Chapter 28: How Have I Ever Wronged You?

The car was silent, and the voice from Lu Fengzhou’s phone sounded unusually clear. Qiao Jiu heard Song Wan softly calling him “Azhou” in that gentle tone.

Whether Lu Fengzhou heard it or not, his actions—kissing her neck and tugging at her clothes—showed no sign of stopping.

Qiao Jiu curled her lips and wrapped her arms around his neck. “Lu Fengzhou, we’re divorced. Isn’t this against the rules?”

He lifted his head; their breaths mingled, the air thick with the scent of alcohol and desire.

The car’s lights were off, only faint illumination streaming in from the streetlamps outside.

Qiao Jiu couldn’t quite make out his expression. She only felt that his presence had grown heavier, darker.

Lu Fengzhou said nothing, merely lowering his head again a few seconds later to kiss her, this time far more tenderly, as if his earlier anger had somehow dissipated.

Qiao Jiu deliberately let out a little moan, twisting her body and hooking her leg around his waist.

Innocent or not, nothing could change the fact that those two had trampled over her on their way to fame and fortune. She was not a kind person; she simply didn’t want them to have things easy.

Song Wan made no further sound; whether she had hung up or was still on the other end, unwilling to let go, Qiao Jiu couldn’t tell.

The car was parked in the suburbs; at this hour, not a single other vehicle passed by.

Emboldened, Lu Fengzhou even rolled down the window halfway through and pressed Qiao Jiu up against it.

Streetlights flickered past in a haze as Qiao Jiu’s mind drifted elsewhere, thoughts growing hazy.

She remembered when her father was gravely ill: Lu Fengzhou had kept her locked away in the old house, saying he didn’t want her to be saddened by the old man’s condition.

Yet when their divorce became public, the story changed completely.

Everyone said the eldest daughter of the Qiao family was cold by nature—when her father lay dying in the hospital, she was off traveling. Even after receiving the news, she never hurried back, leaving only Lu Fengzhou by the sickbed. By the time she finally returned in haste, her father was beyond saving, and he died with his eyes open in anger and heartbreak.

Some went further, blaming her directly: the eldest Miss Qiao had always been wild and unmanageable, and after so many years of being both father and mother, old Mr. Qiao simply couldn’t carry on any longer.

She’d always had a poor reputation, and no one ever questioned the wildest rumors.

Still in mourning for her father, she had barely stepped out from the shadow of loss before she was buried under a deluge of slander and blame.

Amid broken cries, Qiao Jiu finally asked, “Lu Fengzhou, do you hate me that much?”

His movements froze. Then he grabbed her chin, a little roughly, his voice hoarse with breathlessness. “What do you think?”

Qiao Jiu laughed after a while, her voice faltering, “All this time, I keep wondering—just where, exactly, have I wronged you?”

Lu Fengzhou didn’t answer, only tightened his hold and leaned in, biting down on her shoulder.

He chose the same spot she’d bitten him, but Qiao Jiu lacked his tolerance for pain and cried out, “That hurts.”

He didn’t let go, though the pressure eased.

Turning her head, Qiao Jiu caught sight of the marks she’d left on his shoulder earlier—she hadn’t gone easy, and the faint bluish imprints remained.

After a while, he finally released her, turning his bite into a kiss, softening the mark he’d left.

Most of the time, Qiao Jiu couldn’t read Lu Fengzhou. He seemed to hate her, yet he couldn’t control his desire to tangle with her body.

But isn’t hatred supposed to come with disgust?

She didn’t know how long it lasted before the car finally stilled.

Lying in the backseat, Qiao Jiu was spent, too exhausted to even move her fingers.

Lu Fengzhou sat up, pulled his shirt over her, and said, “Stay away from Liang Xiucheng.”