His Punishment to Keep

"It wasn't me. Believe me." Jian Tong stared defiantly at the figure inside the car. Torrential rain pounded down, blurring the windows. Through the streaked glass, she could vaguely make out the cold, stern face behind the wheel. Jian Tong's trembling body stood outside the car. Through the window, she shouted, "Shen Xiujin! At least listen to me!" The door suddenly swung open. Before Jian Tong could react, a powerful force yanked her violently into the car. She crashed into him, soaking his crisp white shirt in an instant. "Shen Xiujin, those thugs who hurt Weiming... I didn't send them..." Jian Tong began, but a long, strong finger seized her chin without mercy. His uniquely magnetic, deep voice came from above her head: "Do you like me that much?" The cool tone carried a faint hint of tobacco—his scent. "What?" Jian Tong was momentarily stunned. The whole world knew she liked him—why was he suddenly asking this? The man held her chin with one hand while his other arm, long and strong, reached out toward her. His fingertips gently touched her rain-soaked, chilled cheek. Jian Tong was drowned in those eyes, gentle as water, lost in them. She seemed to already hear his next words, this man asking her, "Are you cold?" Suddenly, the man radiated an icy aura as he spoke coldly, "Jiantong, do you like me that much? Enough to risk killing Weiming?" A chill surged from her core, spreading through her limbs in an instant. Jiantong snapped back to reality, unable to suppress a bitter smile... She knew it. This man's tenderness was never meant for her. It had never been tenderness at all—just Satan's smile. "I didn't mean to kill Weiming..." She tried to explain. "Right, you didn't mean to kill her. You just paid some thugs to r**e her." Rage flared in the man's eyes. Without giving Jiantong a chance to speak, his large hand ripped her clothes apart with a sharp tear. "Ah~!" A piercing scream echoed as Jiantong was ruthlessly shoved out of the car. She landed awkwardly in the rain, the man's cold voice cutting through the downpour: "Jiantong, Miss Jian, I treat you as you treated Weiming. How does it feel to be exposed like this?" Swish! Jiantong snapped her head up, staring in disbelief at the car door. The man sat inside, looking down at her with disdain. He pulled out a handkerchief and leisurely wiped his fingers. "Miss Jian, I'm tired now. You may leave." "Shen Xiujin! Listen to me! I truly..." "Listening to Miss Jian speak isn't entirely out of the question." The man lifted his eyelids indifferently, glancing at Jiantong. "If Miss Jian is willing to kneel before my Shen family estate for an entire night, perhaps when I'm in a better mood, I might grant Miss Jian ten minutes of my time." The carriage door slammed shut. A handkerchief was tossed out, fluttering down before Jian Tong, dampened by the rain. Jian Tong bent down, picked up the rain-soaked handkerchief, and clenched it tightly in her palm. The carriage drove into the Shen family estate. The wrought-iron gates swung shut before her, without mercy. In the rain, Jian Tong's face was pale. She stood motionless for a long moment before suddenly lifting her head. She walked to the outer gate of the estate, pressed her lips tightly together, and with a sharp thud, slammed her knees onto the ground. She knelt! Not for atonement! Simply because Xia Weiming was her friend, Jian Tong's friend! When a friend passes, she should kneel in tribute. Not because everyone believed she had killed Xia Weiming! She knelt! She knelt to beg this man for ten minutes—just ten minutes to hear her out! Her clothes were torn and tattered, barely covering her essentials. She covered herself with her hands, yet her back remained straight. She was proud. Even on her knees, her spirit remained unbroken! Her pride, her dignity—she was Jian Tong of Shanghai! She knelt stubbornly, seeking only a chance to explain. She hadn't done it—she wouldn't admit to something she hadn't done! But would she truly get that chance? Could she really explain everything clearly? And would anyone truly believe her words? The rain fell harder and harder, never ceasing from the very beginning. ... One night passed. Amid the torrential downpour, Jian Tong remained kneeling outside the Shen family estate. Rain soaked her clothes; she had knelt through the entire night. Dawn finally broke, and the estate, silent all night, stirred with life. The silver-haired, spry old butler, holding an antique black umbrella, walked out from the courtyard. The iron gates, dusty from the night, creaked open to reveal a gap. Jian Tong stirred, lifting her drooping head to offer the elderly butler standing in the doorway a pale smile. "Miss Jian, Mr. Shen instructs you to leave this place." The old butler's hair was combed with meticulous precision, not a strand out of place even in the rain, as disciplined as every blade of grass and tree in the Shen estate, each tended by its own caretaker. The old butler tossed a garment to Jian Tong. Jian Tong extended her hands, soaked through from a night in the rain, and shivered as she pulled the garment on. Parting her pale, bloodless lips, her voice raspy yet resolute, she declared, "I want to see him." Without lifting an eyelid, the old steward relayed the estate owner's words verbatim: "Mr. Shen says Miss Jian's presence pollutes the estate's environment. He asks that you remove yourself from his sight." From the moment the incident occurred, Jian Tong had shown no trace of weakness. Yet now, the strength she had been feigning could no longer be sustained. Her shoulders trembled, betraying the pain within her heart. Jian Tong closed her eyes, her face drenched in rainwater, making it impossible to distinguish whether the wetness at the corners of her eyes was rain or tears. The old butler watched her expressionless. Jian Tong opened her eyes once more, tilting her head back to address the old butler: "Steward Xia, regardless of your thoughts, I did not bribe those thugs to ruin Xia Weiming's reputation. No matter what, I cannot bear your hatred without complaint." Though exhausted, Jian Tong spoke each word clearly and distinctly... This was a woman who, though willing to bow her head for now, possessed an indomitable spirit. The old steward finally showed a reaction beyond mere indifference. His gray brows knitted together, and his gaze toward Jian Tong brimmed with disgust. "Weiming is my daughter. She was always well-behaved and sensible from childhood. She never set foot in chaotic, filthy places like bars or nightclubs. Yet she was humiliated to death by a gang of thugs in such a den of riffraff. Miss Jian, we've reviewed her communications. Before the incident, she called you and sent a text message. The message read: 'I'm at Nightfall now. Where are you, Xiao Tong?'" The old butler's gaze fixed on Jian Tong, filled with venomous hatred. "Miss Jian, you didn't kill a cat or a dog—you killed a living, breathing human being! She's dead, and you still try to wriggle out of it! Everyone knows Miss Jian was obsessed with Mr. Shen, while Mr. Shen only had eyes for my daughter, Weiming. He despised your clinginess. Clearly, you were jealous of Weiming and, unable to have Mr. Shen, you sought to destroy Weiming's reputation. Miss Jian, your viciousness is beyond contempt!" Jian Tong was speechless. Xia Weiming was the daughter of the Xia butler, Shen Xiujin's true love, while she, Jian Tong, was merely the female supporting character pining for Shen Xiujin. Now, with Xia Weiming dead, she wasn't just a supporting character—she was the villainous supporting character. "Miss Jian, please leave," the old butler said. "Oh, and Mr. Shen asked me to relay a message to you." Jian Tong's gaze snapped toward the old butler. "Mr. Shen said, 'Why wasn't it you who died?'" Jian Tong's kneeling body swayed unsteadily, unable to support itself, a sharp pain piercing her heart. The old butler turned away, his shriveled, wrinkled mouth curling into a stiff, cold smile that made his stern face look cold and cruel. Weiming had been killed by Jiantong. He was displeased. He hated Jiantong's viciousness. Jiantong forced her bone-chilled body to rise, staggering to her feet. The moment she stood, numb legs gave way, sending her crashing back onto the cold, hard asphalt. A bitter smile touched her lips... Why wasn't it you who died? It was indeed the kind of words that man would utter. Jiantong forced a smile uglier than tears: "Weiming, oh Weiming. With your death, I've become the target of everyone's blame." On the second floor of the Shen family estate, a tall, slender figure stood barefoot before the floor-to-ceiling windows. Broad shoulders, narrow hips, clad only in a casually draped black robe. His imposing, sensual form watched coldly beyond the estate, fixed on a solitary silhouette in the rain. "Mr. Shen, your instructions have been conveyed to Miss Jian word for word." The old butler dismissed Jian Tong and stood quietly at the master bedroom door. Shen Xiujin swirled the red wine in his glass. Only upon hearing the butler’s words did he withdraw his gaze from Jian Tong, his thin lips forming a cold chain of orders: "Inform the Jian family: if they want Jian Tong, they lose the Jian family. If they want the Jian family, Jian Tong ceases to exist within it." "Yes." "Second, inform S University that Jian Tong has no academic record there. Notify First High School that she was expelled for promiscuity and fighting during enrollment. Her highest education level is junior high." "Yes." "Lastly," Shen Xiujin said coldly, "send her to prison." The old butler looked up abruptly, stunned. "Mr. Shen?" "Murder demands retribution. She bribed others to commit premeditated homicide. Send her to prison for three years. What? Does Butler Xia disagree?" The three-year term was Shen Xiujin's personal decree for Jian Tong. While existing evidence fell short, Shen Xiujin's rage fueled his conviction. "No, Mr. Shen is absolutely right... Thank you, Mr. Shen," the old butler sobbed, tears streaming down his face. "If not for you, Jian Tong's crimes against Weiming would have gone unpunished. As a member of the Jian family, I had no authority over her. Thank you, sir. Thank you, sir. Waaah..." Shen Xiujin turned away, standing before the floor-to-ceiling window. He watched the figure on the asphalt road below vanish around the corner, his eyes darkening. Long, slender fingers gripped the wine glass tightly. He tilted his head back, swallowing the crimson liquid without spilling a drop, letting it burn his throat. "Butler Xia," Shen Xiujin said slowly, "I disciplined Jiantong not because Wei Ming is your daughter, but because she is the woman I have chosen." ... Jian Tong returned to the Jian residence, her body heavy with exhaustion. She never stepped through the Jian family gates again. The elderly butler, who had served the family his entire life, delivered Shen Xiujin’s exact words, and Jian Tong was politely "asked" to leave. From start to finish, she never even caught a glimpse of her birth parents. Was she that afraid of Shen Xiujin? Jian Tong tugged at the corner of her mouth... She withdrew her gaze. That wrought-iron gate had severed her ties with the Jian family, severed everything that had once belonged to her. Jian Tong couldn't articulate what she felt in that moment. As she turned, two men in police uniforms blocked her path: Miss Jian, given that you paid to incite others to destroy Miss Xia Weiming's reputation, leading to her accidental death, we now request you accompany us." Before being sent to prison, Jian Tong saw Shen Xiujin. That man stood tall and imposing by the window. Jian Tong shook her head firmly. "I never harmed Weiming." Shen Xiujin's tall frame moved slowly toward her. Jian Tong told herself not to be afraid—she was innocent, she hadn't committed a crime. Her delicate face lifted fearlessly, striving to maintain composure, but her trembling shoulders betrayed her nerves... All of this was captured by a pair of piercing eyes. A flicker of surprise crossed Shen Xiujin's eyes... Was she still trying to preserve her dignity at this point? Then again, this was Jian Tong. This woman had always been flamboyant and unrestrained, brimming with pride. Even having her confession rejected hadn't dented her spirit in the slightest. Shen Xiujin moved with lightning speed, seizing her delicate chin. "Ouch!" The hand gripping her jaw felt like iron pincers, the pressure crushing down as if intent on shattering her jawbone. Pain made tears spill from Jian Tong's eyes. Yet he showed no mercy, tightening his grip on her jaw with increasing force. "Who would have thought such a beautiful face could hide such a vicious heart?" "I truly never harmed Weiming!" Jian Tong bit her lip, her face pale with agony. "You can't just send me to prison like this—without evidence." "No, I can." Shen Xiujin sneered coldly, each word dripping with cruelty.