Becoming the Runaway Little Wife of the Domineering CEO - Chapter 22

Fu Mang couldn’t quite fathom her own state of mind. If her goal was simply to make Jin Xiaoyu see reason and back off, surely she didn’t need to go this far?

After hanging up the phone, Fu Mang’s gaze drifted back to her computer screen. Watching the slender, diminutive figure in the surveillance feed, she couldn’t help but let a small smile tug at the corners of her lips. Regardless of the logic, if this allowed her to finally see a real reaction from Jin Xiaoyu, it would be worth it.

At noon, the two of them sat in a restaurant waiting for their order. Fu Mang cradled her tea cup, casually dropping the news of her upcoming blind date.

Yin Shuang’s brow furrowed instantly. “A blind date? Why?”

The buckwheat tea wasn’t bitter; it had a light, toasted fragrance that Fu Mang quite enjoyed. She kept her eyes lowered, staring at the golden liquid. “I’ve been single for a long time. I want to change my lifestyle. Is that not allowed?”

“It’s not that it’s not allowed…”

Yin Shuang trailed off, unsure of how to explain. To her, humans were ephemeral creatures with tragically short lifespans; at Fu Mang’s age, it made sense to put “major life events” on the agenda.

But the thought of Fu Mang sitting across from a total stranger—being scrutinized, evaluated, and measured as a potential spouse—made Yin Shuang feel incredibly unsettled. It wasn’t exactly jealousy, but rather a protective frustration.

Having been near Yin Shuang’s true form for years, Fu Mang was practically saturated with the auspicious aura of the Silver Frost Sword. She was a woman destined for a life of prosperity and smooth sailing. If she married just anyone, that person might become a weight around her neck, draining her fortune and dragging her down.

Yin Shuang kept thinking that she would be taking the sword away soon. When that happened, Fu Mang would have to survive on whatever scraps of auspicious aura she had left. Why was she in such a hurry to squander them?

Though Yin Shuang had told her “colleagues” she planned to become Fu Mang’s confidante and lover, she viewed it as a redundant backup plan—as long as one path worked, she’d get the sword. Since Fu Mang had explicitly confirmed she liked men, Yin Shuang figured she could probably drop the “lover” strategy altogether.

“When you go on this date,” Yin Shuang said, “can I come along?”

She figured she could at least help vet the man, ensuring Fu Mang’s questionable taste didn’t lead her to someone completely unworthy.

Fu Mang looked up, her eyes flashing with a sudden, playful spark. She broke into a grin. “Of course. After all, you follow me everywhere. Protecting me is your duty, isn’t it?”

Yin Shuang: “…” Wasn’t that exactly what I said to her?

Yin Shuang felt that the current Fu Mang was acting a bit differently than usual, but she couldn’t put her finger on how. She simply lowered her head and went back to her fresh-squeezed juice.

******

The blind date was set at an old-fashioned, prestigious restaurant. It wasn’t a trendy spot, but it had a long history and a stellar reputation among the locals. The interior was quiet and luxurious, designed in a breathtaking traditional garden style. Yin Shuang followed Fu Mang inside, though they didn’t sit at the same table.

Fu Mang sat Yin Shuang at a table diagonally across from her own before heading to her reservation. She had arrived thirty minutes early, and the man arrived ten minutes later—meaning he was still twenty minutes ahead of schedule.

At least he didn’t make the lady wait, Yin Shuang noted.

The man was a year older than Fu Mang. His family was in business—not quite as powerful as the Fu Group, but respectable. He was conventionally handsome and had a steady, composed air about him. Apparently, he was the designated heir to his family’s enterprise.

Polite, articulate, and kind—it was rare to find such a decent candidate at a blind date. It seemed Fu Quanru had actually put some effort into this.

Unfortunately, his efforts were wasted. No matter what the man said, Fu Mang wasn’t listening. Her eyes kept drifting toward Jin Xiaoyu.

After a while, the man noticed. He glanced over his shoulder and saw a girl sitting all alone, buried in her bowl of rice and eating with great gusto.

He chuckled softly. “Such a beautiful girl, eating all by herself.”

It was a casual observation, but Fu Mang turned to him sharply. “You think she’s beautiful?”

The man blinked, sensing he had stepped into a trap. He offered a gentle smile. “She is quite pretty. But not as beautiful as you, Miss Fu.”

Fu Mang glanced at Jin Xiaoyu again. The girl had been eating too fast and had apparently choked; she was currently busy ladling herself a bowl of soup. Fu Mang looked back down, stirring the food on her plate. “Really? I think she’s much prettier than I am.”

She spoke with a flat, detached expression. After a moment, she looked back at the man. “Look at her eyes. Aren’t they stunning?”

People in their social circle saw plenty of attractive men and women. While they didn’t suffer from “beauty fatigue,” it was rare for someone to truly take their breath away. The man had been genuinely struck by Fu Mang’s looks the moment he walked in. As for the girl at the other table… to him, she just looked like an ordinary beauty.

He frowned, finding Fu Mang’s behavior increasingly strange. He was a smart man, and it didn’t take him long to realize something was off. “Miss Fu… do you know her?”

Across the room, Yin Shuang was finally feeling half-full. She had sized the man up the moment he walked in. He’s alright, she thought. Destined for wealth, though mostly through his ancestors’ merit rather than his own. If he ended up with Fu Mang, it would be an “acceptable” match.

Since his character seemed fine and his appearance was decent, Yin Shuang stopped paying attention. Once she finished her meal, she looked over again and caught Fu Mang’s eye. Realizing she was being watched, Yin Shuang offered a small, shy smile.

Fu Mang stared at the tiny dimple on Xiaoyu’s cheek for a second before turning back. She gave the man a polite, formal smile. “No, I don’t know her. I was just speaking generally.”

Because the man was perceptive, the rest of the meal was spent in polite, hollow pleasantries. When they finished, he settled the bill, exchanged a few more courtesies, and left.

He didn’t ask to see her again, nor did he ask for her number. Both of them knew that after this meal, they would never cross paths again.

Watching him leave, Fu Mang walked over to Yin Shuang’s table. The girl looked up immediately. “Is it over?”

“Yes.”

Yin Shuang didn’t ask how it went. She simply stood up. “Home, then?”

The word “home” caused a tiny ripple in Fu Mang’s heart. She savored the sound of it. Even though she knew Xiaoyu had just blurted it out without thinking, it made her feel a sudden, deep warmth.

“Yes,” Fu Mang said. “Let’s go home.”

******

Since Sister Chen had been let go, the massive mansion felt even quieter. Fu Mang had hired a new housekeeper—a meticulous, stoic man who worked with the discipline of a retired soldier.

The maids, who used to huddle together and gossip, didn’t dare speak anymore. They finished their chores and vanished into their rooms. Yin Shuang didn’t mind the change, and Fu Mang actually preferred it. This was her home; she didn’t want outsiders loitering.

Sitting in the empty living room, Fu Mang patted the spot next to her. “Sit.”

Yin Shuang obeyed, sitting with her hands primly on her knees like a student waiting for a lecture from the principal.

Fu Mang looked at her with amusement. “So, what did you think of that man?”

Yin Shuang blinked. “He was alright.”

In Yin Shuang’s vocabulary, “alright” was actually a high compliment. Having spent a month with her, Fu Mang knew this quirk. Despite being broke, “Jin Xiaoyu” had tastes and standards that were higher than Fu Mang’s own, as if she were a princess from some ancient, noble house.

Hearing the word “alright,” the warmth in Fu Mang’s eyes dropped a degree. She watched Yin Shuang with a blank expression. “Just ‘alright’? You have no other thoughts than that?”

Yin Shuang thought for a moment. “Not really. As a boyfriend, he seemed fine. You could give it a try.”

That did it. The temperature in Fu Mang’s eyes plummeted. She focused entirely on the phrase “you could give it a try,” failing to notice that Yin Shuang had referred to a man clearly older than herself as “that young man.” Fu Mang’s jaw tightened. She looked deeply displeased.

Yin Shuang met her gaze innocently, once again failing to understand what she had done wrong. Fu Mang stared into those clear eyes, even more confused by what was going on in the girl’s head.

Doesn’t she like me?

Isn’t she supposed to be pursuing me?

Why does she have zero reaction to me going to bars or meeting other men?

Fu Mang was angry, but a part of her realized she had no right to be.

She shot a cold look at Jin Xiaoyu, narrowed her eyes, and suddenly stood up, heading for the basement.

Yin Shuang followed, confused. She watched as Fu Mang pulled two bottles of red wine from the cellar. Yin Shuang couldn’t read the foreign labels, but judging by the bottles, they were vintage and expensive.

Fu Mang stood on the stairs, looking up at Yin Shuang. “I want a drink. Join me?”

Yin Shuang looked at her, then gave a small nod.

Yin Shuang turned to lead the way back up, and Fu Mang followed behind her. With the girl’s back turned, Fu Mang allowed a triumphant, determined smile to cross her face. As the saying goes, alcohol provides courage to the timid and truth to the tongue. No matter how well Jin Xiaoyu was hiding her feelings, once she was drunk, the truth would come out.

Fu Mang was confident. She was no “good girl”; she had started drinking in middle school and to this day, there were fewer than three people who could out-drink her. She had intentionally picked her strongest wine. Given Jin Xiaoyu’s tiny frame and likely lack of experience, she figured it would take less than three glasses before the girl started spilling her secrets.

That, however, was a delusion born of overconfidence.

The cruel reality was that alcohol meant nothing to Yin Shuang. Her body was that of a sword spirit; her veins were filled with abundant spiritual energy. Even if her powers were sealed, her body could easily neutralize the toxins of alcohol. No matter how much Fu Mang poured, Yin Shuang would never get drunk.

Glass after glass, one bottle was emptied, and the second was nearly gone. Yin Shuang downed another glass and looked at Fu Mang dutifully. “President Fu, it’s nine-thirty. Shouldn’t we head up? We have work tomorrow.”

Fu Mang didn’t seem to hear her. She was busy pouring herself another glass. Yin Shuang asked again, and this time, Fu Mang heard. She tossed the empty bottle aside, leaned forward, and gripped Yin Shuang’s chin with a firm, dangerous intensity.

“Don’t,” she whispered, her voice low and menacing, “call me ‘President Fu’.”

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