs when I heard hurried footsteps. Then I saw Su Huang. Her expression was awful, much like ours now. Half her shoulder was soaked from the rain. She dragged me back into the law firm. It was empty by then, but she still worried, checking the door again outside the office before locking it and handing me this letter. I didn’t realize what was happening yet, but I could feel her trembling—not just shocked fear, but uncontrollable rage….”

As Ren Sanliu spoke, she clenched the hand on Xiang Yu’s knee, her knuckles turning white.

“After I read the letter, I asked the same question as you: where did it come from? I don’t know how many times Su Huang had read it, but her voice was completely different from usual. She recited its contents almost verbatim, her throat going hoarse after just a few sentences—

“‘Fang Jianke is a beast. For years, he’s used building Hope Primary Schools in the mountains as a front to traffic left-behind children for sex. No wonder he’s had such smooth sailing, with no negative news about Fangjian Real Estate online. He plays his role well, and he has big backers. Such a serious issue, yet airtight.’

“Su Huang braced one hand on the desk, the other hanging at her side, veins bulging on the back of her hand—

“‘Unfortunately… what goes around comes around. How about that—his donated Hope Primary School happens to be in my hometown. When I left, villagers said a big boss was building a school there. They hoped the kids could finally study and escape the mountains someday. This time I went back, passed by, and saw it built properly. I thought of leaving my number or bank details to donate… but guess what I saw?’

“What did you see? I asked her.

“‘A van parked at the school gate. The principal dragged out five or six girls—the oldest looked maybe fourteen or fifteen, the youngest… perhaps only twelve, or even smaller. He shoved them into the van. If that was all, I might not have thought much, but I saw someone in that van too….’

“Who? I asked again.

“‘Fang Jianke’s assistant, that guy always hovering around him, gold-rimmed glasses, dark suit. I only glimpsed him from afar, but I felt his scrutiny. He eyed those girls like fresh fish at the market—lecherous, vile… Of course, it wasn’t just that glance. His reputation is terrible. A client of mine who’d dealt with him said he’s a real pimp.'”

The rain grew heavier, the pounding on the glass nearly drowning out the voices inside. Su Huang’s face grew paler.

“‘I was supposed to leave the next day, but the more I thought, the more off it felt. I went to the orphanage where I used to stay in town and asked around through contacts about the school. She said she’d seen it but didn’t know details. Maybe because we’re close and I often donate to help them through tough times, she finally said something vague: some things no one can control; protecting yourself and what you can is hard enough…. She said it while eyeing the orphanage kids, begging me not to press her.’

“Su Huang’s voice went from hoarse to low and dim. She walked to the window, staring at the endless rain curtain, the streetlights like inescapable mazes in the black.

“‘I didn’t press her. I knew she’d done her best. In a place like that, guarding an orphanage and unrelated kids—she divorced for it, has no kids of her own, estranged from her parents. No one understands; they think she’s crazy. She’s sacrificed plenty. No one’s obligated to sacrifice.’

“Su Huang shook her head, understanding yet equally powerless.

“‘I waited a few more days to see if anyone else came. I still hoped it was a misunderstanding… Until the day I left. Right before boarding, some people argued and bumped into me—I don’t know who. They rushed past, and when I recovered, this letter was in my pocket. After reading it, no more illusions. I tried to find them, but they were gone.'”

At that point, Su Huang paused, shuddering as if chilled. Though she’d left that place years ago and seemed unrelated to outsiders, only she knew her life’s origins stemmed from there.

“‘That place is harsh, surrounded by towering mountains linked deep. Trains pass through them, planes roar overhead, but they never stay—just shadows in your upturned gaze.’

“‘Anyone can despise it, stay far away, but not me… If I don’t believe the world is good, I wouldn’t exist. Bad people are everywhere—even in this bustling city, we can’t guarantee safety… Like this downpour, evil might brew in some dark corner….'”

That was everything Su Huang had rushed through the black rain curtain to tell her.

Now, Ren Sanliu relayed it all to Xiang Yu, word for word.

“You’re right. Nothing good comes from devil’s seed.”

Ren Sanliu pressed her arm tight against Xiang Yu’s shoulder. Even now, she remembered the utter wretchedness upon reading the letter and the heartbroken look in Su Huang’s eyes.