I Redeemed Him, But Who Will Redeem Me? - Chapter 7

The footage continued to play, and after a moment…

The bathroom door opened, and out came Fu Yanxiu.

He had taken off his suit jacket, wearing only a neatly tailored white shirt. His face was freshly washed, and his slightly damp bangs had been brushed back, revealing a clean forehead. His features looked even sharper and more striking.

Fu Yanxiu walked out, casually sat down on the edge of the bed, and was about to open his phone when, without warning, the quilt began to move, as if someone inside was tossing and turning.

On screen, Fu Yanxiu instantly stood up, frowning as he stared at the lump under the covers. His expression was strange. After pausing for two seconds, he suddenly yanked the quilt away—

And a life-size electric doll was lying on the bed.

Fu Yanxiu’s face darkened, and at once, the door opened again. Several young men came in laughing.

“Surprised? Hahaha.”

“Tsk tsk, really don’t know how to cherish a beauty. Gao Ying said you’re already twenty, time to open the door to a new world. He wanted to send you a real girl. But Fei Xiaotian said we should take it step by step, test the waters with a fake one first. Looking at your reaction, Old Fei really does understand you better. If it had been a real beauty, you might’ve scared her to death just now.”

“Exactly. Hey, good intentions wasted on a dog’s liver and lungs.”

“What a pity. Ah Yan’s expression just now must have been priceless.”

“What’s there to pity,” one of the young men tilted his chin toward the hidden camera with a wicked grin, “Luckily we came prepared. Do you think I’d miss out on such a brilliant reaction?”

“Don’t you guys have anything better to do?” Fu Yanxiu frowned, gesturing toward the thing on the bed with visible disgust. “Take that thing with you and get out.”

“Alright, alright, we’re boring, we admit it. Come on, Fu Shao, let us buy you a drink to apologize.”

“Yeah, yeah, let’s go. If you want to settle accounts, do it later. Everyone else is waiting.”

Fu Yanxiu was half-pulled, half-dragged away amid their laughter.

After they left, the room grew quiet again. Some time later, the original owner crawled out of the closet.

Her face carried irritation mixed with lingering fear. She paused by the bed for a few seconds, then quickly left—taking the drugged glass of wine with her.

On screen, the progress bar was already nearing its end. Lin Xicai’s face was deathly pale. Even if she were dull, she now clearly understood what had happened.

Though she had mentally prepared herself, guessing that the original owner’s intentions toward the young master might not have been pure, she had never imagined the original owner would actually go so far.

Drugging him?

She actually wanted to drug Fu Yanxiu?

And worst of all, her every move had been recorded—the camera in the room had obviously been installed by those young men earlier, just to catch Fu Yanxiu’s reaction to their prank.

The original owner had no idea the camera existed, no idea she had been filmed.

So while she remembered to take away the drugged wine, she didn’t think to destroy the camera.

And thus, this black pot heavy enough to ruin her life ended up on Lin Xicai’s back.

“Was it entertaining?” Fu Yanxiu’s voice rang out.

Lin Xicai’s thoughts froze for a second—then a hand gripped her chin, the pressure bone-deep.

That hand forced her face toward him. His cold gaze bore down on her, though his tone was deceptively mild: “Tell me—if I had actually drunk that wine, what would’ve happened?”

“It would…” Lin Xicai paused, “It would’ve made you… run to the bathroom a few more times.”

The hand on her chin stilled. Fu Yanxiu frowned.

The next moment, she said, “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have put laxatives in your wine. I only wanted to embarrass you—it was a prank. I was wrong. I shouldn’t have done something so childish.”

Laxatives?

A prank?

The vein at Fu Yanxiu’s temple pulsed. He had underestimated her.

In just a few sentences, she was already trying to change the nature of the crime.

“Really?” Fu Yanxiu sneered. “Then explain—why do such a thing?”

“Because I have an unrequited crush,” Lin Xicai answered, forcing calm into her voice. “No matter what I did, you never noticed me. I lost my mind for a moment, grew resentful, and wanted to take a little revenge…”

“Revenge?” His hand slipped downward, palm closing around her fragile neck, tightening. “Do you think I can’t find out the truth?”

Lin Xicai choked violently, tears welling in her eyes, her delicate face flushed from lack of air.

But she didn’t struggle. As if certain he wouldn’t truly hurt her, her hand lifted slightly before falling back down. She only stared straight at him.

No pleading. No flattery. Almost no fear.

Aside from her initial panic, she was calm. Detached, even.

For the first time, those eyes held none of the burning obsession he loathed. They were cold, like a dead pond, silently watching the storm pass.

She was observing his anger.

Her entire being radiated a strange sense of distance—

As if she had nothing to do with the person who’d committed this act.

As if she shouldn’t be the one paying for this mistake.

Fu Yanxiu interpreted this detachment as brazen shamelessness.

He was always good at controlling his emotions, but now, his heart pounded, his fury stoked even hotter by her indifference.

“Aunt Ping is such a woman—how did she raise a daughter like you…”

His upbringing stopped him from spitting out the last two words. But the contempt in his eyes was like hooks, as though piercing straight into her soul.

Struggling to breathe, Lin Xicai met his gaze and forced steadiness into her voice: “So… are you planning to strangle me right here?”

The next second, he shoved her away, hard. Standing over her, he looked down like a judge passing sentence.

“This is the last time I’ll let you off. You should know why. And this is the last time your mother’s face will hold any weight with me.”

He glanced at her, eyes filled with disdain. “Next time, I won’t hesitate to release the footage—let everyone judge for themselves what kind of drug you used.”

With that, he turned and strode away.

The screen went dark. The theater was plunged into silence. Lin Xicai sat there, finally exhaling in relief.

Touching her sore neck, she thought—well, the original owner’s landmines had all exploded now. She had survived unscathed. That counted as passing the test, didn’t it?

As for his contempt and hatred? Heh. What did that matter?

But as she sat there in a daze, Lin Xicai suddenly turned her head.

For just a moment, she’d had the strange sensation that someone else was there—that another presence lurked in the darkness, eyes roaming across her face and body, blunt and cold.

She looked around, but there was nothing. Only the oppressive blackness.

The feeling vanished, fleeting as if it had never existed. Rubbing her temples, she quickly left the unsettling place.

…

The next morning, Lin Xicai woke early. After washing up and eating a little, she headed out.

Passing through the garden, she saw two uncles pruning roses. As she walked by, one of them smiled and handed her a freshly cut flower. “This one’s the freshest, just snipped.”

Her mood lifted a little. She tucked the flower into the small side pocket of her backpack and left.

After getting off the bus, she hurried along and, at a corner, accidentally bumped hard into someone. The man gave a muffled grunt. She staggered back a step, her water bottle clattering to the ground.

Startled, Lin Xicai quickly apologized, “I’m so sorry—”

The person she hit steadied her lightly. When she looked up, she met a refined, handsome face.

The boy was tall, his skin fair. He didn’t seem angry about being bumped. Instead, a faint smile curved his lips. After making sure she wouldn’t fall, he crouched down to pick up her bottle and held it out.

Lin Xicai reached for it, but just as her fingers brushed it, he drew it back. Pulling out a tissue, he carefully wiped the bottle, then looked up at her again, eyes smiling, “It’s dirty.”

Lin Xicai blinked, took the bottle, and nodded politely. “Thank you.”

Standing half a step behind him was a girl in uniform. Her uniform matched Lin Xicai’s own, while the boy’s was unfamiliar—probably from a neighboring high school.

The girl said nothing the whole time. Only after the boy returned the bottle did she tug at his sleeve softly, urging him to go.

Seeing this, the boy put his arm around her shoulders, tilted his head with a smile, and walked away with her.

For a second, Lin Xicai’s and the girl’s gazes met. The girl’s beautiful eyes were hazy, unreadable.

Lin Xicai quickly looked away, dismissing the encounter.

See, there were normal people in this world after all. She thought.

Entering her classroom, she had barely sat down when the class monitor carrying a pile of assignments called out—

“Zhong Fei, the Chinese teacher is waiting for you in the office.”

There was no avoiding it. Lin Xicai pulled a written self-criticism from her bag and walked out with a resolute air.

She had stayed up all night writing it. Calling a parent was impossible—she had none, and only her life to lose.

Since her arrival, the original owner’s mother had already suffered enough shocks. She couldn’t add to that.

Maybe, just maybe, her heartfelt self-criticism and pitiful act would get her through this.

In the office, the Chinese teacher frowned at her solitary figure. “Why are you here alone? Where’s your parent?”

“I grew up in a special family. When I was very young—”

Just as Lin Xicai began her tragic tale, there was a knock on the door. Both of them turned to look—

And there stood a tall, straight figure in the doorway. The very same man who had nearly strangled her the night before.

The teacher looked at him. “And you are?”

Fu Yanxiu’s eyes slid toward Lin Xicai. She froze, troubled, before finally forcing out two stiff words: “…Brother.”

His gaze moved away, his lips curling in faint, unmistakable mockery.

“Sit,” the teacher said, tone softening slightly. “I understand Zhong Fei’s circumstances. The reason I asked you here today isn’t about her grades, but her attitude toward learning…”

The teacher explained her situation and recent behavior. Fu Yanxiu listened politely, appearing serious. But Lin Xicai knew this civility was nothing but his upbringing, forcing him into a mask of manners.

To him, she was nothing more than a sordid would-be assailant. Anything about her must disgust him.

Sure enough, when the meeting ended and they left the office, the familiar wave of contempt and pressure rolled off him again.

Lin Xicai pursed her lips, uneasy. “Why did you come here?”

“Why do you think?” Fu Yanxiu’s voice was cold. “I hate it most when people use my father against me. Are you determined to trample on all my bottom lines? I thought you’d at least behave for a few days.”

“I didn’t do anything,” she tried to explain. “I didn’t even tell my mom about this…”

“Amnesia, class change, failing exams, calling parents…” Fu Yanxiu leaned closer, his tone sharp. “Your tricks just keep piling up, don’t they?”

His hostility left her feeling that explanations were useless. Lin Xicai closed her mouth, no longer interested in justifying herself.

Fu Yanxiu silently studied her expression. Meeting her clear eyes, tinged with irritation, his mind flashed unexpectedly to Fu Xuefan’s words: She’s acting strange—like she’s a different person.

It was still the same person, the same face. Yet her gaze, her aura—
For the first time, they felt unfamiliar.

Yesterday in the dark theater, he hadn’t seen it clearly. But under the sunlight now, the difference magnified, fermented…