Ring…
The call connected.
No voice ca from the other side.
Just… a soft hum.
Alive.
Fu Yuxin imdiately jumped in, her voice sharp as she explained the situation and told her to co down.
She was leaving. Screw everything.
She was done.
First, her mother dared question her relationship with Wang Xiao? That was laughable.
She wasn't even the one who made the first move.
If anything, he had done everything. She was the victim here, thank you very much.
And then, to top it all off, her mother had the gall to question Zhenxi's identity?
Call her… unrelated?
That crossed the line.
No, exploded the line.
Just as the car reached the end of the driveway, the front door creaked open.
Chen ili walked out, like a ghost.
She didn't look at anyone, just opened the passenger door and sat down in the front seat.
Her clothes were intact.
No wounds. No bleeding. No bruises. Not even dirt on her skin.
It was like nothing had happened at all.
Zhenxi tilted her head.
"…ili?"
She leaned forward slightly, uncertain.
Chen ili still didn't speak.
______
2nd January, 2026.
The sun had already begun its descent, casting a warm amber hue across the rooftops of Shanghai. Shadows stretched long and thin across the villa grounds, while the last rays of twilight slanted in through the windows, painting gold across polished floors and silky curtains.
After landing, instead of taking the won to their respective hos, Wang Xiao made a single, silent decision, he dumped all three at his own villa.
And then left again.
Not a word of explanation, no glance backward... Just gone.
Everyone stood still for a mont, staring after the door that had closed behind him.
More won?
More children?
Again?
The villa, already teetering on the edge of explosion, now housed a small kingdom. Three stories of luxury, dozens of rooms, and too many secrets.
Fortunately, it was large enough.
Just barely.
"...?"
As the door clicked shut, Xinyue Zhilan let out a heavy sigh. She was already numb to it.
But one girl, eyes wide, mouth slightly parted as if she'd just seen a shooting star crash into the lawn, stood there frozen.
Qian Yaoyao.
Her long dark hair flowed like silk, accentuated by soft side bangs framing a delicate, innocent face. Large moonlit eyes and a rosy pout gave her a dreamy charm, while her snow-white outfit, trimd in fur and paired with pearl accessories, made her look like a soft doll painted against the dying light.
She clutched a cream-topped drink, fingers slightly trembling, as she stared at the man who had just vanished.
This... was her cousin?
She ca here with her mother and older sister, Qian Ruixin, the elegant and gentle beauty with clear, aloof eyes and a temperant as still as jade. But even she now had a headache.
Unlike herself, Yaoyao had never interacted much with Wang Xiao.
And now, thrown into his orbit, the girl couldn't hide her bewildernt.
Her world was quiet... Structured.
This man's world?
A harem masquerading as a household.
Before she could say a word, smack!
Qian Ruixin slapped her wrist with a sharp flick.
"Don't stare," she whispered coldly.
Qian Yaoyao blinked. "Ow—What? Why?!"
Qian Ruixin leaned closer, expression deadly serious.
"Don't ask any questions about him. And stay away from him. Understand?"
Qian Yaoyao stared at her sister, stunned.
"…Are you serious?"
Qian Ruixin didn't answer.
Her eyes briefly swept over Yaoyao's soft curves, youthful bloom, and naïve face.
Then she cursed under her breath.
She should've left this girl behind in Beijing.
Wang Xiao is too unscrupulous.
You couldn't predict what he'd do.
Worse, warning him about sothing only made him more interested. She couldn't even suggest leaving Yaoyao alone, because that might trigger exactly what she wanted to avoid.
Qian Yaoyao tilted her head, confused. "Sis, you're being paranoid…"
She peeked again toward the couch, where two stunning foreign-looking teenage girls were casually playing on their phones, unbothered, unthreatened, and undeniably his.
"…Also, don't you think Cousin is kinda handso?"
She leaned in, whispering, "But like… too much... Even for him."
How did he do it?
Those two girls looked like imported porcelain dolls, the kind rich collectors would kill for. There was that icy woman who carried herself like a noble queen, and another, gentle and considerate, like the dream wife every man fantasized about.
And yet, these two were supposedly his girlfriends? She had to admit, he had quite the taste. But why did they seem more at ho here than she did, a blood relative?
They acted like the place belonged to them.
Now he'd brought in two more stunning won, plus a child that clearly belonged to one of them, and didn't even pause to consider that they might all end up clawing each other's eyes out?
No greetings... No explanations.
Just…
Qian Yaoyao's brows twitched slightly.
"He's such a scumbag…" she muttered, she hated this exact kind, and wasn't he just her age?
Why didn't Aunt Zhilan scold him? Hell, if she ever brought a boyfriend ho, her own mother would've murdered her.
"You—!"
Qian Ruixin's brows twitched furiously.
"I told you not to say anything about him!"
This ti, the smack landed harder.
"..."
Qian Yaoyao's face darkened.
She glared at her sister's flushed, furious expression.
"Why are you acting like I insulted your husband or sothing...?"
Her lips pouted, slightly aggrieved, but with the sa cheeky glint in her eyes. The slap stung, but not enough to leave a mark.
"..."
Qian Ruixin clenched her teeth.
She didn't reply.
Lately… she had been losing her temper more than usual.
Ever since she started hanging around Wang Xiao, sothing in her had started to shift, quietly, uncontrollably.
By the ti she cooled off and turned to say sothing, Qian Yaoyao was already gone, trailing behind their mother, Xin ifang.
Xin ifang was a woman of sharp elegance and pride, soone who could silence a room just by walking in. Her posture was perfect, and the bold, proud arch of her chin reminded others she wasn't just a pretty vase.
Still, there was sothing oddly amusing about it, None of her daughters inherited her figure.
Just like Xinyue Zhilan's girls, they were all on the moderate side—slender and light.
But they were still young.
Wang Jiarong, already in her mid-twenties, had begun blossoming, her once-gentle figure maturing into sothing even more lethal than her mother's. It was only a matter of ti before the younger girls followed the sa path.
A beautiful bloodline could not be wasted.
But Qian Ruixin wasn't concerned about that right now.
She was more disturbed by her mother.
Xin ifang had been acting… strange.
Not to others, no, she still played the doting matriarch. But toward her, the coldness was clear. Like standing before a smiling goddess with a dagger behind her back.
Once, her mother's strictness felt like guidance. Now it felt like indifference, as if she was being treated like soone else entirely.
Ever since the marriage arrangent, sothing had changed.
Sotis, when they were alone, Ruixin felt as if she was standing before her natural nesis...
She wanted to ask Wang Xiao.
But the man had disappeared again.
After leaving behind the ss of mother-daughter hair-pulling and the ominous silence of Chen ili, Wang Xiao walked alone through the hazy outskirts of Tianjin Back.
The city here was quieter, industrial fog swirling under sodium lights, as if the sky itself was being digested.
And there, under a crooked lamp that flickered like a broken mory, a taxi waited.
Wang Xiao approached.
The driver stood outside, leaning casually against the side door, tapping a lollipop against his teeth. His figure was lanky, too lanky. His limbs bent at the wrong angles, like a dream drawn by a drunk child.
He wore a tattered trench coat stitched with clock faces, so ticking backward, so lting. Orange curls flowed beneath a top hat with a grinning moon badge.
When he saw Wang Xiao, he removed the hat with a little spin. Orange bangs fell like ink-streaks.
"Yo! Took your sweet ti, bossman."
His eyes were mismatched, one violet, one glowing faint gold. Both shimred with constellations.
"I've been waiting sooo long—ah?"
Wang Xiao didn't bother replying.
He walked to the trunk and flipped it open.
Inside were three bodies.
Two won—familiar.
And the third?
A shirtless man with golden bracelets, white curls, and a smirk frozen mid-dream.
Apollo.
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