Chapter 8: Vengeance Served

In the villa's courtyard, a faint, melodious sound drifted through the air, as sweet and enchanting as the song of an oriole, clear and lingering like a mountain spring’s gentle drip, pure and penetrating.

In all his life, Wang Xingpeng had never heard anything like it.

He stopped clapping, instead clenching his fists tightly, tears streaming down his face like a broken dam, relentless and overwhelming.

In the past, his encounters barely lasted two minutes; he had assumed all men were the same. But Ye Nan’s performance had brutally shattered that illusion.

Compared to him, Ye Nan was incomparably superior. No wonder Gong Wanru was willing to submit to him, no wonder the always graceful and dignified Yan Ruoliu couldn’t help but let out soft, barely audible moans, her cheeks flushed, her eyes shimmering with a bewitching charm that transformed her into an irresistible enchantress.

Countless tendrils entwined Yan Ruoliu, obscuring her from Wang Xingpeng’s view; he could only hear her voice. He knew she still wore her clothes, yet many tendrils had slipped beneath the hems and sleeves of her qipao.

Gong Wanru stood nearby, arms crossed, watching with a faint smile, clearly intrigued.

She had experienced such things herself and thus understood Yan Ruoliu’s feelings all too well at this moment.

After a full hour, Wang Xingpeng saw the lightning tendrils gently sway, their electric glow intensifying, as if their excitement had grown.

He clenched his fists even tighter, despite the pain it caused—his hands had already been electrocuted and rendered nearly immobile—but he simply couldn’t bear it. Any man would have broken under such torment.

Tears poured down his face, his heart shattered beyond measure. He collapsed to the ground, utterly limp, silent as if dead for ages, lost and broken.

Gong Wanru glanced at him coldly, sneering.

“So, Wang Xingpeng, this is your day of reckoning. You bribed my confidants to embezzle my company’s assets. Now you’re reaping what you sowed—deservedly so, absolutely deservedly.”

“Hahaha!”

“Weren’t you so arrogant back then? So full of yourself?”

“Come on, show me some more arrogance! Don’t just lie there, get up and be arrogant for me!”

“You pathetic fool, how do you feel about this humiliation? Surprised? Thrilled? Excited?”

“You were the big shot boss of the company, but now you’re like a dead dog, at the mercy of my man’s humiliation, wearing the cuckold’s crown.”

“Hahaha.”

In that moment, Gong Wanru felt an unparalleled satisfaction, a sweet taste of long-awaited revenge.

Meanwhile, Yan Ruoliu’s cheeks flushed deeply, her heart gripped by an intense nervousness. She desperately wanted to escape, to stop everything, yet her body betrayed her, moving only to comply further.

This strange sensation was her first experience of such depths—it shattered her soul, filled her with unbearable shame.

At last, it was over.

The courtyard fell silent once more, as if nothing had happened.

---

Ye Nan withdrew the lightning tendrils, taking a deep breath. Indeed, Yan Ruoliu was truly remarkable, granting him an unprecedented pleasure.

Now, Yan Ruoliu was weak and frail, her breath hot and ragged, her snow-white skin flushed with leftover redness. Her qipao remained intact but slightly disheveled.

The moment the tendrils withdrew, she faltered, barely able to stand, about to collapse. Ye Nan hastily caught her, preventing her fall.

“From now on, you’re mine. I’ll treat you well,” Ye Nan said gently. “Let me carry you inside to rest.”

Yan Ruoliu refused. “No, I still have matters to attend to.”

Curious, Ye Nan asked, “What matters?”

“You’ll see soon enough,” she replied.

After resting for half an hour, Yan Ruoliu barely regained her strength. She stood and approached Wang Xingpeng, kicking him hard.

“Stop playing dead!” she snapped. “It’s time we settle our accounts.”

Wang Xingpeng snarled, “You two lovebirds won’t die well!”

Yan Ruoliu laughed boldly. “Yeah, that hour just now was more pleasurable than eighteen years with you combined. I’m a slut—so what? You can only watch helplessly, you pathetic worm!”

Wang Xingpeng glared at her in disbelief. How could the elegant and dignified Yan Ruoliu become so shameless and speak such disgraceful words?

It was simply unimaginable.

Yan Ruoliu continued, “You drugged me, defiled me. I should have reported you and sent you to jail, but you threatened me with recorded videos. My mother was diagnosed with cancer and needed surgery funds. That’s why I had to submit. Do you know how I survived all these years? Every moment was torment. Now, Wang Xingpeng, I’ve finally caught my chance. I want you to suffer worse than death!”

Feeling the icy chill radiating from Yan Ruoliu, Wang Xingpeng shivered, his voice trembling. “What do you want?”

“What do you think?” she retorted.

“Think of our marriage—have mercy on me. When we go back, I’ll treat you well,” he pleaded.

Yan Ruoliu burst into laughter, tears nearly spilling, her body quivering with amusement. Her chest heaved enticingly—a true weapon of temptation.

“Do you think I’m that easy to fool?” she mocked. “You beat me so badly, when did you ever treat me like a wife? And now that you’re in my hands, you want mercy? You… deserve nothing!”

Wang Xingpeng was speechless under her fierce reproach.

Yan Ruoliu grabbed a fruit knife nearby, raised it high, and said fiercely, “Now, we settle our scores.”

“No, no! I really know I’m wrong! Spare me this once!” Wang Xingpeng panicked, scratching the floor weakly with his injured hand, trying to crawl away.

But it was useless. His injuries were too severe; his hands bled, and he could barely move forward an inch.

Yan Ruoliu stepped forward, sneering, “Afraid now?”

“Please, no, don’t!” he begged.

---

Suddenly, Yan Ruoliu lowered the fruit knife, pondering. “Just killing you seems too easy for you.”

Then she looked at Gong Wanru. “Do you have a white hat and some markers?”

Gong Wanru didn’t know why but nodded, “Yes, wait a moment, I’ll get them.”

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