Spoiled - Chapter 3

Author’s Note: Starting today, I will update daily. The update time is every evening at 9:10 PM. If it’s past 9:10 PM, then there’s no update. However, if I’m not updating, I’ll ask for leave in advance.

Fang Baijing’s heart sank at once. His struggling movements slowed, and he stopped cursing. He shrank back into the corner, but still stubbornly argued: “What score do you have to settle with me? I haven’t even settled the score with you! What were you just doing, touching me all over!”

The more he spoke, the more Fang Baijing felt he was in the right. He puffed out his chest and abdomen: “What else can you do besides act like a rogue? Ji Weile was just outside the door; why did you cover my mouth and not let me talk to him? What if other people think we were doing something in here! You might be shameless, but I’m not!”

Fang Baijing spat out a long string of words like a machine gun. Fu Feng did not even furrow his brow.

Only after Fang Baijing finished did he lift his eyelids, expression completely calm, and ask: “Done?”

“…Mm.”

It felt like punching cotton. His ankle was still held by Fu Feng. Fang Baijing’s leg ached terribly from being lifted so long; his thigh muscles were about to cramp.

Fang Baijing raised his foot and kicked Fu Feng again: “Hurry and let go.”

This time he kicked very restrainedly. Barefoot, his sole only tapped Fu Feng’s thigh a few times like a cat.

It looked less like kicking and more like flirting.

Fu Feng’s finger slid down and lightly pressed the protruding vein on Fang Baijing’s ankle. It did not hurt.

Fang Baijing’s arch instinctively tensed.

He stared wide-eyed at Fu Feng. His clothes half off, half on; the marks on his body blue and purple. Falling into Fu Feng’s eyes, they gave a strange sense of satisfaction.

But when his gaze skimmed Fang Baijing’s right hand, his expression suddenly tightened.

Fu Feng released his hand, took the short-sleeved shirt hanging on the rack, and said softly: “Hand.”

Fang Baijing knew what he meant. He said unhappily: “I’ll put it on myself!”

Fu Feng patiently repeated: “Hand.”

After a brief standoff, Fang Baijing compromised. He raised his hand and let Fu Feng put the short-sleeved shirt on him like dressing a child.

Fang Baijing’s expression was full of resentment. He did not know what fetish Fu Feng had. As long as the two were alone, in Fu Feng’s eyes Fang Baijing seemed useless—even putting on clothes had to be forcibly done for him.

After putting on the short-sleeved shirt, Fu Feng picked up the long pants beside him. He naturally squatted and said: “Lift foot.”

Fang Baijing pursed lips, expressionlessly pulled down the hem a bit, then lifted leg into the pant leg.

He comforted himself inwardly: It’s fine. Fu Feng is serving me! Fu Feng is begging to dress me! No one else in this lifetime will get this treatment!

Even thinking this, Fang Baijing’s face grew sourer.

Fu Feng’s suit jacket was already off. Shirt sleeves rolled above elbows, exposing a section of strong, solid arm. On his wrist was an expensive watch, dial dark and low-key.

He lowered head and tied Fang Baijing’s shoelaces.

Fu Feng noticed Fang Baijing’s expression was off and asked habitually: “What are you angry about now?”

”

“Angry?” Fang Baijing sneered. “Joke! How could I be angry!”

Fang Baijing raised head. Though completely suppressed since Fu Feng entered the fitting room, he still defiantly lifted chin.

He brushed past Fu Feng’s shoulder toward the outside. Passing by, he heavily “humph”ed, emphasizing: “What is there for me to be angry about with you?”

Fu Feng turned the watch on his wrist, calmly “mm”ed, and let it pass.

What Fang Baijing hated most was Fu Feng acting like this—as if he were a little pet Fu Feng kept, occasionally teased, and simply coaxed when throwing tantrums.

He did not want that!

Fang Baijing suddenly turned back, pounced on Fu Feng, and fiercely bit his neck with bared fangs.

Fu Feng was bitten without warning but did not get angry. Fang Baijing also did not bite hard; it was uncertain if he even left a tooth mark.

He rubbed Fang Baijing’s head without changing expression and asked flatly: “Bitten enough?”

Fang Baijing grew angrier, but from extreme sun exposure he had no strength left. He slackly released his bite, collapsed onto Fu Feng, and sulkily said: “Not enough.”

Fu Feng naturally took his hand, picked up phone, called the driver to bring the car closer.

The weather was too hot; Fang Baijing did not want to hold hands at all.

He shook hard, but was instead gripped tighter by Fu Feng.

Fu Feng was on a work call. He slightly frowned slightly, covered the microphone, and said: “Stop messing around.”

Fang Baijing was speechless. He mouthed: “I don’t want to hold hands.”

“There’s no need to fight for that western suburbs land. Development time isn’t set yet. Even if developed, it won’t be central district, high probability won’t follow government’s original plan. Unnecessary.”

Fu Feng’s voice was cold discussing business, yet gaze stayed on Fang Baijing half step behind, as if afraid he would run.

He finished the last sentence and hung up.

Fu Feng turned head, suddenly stopped walking. He looked back, naturally lowered eyes staring at Fang Baijing and asked: “Don’t want to hold my hand, want to hold someone else’s?”

Today was Fang Baijing’s second day filming. He still had not accepted the script being inexplicably changed. Already irritated, he naturally knew what Fu Feng referred to.

Was it not just that he had held Chen Yun’s hand while filming?

Fu Feng’s question made Fang Baijing extremely uncomfortable. This was his job. Was arbitrarily interfering in his work not enough? Why this attitude now?

He forcefully shook off Fu Feng’s hand: “Yes! Anyone’s is fine, except yours!”

Fu Feng’s car was parked nearby. Fang Baijing walked over aggressively, yanked open the door, slammed it shut, and sat inside with grim satisfaction.

After sitting arms crossed a few seconds, he realized: This is Fu Feng’s car. Haven’t I delivered myself to the tiger’s mouth?

Fang Baijing’s expression changed. He reached for the door handle, but a sudden force from behind pulled him back.

“Driver Wang, drive.” Fu Feng sat on the other side, glanced at him, added: “Lock the doors.”

Fu Feng only pulled him back at the very start, then ignored him, as if alone in the car, lowering head continuing to read documents.

His posture trained-from-childhood posture; back ramrod straight.

Fang Baijing looked like a hyperactive elementary school boy, constantly shifting in seat, unable to resist sneaking glances at Fu Feng.

Though unwilling to admit, Fang Baijing was indeed somewhat intimidated.

Every time he confronted Fu Feng head-on he was punished, yet never learned, could not control temper when angry.

In short, endless vicious cycle.

Fang Baijing’s Adam’s apple bobbed. Fu Feng said nothing, but he could feel the oppressive atmosphere around Fu Feng nearly crushing him.

The car door was right behind; Fang Baijing’s arm stuck to it.

An indescribable grievance filled Fang Baijing’s heart. The anger endured from Fu Feng exceeded what he had suffered in his previous twenty-one years combined.

The car drove quietly. Fu Feng’s home was in a high-value villa district. The iron gate opened far ahead upon seeing the car.

Driver Wang said nothing from start to end. After parking dutifully in the space, he turned to await Fu Feng’s instructions.

Fu Feng raised hand and waved inward once.

The car unlocked. Fu Feng got out first, opened the other door, pulled out Fang Baijing who was playing ostrich.

Fu Feng disliked outsiders in the house. When home, nanny and others were kept in separate independent building.

He dragged Fang Baijing by the wrist all the way into the house.

The villa was empty; only successive footsteps echoed. Fu Feng did not walk fast, but because Fang Baijing dragged his feet, steps sounded especially heavy.

Fang Baijing stumbled following. When he looked up flustered, he realized he had been dragged into the bathroom by Fu Feng.

The washbasin was mirror-clean. Fu Feng gripped his wrist, other hand turned on faucet.

Water sound rushed like bursting dam.

Fu Feng grabbed his right hand and held it under the running water. Fang Baijing’s hand suddenly met cold shock.

“You—”

Before he could speak, Fu Feng squeezed hand soap and applied it to his hand.

Fu Feng’s fingers had calluses. They rubbed every corner of his palm; Fang Baijing’s fingertips turned red.

Hand soap foamed, but before scent could spread it was rinsed away by water.

Fu Feng washed very carefully, not missing even gaps between fingers.

Fang Baijing could not hold back and burst out cursing: “What crazy fit are you having now!”

The answer was a kiss. His waist was seized and he was lifted, butt placed on the shining tiles.

Fang Baijing struggled, knocking bottles and cans off the counter, but right hand was forcibly interlaced with Fu Feng’s fingers.

His waist held and restrained by Fu Feng, hard to even move.

Fang Baijing could only stare red-eyed, kissed by Fu Feng until breathing constricted. The more Fu Feng treated him like this, the more wronged he felt.

“Pa—”

His chest heaved suffocatingly; he still could not hold back, raised hand and slapped Fu Feng.

Air silent several seconds. Fang Baijing heavily shoved Fu Feng’s shoulder away.

“How dare you have someone change my script? Even if you wanted to change my script, shouldn’t you have told me! How dare you act like this every time!”

Fang Baijing’s chest heaved even more violently. He had hit hard; the slap merciless, leaving very obvious mark on Fu Feng’s face.

“You clearly said we are dating, that we are together. Why do I feel more like your kept pet? If you want me to do something I have to do it, if you don’t want me to do something I can’t do anything at all!” As Fang Baijing spoke, his nose stung. His voice grew smaller, eyes very red.

Before meeting Fu Feng, his life had been smooth.

Family doted on him, friends indulged him; upon entering entertainment industry he landed big production, played likable role, debuted with many fans.

He was just unlucky to meet Fu Feng.

Fang Baijing wiped eyes with back of hand, tearfully accused: “You’re bullying me again.”

But his weakness lasted only a second. Fang Baijing took deep breath as if changing person. He pointed at door, looked straight at Fu Feng, and cursed: “Get out.”