The servant threw Song Qi Nian to the ground, raining down blows and kicks. But Song Qi Nian was no pushover—she fought back with every ounce of strength she could muster, seizing any opportunity to strike.
Servants from outside heard the commotion and rushed in, pulling the slightly chubby servant away from her. "You'll pay for this!" the servant snarled. "You'll never have a good day in the Shen family again!"
Dragged out still hurling threats, the servant left Song Qi Nian crumpled on the ground. Nobody seemed to care. If anything, some seemed to relish her suffering.
Lying on the cold floor, Song Qi Nian's initial fury gave way to a deep, aching sadness. Voiceless, she could only cry out internally: "Dad, Nian Nian misses you so much..."
In her mind's eye, she saw her father, Song Guanliang, bending down. He gently lifted her, his hand softly stroking her head. "Nian Nian, be good. Dad is here. No one will hurt you." Her tears came faster, more intensely.
Outside, rain hammered against the windows. Shen Chi Yan returned home, a chill surrounding him. Servants immediately rushed to greet him.
Noticing Song Qi Nian's absence from the living room, he frowned. "Where is she?"
The chubby servant, her face marked by fresh scratches, wept dramatically. She spun a tale of how Song Qi Nian had attacked her—splashing soup, scratching her face, beating her and then throwing her out.
Her face was indeed red, with visible marks from Song Qi Nian's fingernails.
Shen Chi Yan recalled how Song Qi Nian had beaten Director Liang until he was bloody. Compared to that, handling a servant was nothing.
"Bring her to me," he said coldly.
The servant couldn't hide her inner triumph, smugly pushing open the basement door.
Seeing Song Qi Nian lying on the bed, the servant yanked her blanket away without hesitation.
Song Qi Nian's head throbbed with pain, her body burning. When she recognized the slightly chubby servant, she tried to react, but the servant's triumphant voice cut through her daze.
"Master has returned. He wants to see you. You're finished now!"
In the dining hall, Shen Chi Yan's face was dark as storm clouds. The sight of Song Qi Nian's frail body only intensified his anger.
Song Qi Nian sensed the rage radiating from him and froze, instinctively keeping her distance.
"Come here!" Shen Chi Yan's icy command made her clench her teeth. She inched closer, each step careful and measured.
"Why aren't you eating?"
She couldn't meet his eyes, pain shooting through her body—especially her chest. Shen Chi Yan's rare show of concern was never about her. It was always about her blood.
He had no patience for explanations. "Eat everything on the table," he ordered coldly.
Song Qi Nian glanced at the dishes. Fungus king black chicken soup, longan, red dates, lotus seed porridge, duck blood vermicelli—all meant to nourish her qi and blood. But she knew better. She was allergic to fungi and longan. Duck blood made her stomach turn. She stood motionless.
Shen Chi Yan's patience snapped. He stood, crossed the room, and forcibly pushed her into a chair.
"Do you think you're something special?" he snarled. "Bullying servants, giving me attitude? Is this a protest because I won't help your father? Who do you think you are?"
Her wrist throbbed. Servants watched with barely concealed glee. She clenched her fists, her face pale with pain and humiliation.
He didn't know—couldn't care less—that these foods could kill her.
"Eat," he demanded. "These dishes, you'll consume every last bite."
His next words cut deeper than any physical pain. "Don't forget why you're here. Your father lives. Your mother and brother survive—all because of your blood. If you can't even do this much, what use are you to me?"
Shen Chi Yan scooped a spoonful of black chicken soup and forcefully shoved it into Song Qi Nian's mouth.
"Cough cough..."
Song Qi Nian erupted in violent coughing, spattering the soup across Shen Chi Yan. A look of pure disgust darkened his face, his expression growing more menacing by the second.
He shoved her away roughly, glaring at her continuous coughing. "Watch her," he barked at the servants. "She doesn't leave until everything's gone."
The servants were tired, eager to finish up and rest. They weren't about to wait around while Song Qi Nian picked at her food.
Some held her down while others brandished large spoons, force-feeding her mercilessly. Song Qi Nian fought back, but her two small fists stood no chance against four stronger hands.
She burned with fever, her strength nearly gone. The nannies' faces looked monstrous to her—no different from demons. Each forced spoonful felt like torture.
Song Qi Nian lost track of how much they'd made her eat. Her body screamed in pain, her stomach a raging inferno.
Finally, they threw her into the basement like discarded trash.
Physical pain was nothing compared to the anguish in her heart. Shen Chi Yan had made her eat those dishes for one reason only: her blood. His heart and eyes were filled with Lin Qiu Tong. If she died right now, he wouldn't even bat an eye.
She curled up on the cold ground, hugging herself tightly. Tears fell uncontrollably as her consciousness began to fade.
That night, Shen Chi Yan received a call from Gong Yuqi. The actor, always busy with filming and events, had a rare moment of free time and wanted to drink and chat.
When Shen Chi Yan arrived, only Gong Yuqi occupied the private room.
He wore a golden silk shirt and black trousers, draped in his signature style. Gold was his obsession—a large gold chain hung from his slender, beautiful neck, even his belt glimmered gold.
On anyone else, the outfit might have screamed nouveau riche. But Gong Yuqi was different. With two shirt buttons casually undone, he looked effortlessly sexy and flamboyant.
Back when he first became famous, he'd actually started a gold fashion trend.
Soft, soothing music played in the room, carefully chosen to avoid disturbing Shen Chi Yan's dislike of noise.
"Oh, you're here," Gong Yuqi greeted.
"Why are you alone?"
"Si Nian has something and can't come. On this lonely night, it's just us two brothers, keeping each other company."
Gong Yuqi reached out to hug Shen Chi Yan, only to be coldly rebuffed.
Disappointed, he pouted, "Brother, your germaphobia is seriously something that needs treatment."
Shen Chi Yan remained silent, his dark eyes sweeping over the sofa with a displeased expression.
"Sit down and relax," Gong Yuqi reassured him. "Your exclusive sofa hasn't been touched by anyone. I had the service staff disinfect it specially when I arrived."
In Gong Yuqi's eyes, Shen Chi Yan was the epitome of perfection—handsome, with a body that put entertainment industry stars to shame. His only flaw was an obsessive germaphobia and extreme pickiness.
Sofas Shen Chi Yan sat on were strictly off-limits to others. Drinking cups had to be brand new, disinfected, and washed three times before use.
Gong Yuqi had once believed Shen Chi Yan would remain forever alone. Surprisingly, he was the first among their brothers to get married.
A mischievous glint appeared in his eyes. "So, how are things with your mute, delicate wife lately?"
0 Comments