Chapter Twenty-Six: I Don’t Want Your Blessing

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Su Mian had heard Shang Jiuxu say that, when her biological father, Su Changyang, was still alive, he had fought with exceptional bravery in the army. No matter how hopeless the situation—outnumbered and outmatched—as long as his commander gave the order, he would charge into battle without the slightest fear.

She sometimes thought she had inherited that same martial, combative nature from him. Violent impulses ran through her blood, condemning her to never become a true member of the Shang family.

She had never intended to throw the wine bottle. Its expensive red wine trickled steadily onto the floor. Nor was she so fair-minded as to fight Shang Jiuxu bare-handed while she herself went unarmed.

Not even drawing a Corolo pistol would have been necessary; it would only have shown contempt for Shang Jiuxu’s ability.

No one called for the fight to begin. Su Mian moved first. As always, she led with her left hand, but with her right she swung the wine bottle upward.

Straight at Shang Jiuxu’s throat.

Elegant and composed, he moved with such ease that even his emergency defenses seemed languid.

That was the Shang family’s bloodline.

Shang Jiuxu lightly caught Su Mian’s right wrist with his right hand. He was reluctant to use force, but the angle was so cunning that she lost her leverage.

The shattered bottle fell through the air, and he caught it casually.

The sensation of his fingers around her wrist lasted only an instant. It did not hurt; instead, it left a faint, tingling numbness.

The coolness of that patch of skin seemed not to have faded, yet it burned with the heat of memories she could not suppress.

Her attack did not stop. Ignoring the strange feeling in her wrist, Su Mian drove forward with a swift left jab—a feint meant to draw her opponent’s gaze.

A standard opening move of the Shang school.

Shang Jiuxu could still remember Su Mian at the age of five, obediently and earnestly practicing those techniques.

Back then, her movements had been clumsy and adorable. She would recite each move under her breath, softly naming it whenever she shifted into a new position.

He had stood beside her beneath the sun, wearing a brimless sun hat, because she did not want to be the only one getting tanned.

From time to time, he would call out instructions. Whenever her form was wrong, he would come over and adjust her little hands himself. When he bent down, he always had to catch the strawberry-patterned children’s thermos hanging from his shoulder so it would not fall.

Su Mian had worn a sun hat too—a snow-white one with a crown. Apart from the discreet luxury-brand logo, the brim was decorated with stickers of Winnie the Pooh, which had curled at the edges beneath the blazing sun.

He would take out wet wipes and wipe her face. Her small, round cheeks were pale and plump, beads of sparkling sweat glistening on them. Whenever he tried to clean her face, she would obediently close her grape-like eyes.

The child disliked drinking plain water. It took him ages to coax her into taking two reluctant sips before she asked, “Shang Jiuxu, how much longer until we can rest?”

Her voice was soft and childish, yet she had an affectedly mature air, forever trying to play the grown-up.

Eleven-year-old Shang Jiuxu pinched his little sister’s cheek.

“Two more rounds, then we’ll go inside and have ice cream.”

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Ice cream!

Su Mian’s eyes lit up. “Strawberry?”

“Mm. And vanilla, too.”

Su Mian had no idea how many thoughts had flashed through Shang Jiuxu’s mind in that instant, but she could see that his attention had wandered.

And this punch, mimicking a childhood memory, had been meant to distract him from the start.

Seize the moment.

The reminder came from a distant memory. It was Shang Jiuxu’s voice.

Su Mian lowered her center of gravity and turned sideways to face him. Her left leg swept low in a crisp motion, touching down and withdrawing in a single instant.

The moment Shang Jiuxu saw the slightest movement in her left shoulder, he did not retreat. Instead, he slid forward to the right while lowering his right hand, blocking with his forearm and elbow. The hardest parts of the human body collided precisely with the shin of Su Mian’s sweeping leg.

That should have hurt terribly.

The instant Su Mian realized what had happened, she was already enduring the pain. The impact would effectively deter her from following up with another low kick, while also destroying her positional advantage.

But Shang Jiuxu withdrew at once. The pain she had expected never arrived.

Like an enraged little lion, Su Mian rushed into close range. She forced down against his neck with her left hand and drove her left knee upward.

Shang Jiuxu wrapped both arms around her waist and thigh. Rather than resisting, he seemed to be protecting her. He pressed his body tightly against hers like a heavy boulder, shortening the distance of her knee strike until she had no room to generate force.

Within the shelter of his arms, the wrought-iron railing outside could not strike her body. Following her momentum, he let her push him against it, his back taking the impact while hot air rose beyond the fifteenth floor.

His next move should have been to hook his right foot around the ankle of Su Mian’s supporting leg—a classic Muay Thai clinch technique for destroying an opponent’s balance.

But he did not.

Su Mian tilted her head back in his arms and questioned him with her eyes.

Are you going easy on me?

Shang Jiuxu understood. So he tripped her and sent her sprawling. As she fell onto her back, he shielded her head with his palm to keep it from striking the ground.

She took the opportunity to kick at his supporting leg, intending to bring him down with her.

Shang Jiuxu was left-handed. Like her, he used his right leg as his supporting leg when he fought.

The moment she swung her leg, Su Mian realized something was wrong.

Given Shang Jiuxu’s reaction speed, he could certainly have dodged in time. Yet he did not. He simply let her continue.

There was no point. She stopped the kick.

Lying on the ground with her head pillowed on Shang Jiuxu’s left arm, Su Mian crossed both hands over her chest.

“I concede.”

Shang Jiuxu held out his hand, indicating that he would pull her up. Su Mian brushed past it and sprang lightly to her feet on her own.

She realized that he had gone easy on her after all, but she had no wish to expose him.

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Shang Jiuxu had not even used his customary left hand. If she had not explicitly told him not to hold back, he probably would have fought her the entire time with his left hand tucked in his pocket.

By using his less familiar right hand as his dominant one, he had shifted his weight onto his left leg rather than his right. Even if Su Mian had swept at his right leg, it would have made no difference. That was why he had not dodged.

Conceding had left them both room to retreat. It was for the best. After all, each of them understood perfectly well what had happened.

Su Mian had never felt so powerless.

When she had pursued Shang Jiuxu and received no response, she had not given up. When she had broken up with him, she had not lost hope. Even after enduring every kind of hardship in the entertainment industry, she had never thought it amounted to anything. During the two years they had lost contact, she had still found a way to meet him again.

But now she felt powerless—powerless in the face of a result she could not change, no matter what she did.

Discovering the truth was useless. Confronting him was useless. Nothing was of any use. Only his thoughts and his arrangements mattered.

She had fallen in love with a man who would never allow himself to be vulnerable. He had seen her at her most wretched, while she had seen only the side of him that was always in complete control. Even when he ended their relationship, he had simply vanished.

He was not afraid of her learning the truth, nor of her confronting him in person, because she could change nothing. Whether they stayed together or parted ways, the script had already been written by him.

And the part of himself he did not want her to see was forever like an iceberg beneath the water. What lay hidden below was the real truth.

Su Mian crouched down and covered her forehead with the back of her hand. Her long hair enclosed her like a prison.

For as long as she could remember, Shang Jiuxu had always been this unhurried and composed. No matter what hardship or danger came rushing toward him, he remained unmoved.

His smile was courtesy. His gentleness was breeding. He could make everyone feel as though they were basking in a spring breeze.

Among all the children of the great compounds in West Hill, people spoke of Shang Jiuxu with admiration and bright smiles, yet their reverence for him had already seeped into their unconscious minds.

He possessed an instinctive ability to make people smile, as well as the power to make them believe he could easily punish anything and anyone.

That was his sense of boundaries.

So Su Mian began to wonder whether she had ever truly come close to his heart.

Shang Jiuxu looked down at her in silence. He did not step forward to comfort her. Only after a long while did he speak.

“Perhaps you want to know why.”

In truth, he had known unease. He had had weaknesses. When she decided to end their relationship, he had guessed that she had discovered something. She had chosen to break up with him in order to set him free.

Su Mian silently allowed him to continue.

Shang Jiuxu leaned against the railing, still looking down at her. His voice was so soft it seemed a single breeze might scatter it.

“I never wanted your sacrifice.”

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I only wanted you.