Take a look.
1542 Words
Mu Tianyang glanced around the restaurant but saw no trace of the Ding family. Xue Lina had deliberately chosen a secluded corner - afraid her husband might notice Wanqing's presence - where neither the road outside nor the diners inside could spot them.
"Fine... Considering your injury!" Mu Tianyang relented.
After medical examination revealed her bones were nearly fractured from the stomping, a cold, sinister smile flickered at the corner of Mu Tianyang's lips - Ding Caiyan, how dare you trample what even I haven't touched!
As they exited the ER, Wanqing gazed longingly at the inpatient building. Her mother lay hospitalized upstairs. How she yearned for just one glimpse...
"Five minutes." Mu Tianyang granted mercilessly, reading her thoughts.
Wanqing startled, shaking her head. "No need." If her mother awoke to see her like this...
His brows furrowed. "Then never let me see that pathetic look again!" He strode away abruptly.
The girl hurried after him, cradling her bandaged hand.
Returning to the villa, Wanqing blinked at unexpected lights. Had his family come?
A middle-aged woman in simple attire approached. "Good evening, sir. I'm Zhang Meifeng—"
"Kitchen. Two dinners." Mu Tianyang cut her off.
Slumping onto the sofa, he addressed Wanqing: "New housekeeper. From tomorrow, A-Cheng and A-Hua will alternate as your escorts." His gaze turned speculative. "Not that you have anywhere to go. Stay put."
"But my mother—"
"Draw my bath." He interrupted.
She froze momentarily.
"Deaf?" He arched an eyebrow.
"...Right away." She climbed to the nightmare-filled bedroom, entering the bathroom one-handed.
As water gushed into the tub, footsteps sounded behind her. Mu Tianyang entered loosening his collar.
"I'll... leave now—"
His arm snaked around her waist. "We'll bathe together. That injured hand needs—"
"No! I'll help cook—"
"You're the mistress here!" He pinned her against the wall, knee pressing between her thighs. "My woman requires no chores. Can't I afford to keep you?"
Mistress.
The word pierced like shrapnel - she'd become property now.
"I don't mind trouble," he said, reaching up to undo her buttons.
Early the next morning, Mu Tianyang took Wanqing to the mall, followed by two subordinates - A-Cheng and A-Hua.
"This one, this one...and that!" Mu Tianyang randomly pointed at a pile of clothes and commanded Wanqing, "Go try them!"
Wanqing froze momentarily before following the sales associate into the fitting room. When she emerged wearing the first outfit, she found him reading a newspaper. Approaching cautiously, she asked in a trembling voice, "Does this work?"
Without looking up, Mu Tianyang snapped, "Change!"
She returned to the fitting room and emerged in a second outfit.
"Next!"
Third outfit.
"Change!"
Fourth outfit.
"Again!"
He hadn't glanced at her once. Wanqing's anxiety grew, uncertain of his intentions. The sales staff exchanged nervous glances, equally clueless about what might satisfy his standards...
Eventually, he stopped bothering to speak. Wanqing stopped asking. She simply kept changing, changing, changing until exhaustion set in...
"Mr. Mu..." A salesgirl approached hesitantly, "She's...finished trying everything?"
Mu Tianyang finally looked up from his newspaper. "Every single piece?"
"Yes!"
"Pack all items in her size." He tossed the newspaper aside. "If I find even one piece that doesn't fit properly, you can watch your job disappear."
"Yes!" The staff chorused, scrambling to package the clothes.
Rising, Mu Tianyang beckoned Wanqing over. He brushed a strand of hair from her face:
"Tired?"
She opened her mouth to agree, then quickly shook her head.
"Good." His smile confirmed her correct answer as he guided her toward the exit, calling over his shoulder, "Deliver the clothes and bill to the estate!"
Next came the shoe boutiques, where she endured trying on dozens of pairs.
Wanqing despised this lavish humiliation but dared not refuse. Defiance brought unpredictable consequences. If spending money pleased him...perhaps her suffering would lessen...
Leaving the shoe store, Mu Tianyang pulled her close and murmured, "Now for jewelry. Cosmetics and..." He paused meaningfully, "...other necessities you'll return to purchase this afternoon."
She looked up, confused by his hesitation after mentioning cosmetics.
"Choose pretty ones." His gaze turned suggestive, fingers brushing the strap of her b*a beneath the dress. "When undressed, I expect surprises. Buy plenty. Less than twenty sets..." His thumb pressed warningly against her collarbone. "...you'll regret it."
Her face flushed crimson as she stammered, "Understood."
Satisfied, he pecked her cheek and steered her toward glittering displays.
Never had she seen such jewels. Her mother once owned decent pieces from the Ding family divorce, long sold for medical bills. Ding Caiyan bought gems on whims and holidays. Had Wanqing remained, she too might've been that jewel-draped heiress...
"What are you thinking?" Mu Tianyang's breath warmed her ear.
"I..."
Before Wanqing could respond, he left, closing the door gently behind him.
Auntie Zhang immediately rose and scurried to the walk-in closet, exclaiming, "How enormous! The rich truly live differently – even their clothing storage spaces could fit whole families."
Wanqing approached and silently agreed – the lavish closet surpassed her family's living room in size. Custom cabinets lined every wall, framing a central seating area that exuded sophisticated elegance without appearing cramped.
She tentatively opened one wardrobe panel, only to recoil at rows of identical suits.
These were Mu Tianyang's!
Slamming that door shut, she moved to the opposite section where newly assembled cabinets formed a feminine enclave beside a vanity table.
This must be hers... Her fingers trembled as she revealed empty shelves.
Auntie Zhang bustled in with shopping bags, methodically hanging garments while discreetly snipping price tags. Though the numbers made her head spin, decades of domestic service kept her professionally mute.
After organizing clothes and shoes, the housekeeper departed to cook. Wanqing arranged her meager cosmetics and jewelry on the vanity, the opulent surroundings heightening her unease. Was this her future – a golden canary kept in a gilded cage?
Knock. Knock. Knock.
A stranger stood at the door clutching garment bags. "Good afternoon. Mr. Mu requested we deliver these personally."
Wanqing hesitated before recalling the building's fortress-like security. She wordlessly admitted the woman.
Her composure shattered upon seeing the contents – bras. Dozens of them.
Had Mu Tianyang anticipated her defiance, orchestrating this humiliating delivery?
"We'll need the dressing room," the consultant announced. "Proper fitting is crucial – ill-fitting undergarments distort posture and..." Her clinical tone deepened Wanqing's blush.
"I'll change in the bathroom!"
The consultant nodded, detailing adjustment techniques before adding, "Return for evaluation. If the fit isn't right, we can try another style."
Through gritted teeth, Wanqing acknowledged the woman's professionalism...
After exhaustive trials, selected lingerie filled her closet in chromatic precision. The consultant then revealed pajamas and robes from another case.
"Mr. Mu insisted you approve these personally."
That name wielded invisible authority. Wanqing mechanically assessed fabrics – gravitating toward cotton and modest designs – while the consultant documented every choice.
Here's the precise translation with careful formatting and localization for Western readers:
Wanqing paused, anger flashing: "You said only the ones I liked would stay."
The woman maintained her smile: "Keeping them doesn't mean wearing them. But Mr. Mu would be pleased to see them. He'll be displeased if he finds these missing from your closet."
Wanqing recalled Mu Tianyang's recent behavior and reluctantly conceded.
As the woman hung the clothes, Wanqing stood motionless. After she left, Wanqing grabbed her bathrobe mechanically. Emerging from the shower, she selected new lingerie. She dabbed on some powder, spritzed perfume, touched up her lip gloss, and stepped into pristine heels before descending to the living room with a magazine.
When Mu Tianyang returned, he found her sitting sideways on the sofa barefoot, discarded sandals near the rug. The magazine rested in her lap, dark hair cascading over her chest - a portrait of serene composure.
He smirked, settling beside her and pulling her onto his lap.
"You..." She stiffened, squirming to escape.
"Stay." His command brooked no argument. Peering down her collar, he chuckled. "White lace?"
Her cheeks burned crimson.
He kissed her temple, inhaling deeply. "Mmm... gardenias?"
Meeting his gaze hesitantly, she whispered, "Do you... like it?"
His eyebrows shot up. Was his little sparrow actually trying to please him? "I do. You're being so sensible - how could I not?"
She exhaled shakily. "I... I need to ask-"
He cut her off with a glare. "Trying to bargain already? This pretty display isn't nearly enough currency. You'll need to be far more... persuasive."
"It's not-" Her voice cracked. "I need to return to school!"
"School?" His grip tightened.
"My classes! I should be taking college entrance exams this year, but Mother's illness-"
He scoffed. "I can provide for you just fine. No need to slave for some corporate job buying designer rags."
"Mother would be devastated!"
"You already dropped out," he reminded coldly.
"She doesn't know! I told her it's a medical leave. After her surgery... if she discovers I'm not attending... discovers us..." Sobs wracked her frame.
His jaw clenched. "Tell her you're boarding here. Monthly visits. Problem solved."
"She checks with teachers..."
His eyes narrowed dangerously. "So you insist?"
"I'm eighteen!" She met his glare tearfully. "This is my right!"
"Brave little scholar." His hands slid to her hips, flipping her astride him.
"What are you-"
- Writer
