Chapter Thirty-Eight: The Gathering Storm (Part Six)

Faced with He Yurou’s malicious words and ridicule, Mo Qinghan’s beautiful face remained expressionless, but a coldness flickered in her dark, captivating eyes. The sight sent chills down He Yurou’s spine, making her sweat with anxiety. Mo Qinghan stepped closer and closer, forcing He Yurou into a corner with no escape. Stammering, He Yurou asked, “Mo… Qinghan, what are you going to do?”

Mo Qinghan gazed at her intently for a long moment, the corners of her lips curling into a cold smile. Her rosy lips parted slightly. “Do you know who left that mark on my neck?”

He Yurou paused, her eyes darting back and forth as if searching for answers. Her lips, bitten nearly raw, trembled as she tried to speak, only to be interrupted by Mo Qinghan. “That’s right. It was your beloved Senior Zhao. Haven’t you always claimed to be his girlfriend? So why didn’t he leave you a mark—something that says you belong to him? And you—”

Before she could finish, a sharp slap echoed through the restroom. He Yurou’s hand struck Mo Qinghan’s pale cheek, leaving a faint, burning red swelling. The force startled even He Yurou herself. After a moment to compose herself, she straightened her posture and said weakly, “You brought this on yourself.”

Mo Qinghan touched her bruised face, her gaze as calm and indifferent as ever. “Yurou, this will be the last time I call you that. This slap has ended any feelings I had for you. And if you really have what it takes, then keep your so-called man from pestering me. Don’t make it seem like I stole him from you. You act like a jealous wife, ready to devour me whole.”

He Yurou was rendered speechless by Mo Qinghan’s barrage. She could only glare at her with fury.

As Mo Qinghan left the restroom, she tossed one last warning to He Yurou. “If you ever use my brother against me again, I promise you’ll see another side of what it means to be a scheming woman.”

Leaning against the wall, He Yurou’s face was grim as she muttered to herself, “Mo Qinghan, I’ll uncover the man behind you and expose all your dirty secrets before Qingwu, so he knows how filthy you really are.”

Mo Qinghan, exiting the restroom, didn’t return to the private room. She called her counselor, asking her to inform Director Yang that there was an emergency at the hospital.

Back in the private room, He Yurou acted as if nothing had happened. Zhao Qingwu, noticing that Mo Qinghan had been gone for a while, asked, “Is Mo Qinghan still in the restroom?”

He Yurou replied curtly, “How should I know? I didn’t see her in there.”

Director Yang chimed in with a smile, “Her counselor just called me—said Mo Qinghan had to go to the hospital.”

Zhao Qingwu immediately asked, “Is she alright?”

Director Yang answered, “It isn’t her—it’s her brother, Mo Qingyu.”

With that, Zhao Qingwu stopped asking. However, He Zheyun’s expression grew even darker.

After the dinner, as He Zheyun bid farewell to Principal Li and the others and prepared to leave, Zhao Qingwu said to him, “I’ll go with you.”

He Yurou chimed in, “Great! Let’s take uncle’s car together.”

Zhao Qingwu looked at He Zheyun and clarified, “I meant just you and me.”

He Zheyun shrugged. “That’s exactly what I had in mind.”

He Yurou pouted, “Uncle, don’t forget me!”

He Zheyun ignored her, his cold gaze fixed on Zhao Qingwu, but he spoke to Han Mo instead. “Take Yurou home.” Then, turning to Zhao Qingwu, he tossed out two curt words—“Get in”—and strode to the driver’s seat. Zhao Qingwu followed. Without a moment’s pause, the car sped off, leaving behind only a choking cloud of exhaust.

He Yurou coughed and remarked, “Why do I feel that uncle and Qingwu are both angry? Han Mo, do you know what happened?”

Han Mo shook his head without speaking, but thought to himself, “How could the boss tolerate his woman being coveted by another man?” The thought sent a chill through him.

He Zheyun pressed the accelerator, speeding up to 180 miles per hour. The car was so quiet that only the faint hum of the engine could be heard. Zhao Qingwu, sitting rigidly without even fastening his seat belt, stared sharply ahead, showing not the slightest fear.

Upon reaching their destination, He Zheyun uttered only two words to Zhao Qingwu: “Get out.”

Zhao Qingwu stepped out of the car, his gaze landing on the sign for “Boshen Boxing Club.” Tilting his head, he shot He Zheyun a cold look before walking in.

Inside, the manager hurried over, bowing and nodding. “Mr. He, your sparring partner isn’t here today. Shall I arrange someone else?”

He Zheyun stopped in his tracks, looking at Zhao Qingwu. “Find him some gear.”

The manager eyed Zhao Qingwu’s delicate appearance with concern. “Is he up to it?”

At those words, Zhao Qingwu’s face darkened. “Why waste words? Want to try a round with me first?” He made a gesture, fist striking his palm.

The manager laughed awkwardly. “I’d rather not. I know my own limits.” He then led Zhao Qingwu to the changing room.