Chapter 41 Fu Shiyong, You Still Chose Her!

"Yu Yue, do you have any idea how crucial this global art exhibition is to your future career and to my dignity?"

Slap after slap rained down.

One side of Yu Yue's face swelled high, the corners of her lips splitting open into bloody gashes from which crimson beads oozed continuously.

Yet her biological mother showed not a shred of mercy.

With seven or eight consecutive kicks, she vented her fury directly onto her "beloved daughter."

"Even the daughter of that slutty plagiarist managed to get selected."

"Yu Yue, I believe that no matter how hard you try for the rest of your life, you will still end up utterly crushed beneath Yu Zao's thumb forever!"

The words grew increasingly vicious.

Zhao Yueyao raised her hand to strike again.

However, Fu Shiyong, who had remained silent until now, stepped forward to block her. "Auntie, it is merely an ordinary art exhibition. I can arrange for Yu Yue to—"

"Shiyong, take a look for yourself."

A trending topic was climbing frantically in popularity.

#TheWagerOfThirtyYearsAgo#

On the screen was a photograph of a yellowed sheet of paper.

Delicate handwriting spelled out the most malicious words.

——[I, Liu Luosen, make a wager with Zhao Yueyao to see whose descendant will be the first to have their artwork shortlisted for the global art exhibition in the future.]

——[The loser, along with their children, must strip off their clothing in front of the media, crawl on all fours like dogs, bark like dogs, and publicly announce their complete and permanent retirement from the art world!]

"Shiyong, sob, sob~ Please don't blame my mother; she only did this out of concern for me."

"Now that the wager has surfaced online, Mother and I must bear the consequences of losing."

Yu Yue knelt on the ground, weeping bitterly.

Zhao Yueyao gritted her teeth. "The only reason this wager has appeared online is because of that little wretch Yu Zao! She wants revenge and wants to humiliate Yu Yue and me completely!"

"Mom! No matter the facts, Yu Zao is still my older sister. Please don't speak of her that way, especially with Shiyong right here!"

The future Madame Fu invariably projected an image of noble understanding.

She even bit her lip in agony and turned resolutely toward the door.

"Forget it. Today happens to be the day Sister goes to confirm her shortlisted entry. I will go fulfill the wager by myself and bear everything."

With those words, Fu Shiyong pulled Yu Yue tightly into his arms with a look of heartache.

His midnight-black eyes remained unfathomable, masking deep, impenetrable emotions regardless of time, place, or circumstance.

"Shiyong..."

"I will help you."

The man spoke every single word with chilling clarity.

Yu Yue looked up in astonishment. "You will help me? But if you do that, the one who has to fulfill the wager and endure the punishment will be Sister."

"She deserves it. A heartless woman who abandoned her husband and child—no one will pity her."

"But you are different, Yu Yue. I made a promise to you, and I, Fu Shiyong, will protect you and Yiyi for the rest of our lives."

Yang Chen’s car parked outside the art center.

Before stepping out, Yu Zao was so nervous that she dug her fingernails into her cuticles until the dead skin peeled back.

She kept turning back to look every few steps, resembling a deeply insecure child as she muttered, "Brother Yang, did I really get shortlisted? Is God truly willing to grant me a stroke of luck this once?"

Ever since her mother's death...

A relentless cascade of misfortunes had weighed so heavily upon the wretched woman that she had begun to wonder if she was simply born to be cursed.

Yang Chen chuckled softly.

He stepped out of the car after her, handing her a refreshing mint candy and a calming pill.

"Don't worry, I will wait for you right at the entrance."

"Besides, Little Yu, the tides turn every thirty years; someone as kind as you deserves some reward at last."

Really?

Would God truly spare her this time?

Filled with trepidation, Yu Zao clutched the completed shortlisted entry confirmation contract and followed the stream of people inside.

Yet the moment her turn came in the queue and her identity was verified, the organizing committee's leaders led a group straight toward her and slammed a lawyer's letter for copyright infringement directly into her face.

"Are you Yu Zao? Following investigation and evidence presentation by the Fu Group, it is now one hundred percent certain that your painting, *Purgatory*, is the original creation of Miss Yu Yue!"

The sharp, abrasive edge of the A4 printer paper sliced across Yu Zao’s delicate cheek before fluttering to the floor.

Almost simultaneously, internet influencers and reporters, smelling gossip like hounds, rushed in from all directions.

The familiar, malicious questions began.

Blinding camera flashes illuminated the space ruthlessly.

"Miss Yu Zao, Mr. Fu personally recorded a video just moments ago. Have you seen it?"

"Miss Yu Zao, not only did you plagiarize Miss Yu Yue's artwork, but you also intentionally leaked the wager online."

"Is your malicious and heartless nature the result of inheriting your mother's 'fine traditions'?"

Every liquid crystal screen inside the art center began broadcasting a multi-minute video in unison.

On the screen, the man tenderly and affectionately gathered his tearful fiancée into his arms.

After murmuring a few soothing words, he turned to face the camera.

"I, Fu Shiyong, use my own reputation and identity to testify that *Purgatory* was independently completed by Yu Yue and she holds the absolute copyright!"

As his voice trailed off, Fu Yiyi scampered into the frame.

The child held up a drawing board with two chubby little hands.

On it were cartoon characters drawn with oil pastels.

An unimaginably ugly and thoroughly filthy demon was being trampled underfoot and thoroughly abused by a kind, beautiful princess and prince.

The little one shrieked, "Bad woman, get away! My mommy is the real master artist, you vixen, you slut!"

The video stopped.

The final frame froze on the photograph of the so-called thirty-year wager.

The organizing committee leader waved his hand and commanded, "Seal off all entrances and exits! No one is allowed to enter until this plagiarist fulfills the wager!"

In Jingbei, right and wrong mattered not.

Whatever Fu Shiyong declared to be true became true; whatever he pronounced white became black!

"Little Yu! Move aside! I am a member of the Yang family, what do you think you're doing? She is a patient, get the hell away from me!"

Yang Chen was intercepted by seven or eight bodyguards.

No matter how formidable his martial arts skills or how strong his physique, two fists could never withstand four pairs of hands.

Before long, bruised and battered, he was forced down onto the ground.

"Little Yu!"

Ah!

Rip—

The reporters, the organizers' staff, and even the other artists shortlisted alongside her...

Burning with righteous indignation, they ignored every plea and explanation of innocence Yu Zao offered.

Playing the role of self-righteous moral crusaders, they tore savagely at her clothing.

When she stubbornly refused to kneel, someone maliciously drove the sharp tip of a ballpoint pen repeatedly into the hollows behind her knees, piercing and withdrawing it over and over again...

Thud!

Frailer than ordinary people to begin with, Yu Zao crashed hard onto the unyielding marble floor.

The all-too-familiar sound of bone fracturing blended with a torrent of curses and accusations, plunging her vision into sudden darkness and sending her mind spinning into uncontrolled dizziness.

One or two internet influencers, eager to boost their view counts, deliberately opened Yu Yue’s Weibo profile and swiped through a freshly uploaded nine-grid photo collage.

The first image:

To elicit a smile from his beloved wife, Fu Shiyong knelt on one knee to eat durian, a fruit he detested.

Meanwhile, Yu Zao had a dog leash forcibly fitted around her neck.

The second image:

Fu Shiyong, stripped to the waist, displayed a dangerously alluring physique partially hidden beneath a pink lace apron.

The man was personally cooking a meal for his beloved wife.

Yu Yue flashed a cheerful victory sign.

Beside them, someone kicked Yu Zao viciously in the face, roaring, "You vicious wretch, start barking right now! Daring to offend the future Madame Fu means you're asking for a death wish!"

The third, fourth, and fifth images...

Every single picture oozed pink bubbles and heavy ambiguity.

The man loved his fiancée to the depths of his soul, and his dark, obsidian-like eyes reflected only the image of Yu Yue.

"Not going to bark? Fine! Then we'll pull out your teeth and see if you make a sound!"

Her jaw was forced open with brutal strength.

Iron pliers clamped onto her front teeth.

Yang Chen’s furious roars grew increasingly indistinct.

Echoing in her ears were the mocking, triumphant words she had desperately tried to shut out:

"Yu Zao, doesn't it hurt?"

"To pamper Yu Yue, Fu Shiyong was willing to frame you, ruin your reputation, and destroy your future."

"This man doesn't love you anymore! Shouldn't you be overjoyed?"

"Three years ago, when you left regardless of the consequences, wasn't it precisely for this outcome?"

"Hahaha, or how about this—release me from confinement, and I'll help you out, shall we?"