Chapter 95: Wen Zhixia, You Have No Heart

"Our lady does not lack these things, and the doctor has warned her not to consume anything unclean or unsuitable. Her stomach is delicate. Miss Zhao, please take it back."

“Slap.”

Zhao Fuhe raised her hand and struck Aunt Zhao across the face.

The blow left not only Aunt Zhao stunned, but also caused Wen Zhixia and Aunt Wang, standing nearby, to freeze momentarily.

Yet Zhao Fuhe acted as if nothing had happened, flexing her wrist. "I'm speaking to my senior sister. What right does a servant or a nanny have to interrupt? If the senior sister can't discipline people, then I’ll take on that task."

Wen Zhixia put down her spoon and gazed at Aunt Zhao’s reddened cheek. Her calm eyes darkened slightly as she said, "Aunt Wang, go close the door."

Though uncertain of her intentions, Aunt Wang did not hesitate.

After the door was shut, Wen Zhixia glanced at Aunt Zhao, who was holding her face, clearly struck. Her serene features took on a somber tone as her lips moved: "Aunt Zhao, hit her back."

Hearing Wen Zhixia’s words, Aunt Zhao’s gaze toward Zhao Fuhe turned hostile. Anyone struck unexpectedly would harbor resentment.

Zhao Fuhe stepped back defiantly. "What are you doing? I belong to the senior! You’re just a nanny hired by the senior. How dare you lay a hand on me?!"

“Hmph,” Wen Zhixia smirked coldly. If it were Gu Pingsheng who provoked her, she wouldn’t hesitate to fight back. Why would she shy away now? "Aunt Wang, hold her down. Hit her!"

“Slap!”

A crisp slap landed heavily on Zhao Fuhe’s face, her makeup smeared. Aunt Zhao, accustomed to hard labor, wielded a force far greater than Zhao Fuhe could have imagined.

The slap swelled half of Zhao Fuhe’s face, tearing the corner of her mouth.

She screamed in agony, struggling to call out, but her strength was no match for two middle-aged women accustomed to physical labor.

Wen Zhixia didn’t even blink at her screams. “Aunt Zhao, continue.”

Aunt Zhao nodded and delivered another sharp slap to the other side of Zhao Fuhe’s face.

By nature, Wen Zhixia disliked direct confrontation—not because of fear, but because she believed that even if you offend someone, it should not be done openly. Maintaining a facade of harmony was an unspoken rule in high society.

Brutish, shameless violence was low-class and unbecoming. Yet sometimes, only tit-for-tat could provide a sense of satisfaction.

Aunt Wang glanced at Wen Zhixia, and seeing no order to continue, released Zhao Fuhe. Losing support, Zhao Fuhe collapsed to the ground.

After two slaps, Aunt Zhao felt some relief from her pent-up frustration.

On the floor, Zhao Fuhe clutched her face and glared fiercely at Wen Zhixia, who calmly sipped her soup. Suddenly, Zhao Fuhe took out her phone.

Wen Zhixia assumed she was recording evidence of the assault, but instead Zhao Fuhe played a recording of a conversation with Gu Pingsheng from the previous day in the corridor.

“Senior doesn’t like me anymore… He was so gentle and passionate with me in bed, agreeing to everything. Why now does he refuse even my wish to return home? If that’s the case, what’s the point of me staying here?”

“If you love him so much, then go back.”

“I knew senior would agree, but won’t senior sister be upset?”

Wen Zhixia heard Gu Pingsheng’s voice: “Repurchase Cheng Yaju.”

Zhao Fuhe stood, her split lip hampering her expression, but her eyes gleamed triumphantly as she shouted, “Wen Zhixia, listen carefully! I really don’t understand you. Didn’t you say you can’t stand a speck of dust in your eyes? Then why are you still clinging to him? Even if you kicked me out of Cheng Yaju, so what? I can get back there in a moment.

You think he cares so much about you, but he only values his own past—from nothing to everything—and you just happen to be the witness to that journey. If he truly loved you, how could he have touched me? I know you’ll say it was to treat your illness, but that’s laughable. He’s the CEO of Gu Xia Group and has countless ways—why would he choose to sleep with me?

From the moment he saw me at Junyue, he took me away from there. What does that mean? He likes me, and you’re just a tasteless, expendable piece of chicken rib to him.”

Wen Zhixia listened quietly, lifting her gaze. “Done talking?”

Aunt Zhao and Aunt Wang looked at Zhao Fuhe with anger, feeling the two slaps were too light. They wished they had shattered her mouth. Nowadays, shameless women lacked even basic decency, brazenly destroying families while speaking so self-righteously!

Zhao Fuhe touched her face and defiantly raised her chin. “Senior sister, are you mad?”

Aunt Zhao glanced at Wen Zhixia, then suddenly grabbed Zhao Fuhe by the hair and dragged her out of the ward, pulling with such force it seemed she might tear the scalp off. The pain contorted Zhao Fuhe’s features.

“Ah!! You shameless wretch, let go of me!”

“You lowly nanny! Let me go! Help!!”

“Help!!”

The commotion at the ward’s door drew many eyes. Aunt Wang promptly closed the door, muffling most of the noise.

“Madam, please continue eating. It’s not worth bothering with such shameless people,” Aunt Wang said.

Wen Zhixia picked up her spoon, her brows slightly furrowed, lost in thought.

“Senior, senior save me!” Zhao Fuhe screamed when Gu Pingsheng arrived.

Behind him was Zhou Anbei, who fixed a stern gaze on Aunt Zhao, still holding Zhao Fuhe’s hair. “What are you doing?”

Seeing them, Aunt Zhao released her grip.

Zhao Fuhe burst into tears and lunged toward Gu Pingsheng. Zhou Anbei stepped forward, offering tissues with a polite smile: “Miss Zhao, wipe your face. Your makeup is ruined.”

Zhao Fuhe took the tissues, but Zhou Anbei didn’t step aside, so she couldn’t fall into Gu Pingsheng’s arms. She sobbed, recounting her grievances while raising her swollen, bruised face toward him. “I was only kind enough to visit senior sister, spending the entire morning making chicken soup for her, but... but... sob…”

Aunt Zhao, irritated by this woman’s shameless victim act, retorted, “President Gu, don’t listen to her nonsense. She was speaking nonsense in front of madam, claiming you had... you know, with her, and even mocking madam. Madam said nothing. It was I who couldn’t stand her attitude. I hit her face. She hit me, too. Look at my face.”

Distorting the truth was not Zhao Fuhe’s exclusive talent.

Aunt Zhao was no saint either. Her ex-husband was seduced away by a mistress, leaving her and her daughter helpless. So she detested such homewreckers, especially since she thought Wen Zhixia was a decent person.

Zhou Anbei glanced at Gu Pingsheng, whose expression was dark and forbidding, then said, “I’ll take Miss Zhao to get her face treated. She’s so beautiful; it would be a shame if she ended up with scars.”

Since her livelihood depended on her looks and benefactors, she surely cared about her face. Zhou Anbei bowed politely.

When Gu Pingsheng entered the ward, Wen Zhixia was still sipping her chicken soup.

She ate slowly and deliberately like a kitten at home, not consuming much but taking a good deal of time.

Not saying a word when he arrived, she continued sipping calmly.

Aunt Wang greeted him, glanced at Wen Zhixia, and left.

“Zhao Fuhe came to bother you again?” He sat by the bed, brushing the stray hair behind her ear. “Once your surgery is done…”

“Clatter.”

Wen Zhixia threw the remaining half bowl of chicken soup and the porcelain spoon at him. Though little was left, it was enough to stain his clothes.

Gu Pingsheng looked down at the soup on his jacket, where two small vegetable leaves floated.

“Get out,” Wen Zhixia said impatiently.

Gu Pingsheng pursed his lips, took off his jacket—his suit beneath untouched but he removed it anyway—rolling up his sleeves, revealing his forearms.

“Are you full?” he asked.

Wen Zhixia was irritated by his indulgence, as if she were the one causing trouble. “Didn’t you hear me? Get out.”

Gu Pingsheng thought that she must be too weak now; otherwise, she might scratch his face again.

The scratches on his face from a few days ago drew attention at work, forcing him to explain repeatedly that the household kitten was a bit fierce and not to be touched.

“I’ll go out. Who’ll refill your soup?” He rinsed her small white bowl with water, then poured warm chicken soup from the thermos and handed it back.

She glanced at him with a slight frown, annoyed.

Gu Pingsheng scooped a spoonful, blew on it, and brought it to her lips. “Drink some more, or you won’t even have the strength to smash bowls.”

“Gu Pingsheng, don’t joke around with me,” she said sternly, her clear brows full of rejection and displeasure.

He hesitated, his smile fading. “Xiaxia, tell me, what do you want? I know you’re unhappy and you don’t like this, but I can’t control everything. I just want you to live well, do you understand? It’s just Zhao Fuhe. If you don’t want to see her, then agree to the surgery. Once it’s done, you won’t see her again. Isn’t that enough?”

To Gu Pingsheng, this was a simple matter. As long as it was legal, he would not fuss over methods to achieve cooperation.

She had never spoken out or opposed it before, so why now?

It was just Zhao Fuhe. He could indulge her, pamper her, elevate her, but could just as easily reduce her to nothing overnight.

“So, you can be intimate with her, hug her, kiss her, even… sleep with her? As long as you get what you want, right?” Wen Zhixia asked coldly.

She didn’t know when Gu Pingsheng had become so ruthless, willing to do anything to achieve his goals without a shred of remorse.

“As long as the result is what I desire, does the process matter?” He cupped her face, his breath warm against her cheek, eyes dark and gleaming. “From the start, you judged me. Nothing I did pleased you. You didn’t trust me, doubted me, treated me coldly. Wen Zhixia, you have no heart.”

He bit her lip in a vengeful gesture, then set down the bowl and left before she could retort.

“Make sure she finishes the soup before resting. Watch her drink it,” he said sternly to Aunt Wang at the door.

His tone implied he was angry, as if he had poisoned the soup and needed someone to ensure Wen Zhixia drank it all.

Aunt Wang nodded. “Yes, President Gu.”

When Aunt Zhao returned, she brushed past Gu Pingsheng leaving. “President Gu.”

He halted, fixing her with a cold, forbidding gaze for several seconds. Aunt Zhao swallowed nervously, wondering if he planned to blame her for hitting Zhao Fuhe.

Before she could defend herself, Gu Pingsheng said, “Take good care of her.”

Aunt Zhao looked up in surprise, but he was already walking away.

When Shen Wenyan called, Wen Zhixia answered, but there was only faint breathing on the other end. She wondered if it was a misdial.

“Is there something you need?” she asked.

After a long pause, Shen Wenyan, leaning against a sofa, finally spoke. “Are you really… Gu Pingsheng’s wife?”

Wen Zhixia replied with a simple “Yes.”

“Then why have you never said? If not for that lecture, would you have told me at all?” Shen Wenyan asked.

Wen Zhixia thought for a moment. Indeed, she hadn’t intended to hide it; she just saw no need. During their good times, she hadn’t flaunted it, especially now, amid divorce preparations.

“No need,” she said.

Shen Wenyan pressed his lips together. “Then why did you keep me? Are things between you and Gu Pingsheng bad?”

Wen Zhixia hesitated. “That was just a joke. You’re a distant relative of Xu Qichen. Since you needed help, I wouldn’t just ignore it.”

She felt a bit helpless recalling her casual words at Yulouchun, overhearing wealthy wives’ teasing remarks.

She never expected Shen Wenyan to take it to heart.

“Xu Qichen… you helped me because of him?” Shen Wenyan was stunned by the outcome.

Wen Zhixia touched her forehead. “Half and half. Helping you started as a favor. Later, bringing you back was because of him.”

“Do you hate me?” Shen Wenyan’s ears reddened as he asked.

“No,” Wen Zhixia answered.

If she hated him, even Xu Qichen’s request wouldn’t have made her appear personally.

Shen Wenyan smiled. “I like you very much. I can tell your relationship with Gu Pingsheng isn’t as good as they say. I can wait for you. Even if you don’t divorce, you don’t need to look for other men. I—I’m willing.”

Then he hung up.

Wen Zhixia stared at the disconnected call, her breath caught. Willing to what? Be her second man?

Her brow furrowed. She decided she must find a chance to clarify this ridiculous notion.

When Zhang Zhanrong entered, Wen Zhixia was still pondering how to dissuade Shen Wenyan.

“…What are the chances of your recovery?”

Wen Zhixia looked up. Though he was an elder, she felt no respect for him.

Born and not raised, unworthy as a father.

“Director Zhang, did you come specifically to inquire about my illness?” Gu Pingsheng’s personality meant he wouldn’t broadcast her condition, so Zhang Zhanrong’s quick knowledge and visit suggested he’d been watching her and Gu Pingsheng closely.

Zhang Zhanrong was a crafty old fox; he wouldn’t miss the coldness in her tone. “The doctors told me that even if you recover, you won’t be able to conceive for some time. You and Pingsheng aren’t young. Both the Gu Xia Group and Zhang family’s businesses need heirs.”

The implication was clear: her inability to bear children would hinder Gu Pingsheng.

Though Wen Zhixia was preparing for divorce, that did not mean she could be treated like market produce, judged as either a basket or refuse.

“Isn’t Director Zhang’s son, Zhang Zhiyan, the real head? From what you say, one might think Zhang intends to discard Zhang Zhiyan and hand the inheritance to Gu Pingsheng. But…” She paused, her gaze sharp and cold. “But those in the know understand it’s the Zhang Group. Those who don’t might think there’s a throne to inherit.”

The Qing Dynasty had been gone for centuries. She realized her value was merely as a baby-making machine.

Her words were sharp: three parts sarcasm, seven parts mockery. Zhang Zhanrong’s face darkened. “Is this how you speak to your elders? So rude.”

Wen Zhixia’s tone was flat. “My upbringing wouldn’t let me judge a patient’s worth by her fertility. If Director Zhang believes a woman’s value lies in childbearing, then perhaps you should look for a different species. Maybe you’d find that more pleasing.”

A sow could birth a litter at once, perhaps more to his liking.

Zhang Zhanrong stood abruptly. “You… insolent!”

Wen Zhixia wondered why so many people sought her out today, looking for validation. Did she give them the impression that she was easy prey?

“If you’re finished, Director Zhang, please leave. I’m ill, very tired, and about to rest.” She called Aunt Wang to lower her bed, covered herself, and closed her eyes.

Outside, Zhang Zhiyan overheard the entire exchange, smirking knowingly.

“Different species, huh?”

Indeed, a top scholar—insulting without a single curse word.