Chapter 28: Gu Pingsheng, She Does Not Love You

Zhang Zhiyan thought that perhaps, all those years ago, at the negotiation table, that fleeting glance—a woman of delicate beauty, a hint of cool detachment at her brows and eyes, composed and courteous yet with an unblemished core—had already settled into his heart.

A pity, though, that she belonged to Gu Pingsheng.

Her eyes and heart held only Gu Pingsheng.

Perhaps even fate felt they deserved another chance, and today, it was laid plainly before him.

Gu Pingsheng did not deserve her.

“Zhixia, you once said you loved me. I have never forgotten those words. Gu Pingsheng can’t give you what you want.”

Zhang Zhiyan lingered over her brows and eyes, unable to pull away.

Wen Zhixia, wracked with discomfort, instinctively leaned closer to him; her compliance and initiative made the string taut in Zhang Zhiyan’s heart snap entirely.

“Pingsheng.”

Her lips parted, arms wrapped his neck like a lost deer seeking refuge.

Zhang Zhiyan heard clearly whom she called, a shadow darkening his eyes.

Her gaze was misty, her breath chaotic. “I feel so uncomfortable.”

She was like an enchantress, her pure features somehow exuding an irresistible allure. His breathing grew rapid; perhaps now he understood why Gu Pingsheng, even with other women outside, refused to let go here.

Who, having possessed such a woman, would willingly let her lie in another man’s arms?

“I’ll help you. From now on, you’ll be mine…” Zhang Zhiyan murmured.

Inside the car, the temperature slowly rose.

A sharp crash—

The windshield shattered with a loud bang, the sound abruptly halting Zhang Zhiyan’s movements.

The glass, in an instant, resembled a spider’s web, and a blurred figure holding a metal pipe gazed coldly into the car.

Zhang Zhiyan recognized the intruder and quickly covered Wen Zhixia with his jacket.

He assumed the stance of a man protecting his woman, causing Gu Pingsheng’s eyes to burn red with rage.

With another metallic clang, Gu Pingsheng tossed the pipe aside and yanked open the car door, dragging Zhang Zhiyan out.

Before Zhang Zhiyan could steady himself, Gu Pingsheng landed a heavy punch on his face, eyes crimson with fury. “You dare touch her!”

Zhang Zhiyan, slammed against the car, wiped blood from his mouth. “So angry? Even if something happened between us, it’s only natural—after all, President Gu, you yourself indulge outside with women.”

Gu Pingsheng’s gaze darkened. Zhang Zhiyan straightened, stepped forward, mocking, “Have you forgotten? Zhixia said herself—she loves me.”

Veins bulged on Gu Pingsheng’s hand, knuckles cracking as he raised his fist again. The two men grappled, their dignified reputations forgotten as they brawled on the street.

“Gu Pingsheng, she doesn’t love you. Not your father, not your mother—none of your kin like you. How dare you expect Wen Zhixia to love a man like you? You broke her wings, kept a woman who should have soared in the business world caged at home, a canary for you alone. Did you ever care for her feelings? All you do is force your will, wanting everyone to live as you dictate!”

Zhang Zhiyan’s words struck Gu Pingsheng like blows to his heart. He punched Zhang Zhiyan’s face, shouting, “What do you know!”

Gu Pingsheng had been a tyrant since childhood, fighting was as ordinary as eating. If not for meeting Wen Zhixia, he might have wandered down some dark, reckless path. Zhang Zhiyan had learned some self-defense, but compared to Gu Pingsheng’s lived experience, he was no match.

Gradually, Zhang Zhiyan began to falter.

“Which hand touched her?!”

Gu Pingsheng seized Zhang Zhiyan’s collar, his eyes deep and void of light.

Zhang Zhiyan sneered, “Want to break my hand?”

He didn’t believe Gu Pingsheng would go that far, but when Gu Pingsheng twisted his wrist into a grotesque angle without a blink, Zhang Zhiyan’s expression changed.

He thought Gu Pingsheng had grown calm and restrained, never expecting his madness was as unchecked as ever.

The agony in his wrist made him grunt.

With a groan, the car door was pushed open from inside, and Wen Zhixia stumbled out, collapsing onto the ground as her jacket slid from her shoulders.

Gu Pingsheng released Zhang Zhiyan, his gaze cold as he strode over, removing his coat and wrapping it tightly around her, roughly pulling her to her feet.

He gripped her shoulders, his face grim as he looked at Zhang Zhiyan. “Today I learned that even the lowly traits of a mistress can be inherited!”

Wen Zhixia, uncertain what had happened, writhed in Gu Pingsheng’s arms, her voice shaky. “Don’t… don’t fight anymore.”

Gu Pingsheng glanced down at her, tightening his embrace.

After a few moments, he bent to lift her, striding toward the car, his jaw taut, revealing his irritation and displeasure.

The seatbelt in the passenger seat held her firmly; she couldn’t struggle or move.

“Hot…”

A cool, pristine woman tinged with scarlet—like the unattainable moon caught in one’s arms, more intoxicating than the strongest wine.

That which belonged solely to him had been coveted by another man.

Gu Pingsheng drove home with a grim face, carrying her inside and tossing her onto the bed.

The soft mattress dipped beneath her, pale skin and dark hair contrasting against the Burberry silk sheets, stirring up chaotic desire.

She twisted restlessly on the bed.

Her state was clearly abnormal, but whenever Gu Pingsheng recalled that seductive scene she had displayed beside another man, his hand clenched at his side.

He approached; Wen Zhixia instinctively leaned into him.

“Who am I?” he asked, gripping her cheeks to force her gaze upon him, his voice icy and deep.

She could hardly comprehend his words.

Gu Pingsheng pressed harder on her chin. “You begged Zhang Zhiyan like this in the car, didn’t you? Wen Zhixia, look carefully—who am I?”

Her murmurs never uttered his name.

Gu Pingsheng’s barely contained rage collapsed as she kissed him and tugged at his shirt; yet all he saw was the scene of her and Zhang Zhiyan in the car.

Bang.

The bathroom door was kicked open. As cold water showered down, Wen Zhixia was thrown into the bathtub.

When the water covered her cheeks, survival instinct made her grasp the edge.

Her dark hair floated in the water, beautiful even in disarray.

Gu Pingsheng stood over the tub; as she clung to the edge, he bent down, seized her cheeks, and demanded coldly, “Who am I?”

Her body burned with heat, but the water was icy—hot and cold clashing, leaving only shivers.

His gaze was frigid, and Wen Zhixia, shocked by the temperature shifts, regained a sliver of clarity.

Gu Pingsheng stepped into the tub, undid his shirt, touched her face. “Where did he touch you? Tell me.”

Smack.

Wen Zhixia, lips tightly pressed, slapped him, her cheeks flushed though her body was chilled. She couldn’t distinguish whether the cold came from the water or his words.

“Gu Pingsheng, you bastard!”

He wiped his lips, grabbed her arm, his dark eyes bottomless. “What, I hit him, so you hit me back? So affectionate—did I arrive too early and spoil your affair?!”

Wen Zhixia, overwhelmed by discomfort, had no idea what he was saying. “Let go of me.”

Let go—again. She was his woman, his wife; why should he let go?

“Where did he touch you? Here? Or here? Did he touch here?” He removed the towel, scrubbing at every place she might have been touched.

Water splashed from the tub as Wen Zhixia’s foot struck his jaw; as he winced from the pain, she tried to climb out.

But she was weak, every movement slow and labored.

Before she could escape, his long arm hauled her back into the tub.

“Gu Pingsheng, don’t you dare!”

Wen Zhixia glared furiously, her voice trembling with anger as he moved to act.

Rarely did she truly lose her temper with him; she seldom wore a cold face, usually yielding to him in big or small matters.

But now, she was genuinely furious.

Especially as he tried to use such methods.

Gu Pingsheng paused for a moment—she was angry?

What right did she have to be angry?

“Wen Zhixia, you should remember well whose woman you are—only I can touch you!” He gripped her cheeks, his palm supporting the back of her head to protect it from the tub’s edge.

Who knows how long passed before he carried the exhausted Wen Zhixia back to bed, her brows and eyes clouded with fatigue.

Gu Pingsheng left the bedroom for the study, lit a cigarette, and leaned against the broad chair. He did not turn on the light; in the darkness, only the red glow of the cigarette tip burned.

The smoke blurred his features, already hidden in the night.

“She said herself—she loved me!”

“She doesn’t love you, Gu Pingsheng. Not your father, not your mother—none of your kin like you. How dare you expect Wen Zhixia to love a man like you?”

Zhang Zhiyan’s voice echoed endlessly in his ears.

Gu Pingsheng shut his eyes, suddenly grabbing the ashtray to hurl it, but at the last moment, he stopped.

It was late; she had just fallen asleep.

Too much noise would wake her.

He set the ashtray back on the table, gripping its edge, letting out a sardonic laugh.

What did it matter whom she loved, or how deeply? In the end, she was his, in the end she would lie beneath him.

As for kin—did he care?

Ultimately, she would always stay by his side—she had promised.

She said she would always, always stay with him.

While his thoughts churned, the cigarette burned to its end, singeing his fingers, ashes falling into the tray.

At midnight, once calm returned, he went back to the bedroom.

The smell of smoke had faded; he stood beside the bed, quietly watching the sleeping woman.

She slept uneasily; even in slumber her brows were tightly knit, her cheeks flushed as she rubbed restlessly against the blanket.

Gu Pingsheng paused, frowned, and bent to touch her forehead with the back of his middle finger.

The scorching heat made his expression tighten.

He touched her cheek—indeed, she was burning with fever.

Was it the medicine in her body, or the cold water from earlier?

In the middle of the night, they went to the hospital, where the attending physician was nearly retired.

After examining her, the doctor asked, “38.5 degrees—how did it get this bad before you brought her in? Is it a cold or…” He glanced at Gu Pingsheng. “Or is there another reason?”

Years in practice had taught him that Wen Zhixia’s fever was not from an ordinary cold.

Gu Pingsheng’s face remained calm. “She was drugged, took a cold bath, then…”

He left the rest unsaid, but his expression told everything.

The doctor asked, “What is your relationship?”

Gu Pingsheng replied, “Husband and wife.”

“Did you give her the medication?”

Gu Pingsheng’s eyes darkened.

“Routine question. If you gave it, tell me what kind, so I can prescribe accordingly.”

“No.”

The doctor paused, looked at him, then approached Wen Zhixia. “Besides the medicine, does she have any other conditions? Any… signs of inflammation?”

He was simply inquiring, but as he bent closer, Gu Pingsheng misunderstood and blocked him. “What are you doing?!”

The doctor looked up, “I’m old—straightening up takes effort. If I don’t stretch, I can’t reach the medicine bottle that needs replacing.”

Gu Pingsheng followed his gaze to see an empty IV bottle left on the stand.

He removed it and set it aside.

While prescribing, the doctor remarked, “Young people are so impulsive. The girl is so frail, she can’t withstand such rough treatment. Since she’s your wife, you should cherish her, not act recklessly. With such a beautiful wife, you ought to count your blessings…”

He had another sentence, but seeing Gu Pingsheng’s grim face, he left it unsaid: If you don’t cherish her, you won’t be the only man in the world.

At three in the morning, even the hospital was quiet.

Gu Pingsheng sat by the bed, watching the unconscious Wen Zhixia, his brows tightly furrowed. He shouldn’t have lost control because of Zhang Zhiyan’s words, shouldn’t have forced her.

She was gentle yet strong, yielding to kindness, not force. When she woke, who knew how she would resent him.

“When will she wake up?”

As the nurse came to change the IV, Gu Pingsheng asked in a low voice.

He was handsome—a type women easily favored. Years of managing a company had given him an air of refinement that made him hard to ignore.

The nurse blushed as their eyes met. “She… she should wake up after the IV is finished.”

After all, two or three bottles’ worth—no normal person could avoid needing the restroom.

She had never seen anyone sleep through an IV without being forced awake.

Gu Pingsheng, satisfied, again fixed his gaze on Wen Zhixia’s face.

“You… you can rest on the sofa. This drip goes slowly.” The nurse kindly suggested before leaving.

But the man said nothing more until she left the room.

Just as the last IV bottle was replaced, Wen Zhixia woke.

Having received two bottles, her throat burned with the taste of medicine, making her want to gag.

She disliked the taste, her brows instinctively furrowing. Seeing the IV bottle above her, she realized she was in the hospital.

Her whole body felt disassembled and reassembled, aching everywhere; when she moved, she groaned and fell back onto the bed, powerless.

“Don’t move, or the needle will bleed back.”

Her sound made Gu Pingsheng, who had been resting on the sofa, suddenly open his eyes.

Seeing her attempt to rise, he hurried over to stop her.

By now, Four Corners City was at dawn, sunlight streaming through the windows, bathing the floor and rendering the indoor lights pointless.

Everything seemed freshly reset.

Wen Zhixia avoided his outstretched hand as if he were a stranger, her gaze never once touching him.

“Xiaxia~~”

His arm remained suspended, frozen in midair. “Don’t be angry with me. I apologize.”

“Nurse, please help me to the restroom.”

As if she hadn’t heard him, Wen Zhixia pressed the call bell for the nurse.

The nurse paused upon entering, seeing Gu Pingsheng at her side. Weren’t these two husband and wife? Why would the husband need to avoid his wife going to the restroom?

Though puzzled, she said nothing.

The nurse deftly took the IV bottle, thinking it would be easy to assist Wen Zhixia, but when Wen Zhixia got up, her steps were weak, like a toddler learning to walk, barely able to stand.

The nurse’s surprised look made Wen Zhixia feel unprecedented humiliation.

She had evidently forgotten this part; when one holds a stiff, unnatural posture for too long, it takes time to adjust.

Wen Zhixia closed her eyes—she had embarrassed herself enough. If she kept forcing herself, she’d only make a bigger scene. She forced a smile, “I’ll go later, you can attend to your other duties. Thank you.”

She turned to sit back on the bed, but in the next moment, her body suddenly lifted.

“I’ll carry you,” he said.

Wen Zhixia: “Let go.”

“Can you manage on your own now?” he asked.

His words easily ignited the anger Wen Zhixia buried beneath her composure; she wanted to lash out, but for her temperament, shouting or hysteria would never come easily.

Yet the frustration and fury in her heart demanded an outlet.