On a night of torrential rain, Shen Jianian, her clothes torn and her face a mess, fell to her knees at a man’s feet. Her pale face tilted up, her lips trembling as she begged, “Save me…”
Beneath the black umbrella, the man’s face was impossible to make out. All she heard was a brief, soft laugh, impossible to read.
Lu Yanzhi, standing nearby, thought to himself: This girl had found the right person. His friend’s favorite pastime was bringing stray cats and dogs home to raise.
Don’t assume he was overflowing with compassion. Take the stray cat he brought home last month, for instance. When it clawed him, he brushed it away and was so disgusted that he refused to look at it again.
Sure enough, on a whim, he carried the girl home to Rose Manor as if she were a stray cat and carefully took care of her. He gave her the most delicious food, bought her the prettiest dresses, and gifted her the most expensive cello.
It didn’t take long for word to spread through every social circle in Yicheng: the Fu family’s young master had a woman by his side.
Those who knew Fu’s temperament sneered. “Just watch. He’ll toss her out before long.”
When Fu Jichen appeared in public a few days later, he had two scratches on his neck. Later, even that godlike handsome face of his was scratched up.
Everyone wondered: His cat or dog at home is making this much trouble, and he still hasn’t thrown it out?
Late one night, Fu Jichen returned home and, by the dim, warm light of the bedside lamp, sat beside the bed, pulled someone’s hand out from under the covers, and clipped her nails.
If he didn’t trim them, he wouldn’t be able to show his face in public either.
The ridiculous thing was that Fu Jichen had never once considered throwing Shen Jianian away. She, on the other hand, ran off without a word, leaving behind a hand-carved ornament with an aged slip of paper tucked beneath it. The inscription read: “A match made in heaven.”
Fu Jichen was furious. He searched everywhere for that heartless cat.