Chapter 108: Chapter 108 - 108 Speed up the 108 movements

Chapter 108: Speed up the 108 movements Chapter 108: Speed up the 108 movements “Xiaocheng, how can you speak to your mother like that?” Mr. Huangpu, as stiff as a wooden stake, finally spoke, his face clearly ablaze with anger.

Fu Han’s gaze fell on Mr. Huangpu. He was tall and sturdy, having gained weight with middle age; his belly protruded as if he were a woman five months pregnant.

But even so, one could still discern from his current facial features just how handsome he had been in his youth, much like Su Cheng at this moment.

Fu Han drifted off at a time when she really shouldn’t have, so much so that she didn’t catch a single word of the heated argument between the family of three from Su Cheng; she only vaguely sensed that their quarrel was escalating.

Suddenly, a hand reached out on a slant and pulled Fu Han back three steps.

As Fu Han turned her head, she saw He Xing’s face and immediately stopped her inopportune daydreaming.

“What are you doing here?” she tried to wriggle out of He Xing’s embrace, thinking to herself, There’s no such thing as maximum chaos, only more chaos.

“Fu Han, are you an idiot? Just watching as someone tramples you under their feet?” Rage churned in He Xing’s dark eyes, a power within them that could swallow everything in this world.

“I’m not,” Fu Han was a bit confused. She felt slightly guilty towards Su Cheng—after all, this romance was fake. In her mind, being bad-mouthed by Su Cheng’s parents was no big deal; she might as well consider it repaying a favor to Su Cheng.

He Xing snorted coldly and stopped paying attention to Fu Han, turning to Su Cheng: “You can’t even protect the woman you like; what kind of man are you?”

Su Cheng’s face turned pale, but he said nothing.

He Xing then turned to Mr. and Mrs. Huangpu: “You two have a reputation in A City, yet here you are ganging up on a young girl; aren’t you afraid of losing face if word gets out?”

“He Xing, this is our family business, what does it have to do with you?” Mrs. Huangpu retorted, not giving an inch.

“Family business?” He Xing sneered: “Fu Han was raised by our He Family; that’s her natal home, and I am in charge of her affairs, and I will be for life.”

The faces of Mr. and Mrs. Huangpu changed color. Despite their reluctance, they ended up saying nothing.

With another cold snort from He Xing, he pulled Fu Han away without another word.

It wasn’t until He Xing and Fu Han were far away that Mrs. Huangpu bit her lip and spoke through clenched teeth: “Xiaocheng, what do we even say about you? Fu Han was discarded by the He Family, and you eagerly picked her up; if others knew about this, who knows how they’d laugh at us.”

Mr. Huangpu didn’t speak, but his face clearly expressed agreement.

If Mr. Huangpu hadn’t stopped him, Su Cheng would have chased after Fu Han just now. At this moment, he was simply seething: “Mom and Dad, all you have in your hearts are the company and your own prestige; you only think about yourselves, never considering what I want.”

“Xiaocheng, how can you say that? We work so hard all for your sake,” Mrs. Huangpu’s eyes reddened, tears already brimming, making it seem as if Su Cheng had done something unforgivable.

Su Cheng, feeling rebellious, burst out: “I beg you, stop saying such things. The affairs of the Huangpu Family have nothing to do with me; I just want to do what I love.”

Having said that, he ran off.

Mr. and Mrs. Huangpu looked at each other, both taken aback by Su Cheng’s outburst that day.

“Husband, just what kind of witchcraft has that fox spirit Fu Han used on Su Cheng, turning him like this?” Mrs. Huangpu wept bitterly as she threw herself into Mr. Huangpu’s arms.

Mr. Huangpu patted Mrs. Huangpu’s back gently, whispering softly: “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of this.”

…

He Xing practically dragged Fu Han out of the clubhouse, tossing her directly into his Lamborghini.

Throughout, Fu Han struggled desperately, but the discrepancy in strength between them rendered her efforts futile.

The streetlight shone on He Xing’s face, showcasing a flawless profile without a single bad angle, and from Fu Han’s perspective, it was akin to seeing the profile of The Thinker.

He Xing, with an unknown fury, started the car and immediately slammed the pedal to the metal; the screeching friction of the tires on the ground was jarring.

Securing the seatbelt was useless for Fu Han; she clutched the car’s handgrip overhead tightly, her last lifeline, convinced that without it she’d surely be thrown out.

Only when she finally acclimatized to the extreme speed could she speak: “He Xing, what in the world are you doing? Put me down this instant.”

“Going crazy?” He Xing glanced at her once, then hit the brakes hard.

The tires screeched against the pavement, and the car came to a halt.

Caught unawares, Fu Han’s forehead had an intimate encounter with the dashboard. She glared at He Xing, holding her forehead: “You did that on purpose, right?”

“Right, I did it on purpose; I’m out of my mind,” He Xing’s face was etched with endless coldness. After turning off the car, he lunged toward Fu Han.

Kisses rained down upon Fu Han—on her face, lips, neck—violent and consuming, filled with a destructive rage.

Fu Han resisted with all her might. She couldn’t count how many times she kicked He Xing’s legs, nor how many times she hit his back, but it was useless.

Hiss!

The sound of fabric tearing.

It was her evening gown that He Xing had just ripped apart.

Fu Han’s exposed shoulders met the air, causing her to shiver with cold.

He Xing’s kisses followed like a shadow, branding her goosebumps-covered shoulders like a hot iron, his hands roving all over her body with unmistakable intent.

Fu Han tilted her head back towards the sky just as a flurry of snowflakes began to fall, marking the second snowfall of the winter.

This year was different; the winter stretched long as if the cold would never end. The snowflakes were beautiful, yet the bone-chilling cold was not for everyone to endure.

Fu Han’s heart sank little by little. She and He Xing had been intimate in the past, but he had always been restrained, never tearing through that last layer of resistance.

But today, for some unknown reason, He Xing would not listen to anything Fu Han said.

She despaired, thinking was she really going to surrender her precious first time under such circumstances? And involuntarily, at that?

Fu Han’s hands, which she had struggled to keep in front of He Xing’s chest, dropped. Her legs no longer kicked at He Xing; she just lay there on the seat, still, resigned to her fate.

Unexpectedly, He Xing’s movements also stopped. Towering over her, his voice hoarse, he asked, “What is this supposed to mean?”

“Since I can’t fight you off, just do as you will; make it quick, so I don’t suffer too much,” Fu Han said, turning her gaze away from He Xing, back to the snowflakes falling outside the window.

He Xing’s deep-seated pain was like an endless sea. Slowly propping himself up, he sat back in the driver’s seat.