Chapter 77: If You Touch Me Again, I Will Feel Defiled

Wen Zhixia spoke in a calm voice: "I never said I lost the child because of the kidnapping."

She had never mentioned it, but when he misunderstood, she had never bothered to explain, either.

Gu Pingsheng looked at her composed, indifferent demeanor. In the past, it hadn’t bothered him, but now he found it truly infuriating, as if punching into cotton—soft, yielding, and impossible to hurt.

His breath grew heavier. He turned his head back to the third kidnapper and demanded, "Who ordered you?"

The man hesitated, as if weighing something in his heart.

Gu Pingsheng raised his hand, and the bodyguard behind the man suddenly twisted his arm back, a sharp crack resounding through the air. The man’s arm bent at an unnatural angle, and pain drove him to the side, his scream echoing with agony.

His accomplices, the first and second men, watched in horror, their eyes wide with dread.

No one is truly unafraid of death.

"Who hired you?" Gu Pingsheng asked again, his tone low and cold.

The third man’s teeth chattered from pain. "I… I… It was a middle-aged man in a wheelchair."

"What’s his name?"

"I don’t… I really don’t know, I swear."

Gu Pingsheng, unsatisfied, twirled the knife in his hand and moved menacingly toward the other two.

Wen Zhixia frowned. "Gu Ping—"

A scream burst out as the blade gouged a bloody hole in the second man’s thigh, his eyes nearly bulging out.

Gu Pingsheng tore the cloth from his mouth, his gaze dark as ink and razor-sharp. "Who hired you?"

The man shook his head, wildly, until Gu Pingsheng yanked the knife out.

"Zheng! His surname is Zheng!" the first man blurted as his gag was ripped away.

Gu Pingsheng paused, knife raised, and looked at him. "Are you sure?"

"I overheard it," the man rushed to explain. "When he called, someone called him Director Zheng. Please, let us go. We’re just hired hands. If you want justice, find the real culprit. We never meant to truly hurt her…"

"Let you go? Fine," Gu Pingsheng replied, wiping the blood from his knife. "Take them to the hillside and make sure they roll down."

With that, he grabbed Wen Zhixia’s hand and strode out of the warehouse.

His strides were long and swift, leaving Wen Zhixia struggling to keep up, her steps stumbling. She tried to shake off his grip, but he held on too tightly for her to break free.

"Gu Pingsheng, are you trying to be reborn?!" Wen Zhixia stopped, her brow furrowed in anger.

Her silence had only fueled Gu Pingsheng’s fury. At her outburst, he pressed her back against the car’s hood with his long arm. "Why did you lie to me?! What happened with the child?!"

Wen Zhixia propped her arm against his chest, forcing distance between them. "Then whose child is Zhao Fuhe carrying?"

He gripped her wrist tightly, his eyes as deep as the sea. "Did you never trust me?"

Wen Zhixia looked at him, finding it all too laughable. "If we’re talking about turning the tables, who could possibly do it better than you, President Gu?" She jabbed a finger into his chest. "Can you honestly say you never touched her? You’re busy all day with work and home, yet you still find time to flirt with women outside. If you keep this up, will your body hold out? I’ve even made room for you—shouldn’t that make things perfect?"

"As for the divorce, get that thought out of your head!" He seized her pointing hand. "If you’re not pregnant, if you didn’t have a miscarriage, I don’t mind proving it to you!"

He dragged her toward the car, his heated lips trailing across her cheek and neck—a gesture that once felt intimate but now was unbearable.

Whenever he drew close, Wen Zhixia couldn’t help but recall that snowy night, the couple embracing and kissing in front of Cheng Yaju.

He kissed her, but who knew how many times he’d kissed Zhao Fuhe, or how many other women, behind her back?

"Don’t touch me!" she said.

But Gu Pingsheng seemed not to hear.

Only when a sharp slap echoed in the car did he look deeply and coldly at her. Wen Zhixia pushed open the door, and as she got out, she lowered her gaze and said, "Gu Pingsheng, if you touch me again, I’ll feel filthy."

His pupils contracted violently, his eyes snapping up. Even after she drove away, he couldn’t recover from her words.

She had said—she would feel filthy.

Never in his life had Gu Pingsheng imagined that the always quiet, reserved Wen Zhixia, who treated everyone with a measured courtesy, would one day stab him so mercilessly in the heart.

The three kidnappers were pushed down the hillside, the ropes binding them left untouched. Their internal organs were thrown into chaos, and as their screams faded, the police waiting below took them all away.

When Gu Pingsheng received the call, he merely grunted in response, then ordered someone to find Zheng Xuancheng. "If he thinks sitting in a wheelchair is uncomfortable, then let him lie in a hospital bed for the rest of his life. When he goes mad, send him straight to the asylum."

"Understood."

He hung up. Gu Pingsheng’s long fingers rubbed his phone, then he slammed his fist hard onto the steering wheel.

He had wanted to question her about the child, but instead, he had been thoroughly humiliated.

His fist clenched over his heart, a pain pressing in his chest.

Wen Zhixia did not go home. Instead, she drove straight to Yulouchun Entertainment Club. She hadn’t called ahead, but Jebon quickly approached her after her arrival. "Miss Wen."

Wen Zhixia acknowledged him with a soft hum, saying nothing more.

Seeing her lack of enthusiasm, Jebon suggested, "A new gym just opened upstairs this month. If you’re interested, I’d be happy to… work out with you?"

There was a suggestive note in his words. In a club like Yulouchun, everyone knew what kind of "gym" this was.

The so-called fitness activities between men and women here, with thin workout clothes and close cooperation, quickly sparked a different kind of chemistry.

This was the time for male escorts to showcase their stamina—after all, women who spent money here weren’t looking for the weak. A strong body and lasting endurance were their lifelines.

It was still early, and the club usually didn’t fill up until evening, so the gym was almost empty.

Few people, ambiguous lighting—any hint from a woman could turn every piece of equipment into a hundred possible games.

Jebon changed into a black tank top and matching sports shorts, a white wristband around his arm. His muscular figure radiated testosterone. In this line of work, he couldn’t afford to let himself go—his physique was his livelihood.

He casually draped his arm over the back of Wen Zhixia’s chair. "Miss Wen, stretching alone isn’t much fun. Should we try a partner workout?"

Wen Zhixia glanced at him but said nothing.

Jebon wasn’t embarrassed, continuing, "You keep in great shape, Miss Wen. Do you come to the gym often?"

"Occasionally I do some yoga."

Talking about fitness in a gym was only natural, but Wen Zhixia was clearly harder to please than any woman Jebon had met before. Most women who came here were seeking pleasure—a few words, some flirting, and if both were interested, they’d be off to a room in no time.

But Wen Zhixia seemed to take "fun" at face value, just here to play. This made Jebon anxious—after all, with a woman like her, he’d gladly go to bed with her for free, let alone for payment.

If he didn’t move quickly, who knew which colleague would swoop in first.

"That equipment over there was bought at a high price from abroad. Care to try it with me?" Jebon leaned forward, his chest almost touching her back, showing off his assets. "If you have any suggestions, the boss will be happy to hear them."

This time, Wen Zhixia didn’t refuse.

When they tried a stretching exercise, Jebon took off her shoes and lifted her foot to rest on his abs. Wen Zhixia paused. "Is this an exercise?"

Jebon chuckled. "Of course. We’re all about service. If you’re satisfied, maybe you’ll sign up for a gym membership and help me hit my quota."

His humorous answer eased the atmosphere between them.

Wen Zhixia curved her lips slightly, saying nothing more.

Outside, Zhao Fuhe saw Wen Zhixia enter Yulouchun and thought she must be seeing things. But when she saw, with her own eyes, Wen Zhixia in the gym getting cozy with a man, her heart raced uncontrollably.

She was so agitated her hands trembled as she took photos with her phone.

But in her excitement, she forgot to turn off the camera’s shutter sound. The click echoed through the quiet gym, loud and clear.

Wen Zhixia turned toward the sound. Zhao Fuhe had taken two photos and was about to leave.

"Stop that woman," Wen Zhixia ordered.

Jebon glanced over, then walked quickly to the door and caught Zhao Fuhe just as she was leaving. "Miss, someone inside would like to see you."

When Zhao Fuhe looked up, Jebon was momentarily stunned, thinking he was seeing a second Wen Zhixia.

It wasn’t that they looked exactly alike—aside from a hint of similarity in their eyes, their features were different—but their style and makeup were so similar that at first glance they could be mistaken for each other.

Wen Zhixia draped a large workout towel over her shoulders and sat in a chair nearby. "Miss Zhao, you really are… haunting."

"Wen Zhixia, getting cozy with a man in a place like this—how can you face your husband?" Zhao Fuhe tried to seize the moral high ground.

Wen Zhixia gave a cold, indifferent smile. "What kind of place is this? The saying goes, ‘A dog doesn’t dislike a poor home.’ You, Miss Zhao, came up from Junyue as a hostess, and just because you’ve climbed a little higher, you look down on this kind of place? Don’t forget your roots."

Her gaze was mocking as she finished, "Don’t forget where you came from."

The humiliation of being cast out and the shame of being abandoned on the streets washed over Zhao Fuhe, making her sharp and bitter. "If that’s forgetting your roots, then what are you? You have a husband and yet you’re still out here seducing men, behaving like a—"

A loud slap cut her off as Wen Zhixia rose and struck her without hesitation.