Chapter 125: Limitations

The sharp pain in her chin made it clear: he was genuinely angry, and he had no love for the child in her womb either.

A-Zhou was all too self-aware, yet she had naively hoped for a miracle. Though He Cheng had been cruel to her, there were moments when he had been kind—few and far between, perhaps, but enough for her to hold onto. And so, she had held onto them until now.

Tears streaming down her face, she gazed at him, her fingers winding around his arm. "Please don't hurt it," she pleaded, sobbing. "It’s been over four months already. It’s your child, too."

He Cheng curled his lips into a low, mocking laugh. "Since you say it's mine, then I suppose it is."

At these words, A-Zhou thought he had had a change of heart and offered a rare, fragile smile. But before she could find any comfort, he scooped her up and placed her on the sofa. He braced his hands on either side of her, his eyes cold and ferocious, as if he were about to do something terrible.

A-Zhou knew that look all too well. Her heart hammered against her ribs. "Brother Cheng, not now... I can’t... I’m pregnant..."

"If I want to, do you think you can stop me?"

"But the doctor said my placenta is low-lying, I can't have intercourse. It'll be dangerous." A-Zhou was terrified, her hands pressed against her chest, trembling not just from fear of the act, but from the greater fear of displeasing him.

"Oh? And what does that have to do with me?"

His tone was cold, heartless, and utterly callous—the hallmark of a man who didn't care for her in the slightest. To him, she was nothing more than a plaything.

How could she not be heartbroken? Tears spilled over as she whispered, "I’ve stayed by your side for so long, haven't I? Brother Cheng, don't treat me like this. Regardless of everything else, I’m carrying your child, aren't I?"

He Cheng was not in the mood for her chatter. Disgusted by her voice, he covered her mouth with his hand, his movements mechanical and cold, treating her merely as a tool to vent his frustrations.

A-Zhou did not cooperate, her tears flowing until she felt drained, begging him to stop. But he didn't listen. Especially since the way her face looked when she cried reminded him so much of someone else from the past.

Xin Gan.

When Xin Gan had asked him to delete those photos, she had also cried, saying she never expected him to be that kind of person—that she had trusted him, treated him as a friend, yet he had committed such a vile act.

He hadn't been able to have Xin Gan, so he had found a woman whose features vaguely resembled hers. But she wasn't her, and no matter how many times they slept together, it never felt right.

A fake is always a fake; it can never compare to the real thing.

The thought only made him more irritable, further ruining his mood. The woman beneath him kept crying—that tear-streaked face was annoying, a real turn-off.

He Cheng stood up, picked up his clothes from the floor, and tossed them onto the sofa. "Let me tell you, whatever you and Tan Yazhuo are plotting, you won't win against me. Don't even dream of it."

"Tan Yazhuo?" A-Zhou stammered. "No, I haven't done anything."

Her explanation was weak and hollow. She had no evidence, so to He Cheng, she was just a fool trying to play games with him. He couldn't be bothered with her anymore. Before leaving, he stared at her stomach for a moment. "Four months, is it?"

A-Zhou wanted to stop him, but she couldn't rise; a dull ache pulsed in her lower abdomen.

"Yes, four months." Fearing he would heartlessly discard her and the baby, she begged again, "The child is innocent. I have nothing left now, Brother Cheng. Please, let me keep the baby. I beg you, don't hurt it."

A man like He Cheng was capable of anything. A-Zhou didn't want to believe it, but she had to; reality was often cruel. She knew he wasn't a good person, yet she still pined for him, hoping he would turn back and be kind to her.

He Cheng slammed the door as he left.

A-Zhou’s stomach pain intensified. She clutched her abdomen and called for the nanny. The nanny had been hiding in the kitchen, terrified by the commotion in the living room. She hadn't dared to show her face—that man looked like trouble, and she wanted no part of it. Only after he left did she finally emerge.

"Auntie, take me to the hospital. My stomach hurts," A-Zhou said, her voice weak, her face deathly pale. She didn't dare move.

The nanny hurriedly called for an ambulance.

...

Shortly after leaving A-Zhou, He Cheng received a call informing him that she had been admitted to the hospital, though the details remained unclear.

He hung up, lit a cigarette, and drove to Xin Gan's art studio. He didn't go up; instead, he lingered nearby. His reputation was sensitive right now; he couldn't afford any more scandals. But he had to see Xin Gan.

It wasn't until evening, around five or six, that Xin Gan emerged from the studio. She was on the phone, walking and talking with a smile on her face. To He Cheng, it was obvious she was talking to Cheng Jiu, and that smile was blindingly bright.

His expression darkened. He couldn't stand seeing Xin Gan happy; her joy only served to provoke him. He wanted to destroy her, to make her just like him.

After finishing her call, Xin Gan prepared to drive back to the Xin family home. She made the trip once or twice a week to have dinner with her parents. If Cheng Jiu wasn't busy, he would go with her; if he was, she would go alone. Recently, his work responsibilities had changed, keeping him busier than before.

Xin Gan was a steady driver. Although she hadn't been driving for long, she was competent. When Cheng Jiu was around, he usually drove, but most of the time, she was on her own. She had never had an accident or even scraped her car.

But tonight, a small accident occurred.

She was rear-ended.

A car had slammed into the back of hers, forcing her to pull over to inspect the damage. When the driver of the other car stepped out, Xin Gan realized immediately that it hadn't been an accident at all.

The driver was He Cheng.

The two cars sat by the side of the road. As Xin Gan reached for her phone to call the police, He Cheng snatched it away with lightning speed. He grabbed her wrist, pulling her toward him. "Let’s settle this privately. No need to involve the police. I take full responsibility."

A man’s strength was naturally greater than a woman’s. Xin Gan couldn't break free. She looked at him and said, "If you take full responsibility, then there's no problem. Now, please let go of me."

He Cheng wasn't wearing a mask, and Xin Gan recognized him instantly. "Why are you alone? Where's Cheng Jiu?"

Xin Gan’s expression remained cold. "That’s none of your business. Let go."

"I don't want to. What are you going to do about it?"

Xin Gan didn't want to cause a scene on the public road. He was a celebrity and could be photographed at any moment; she didn't want to be dragged into that. "If you don't let go, I’m calling the police."

"Go ahead. I don't care. I'll even sell the story to the media for you, let them come and take pictures. If I don't care, you shouldn't either."

"He Cheng, I don't want to play your crazy games. Let go." Xin Gan didn't want to be harsh, but he always knew how to make her angry.

"Why should I? Do you think you get to decide everything?"

Xin Gan took a deep breath, trying to avoid a direct confrontation. "Is it necessary? Is it necessary to harass me like this?"

"Yes, it really is. Xin Xin, I haven't had dinner yet. Come on, keep me company." With that, he dragged her toward his car.

...

From start to finish, Xin Gan couldn't break free and was forced into his car. His vehicle had barely been damaged, just a few scratches from the rear-end collision.

He Cheng quickly drove to a private club and pulled Xin Gan inside. The staff were puzzled by the tension between them, but as the customers were always right, they dared not ask questions—especially since those who frequented such places were wealthy or powerful.

Even when ordering, He Cheng kept a tight grip on her wrist to prevent her from running. Xin Gan couldn't help but call him insane.

He Cheng only smiled faintly. "You can curse me all you want. As long as you're happy and smile at me, you can say whatever you like."

Xin Gan: "..."

On Xin Gan’s right ring finger was a wedding ring, a matching set with Cheng Jiu’s. The design was distinct, and wearing it on that finger made its meaning clear at a glance—even to He Cheng.

He Cheng stared at her ring and said coolly, "I almost forgot. You and Cheng Jiu got married, and I didn't give you a gift. Xin Xin, let me make it up to you, shall we?"

Xin Gan’s eyes were cold. "Not necessary."

"It's fine. It should be done, if only to honor the fact that we once knew each other."

He Cheng made a phone call, arranging for a cake to be delivered. He was quite specific about the layers, the toppings, and the style. Xin Gan ignored him, thinking he had truly lost his mind.

The food was served, and the waiter retreated, closing the door behind them. Xin Gan had no appetite. She lowered her gaze, unwilling to even look at him.

He Cheng finally loosened his grip, not worried she would run. "Finish this meal with me, and I’ll send you back. Back to Cheng Jiu’s side."

Even though he hated the idea of returning her to another man—even if that man was her legitimate husband. If he hadn't been so careless back then, if he hadn't let her discover those photos, Cheng Jiu wouldn't be in the picture today.

He regretted it, to some extent. But with his personality, he could hide it for a moment, but never for a lifetime.

Xin Gan remained unmoved, not even picking up her chopsticks.

He Cheng began piling food into her bowl, acting as if he were possessed. "I know you're hungry, eat. This is all your favorite food. Back abroad, you said you wanted authentic Chinese food, and I walked through half of Chinatown with you, but you never found it."

Xin Gan remained silent, showing no reaction.

"You were so good to me back then, too. You were afraid I wouldn't get used to foreign food, so you tried to cook for me yourself. Xin Xin, I know you were good to me. Look at me, I remember it all."

"Enough. Stop talking. The more you talk, the more I only remember the things you did back then. That time was not a good memory for me. Your actions caused me serious harm. He Cheng, don't you think this act of yours is ridiculous?"

He Cheng paused, his expression subtle. "Fine, let's not mention it. Let's talk about something happy."

"I can't be happy sitting here with you."

He Cheng curled his lips, slammed his chopsticks down, and looked at Xin Gan with a sinister smile. "Must you talk to me like that?"

Xin Gan met his eyes directly. "If you don't like how I speak, I can leave anytime. Don't block me."

As she moved to leave, He Cheng lunged, grabbing her hair and pulling her head back. "Did I give you permission to leave? Do you despise me that much? Do you have any idea how much I’ve done for you? Leave? Where are you going? Back to Cheng Jiu? What makes him so special?"

He was like a wild beast, devoid of humanity. "Let me tell you, Xin Gan, you aren't leaving tonight. Dealing with you is too easy. Don't be naive enough to think I’ll let you go."

Just as he had torn A-Zhou’s clothes, he began to tear at hers. Xin Gan used all her strength to push him away, one hand protecting her clothes, the other blocking his reach, but it was all in vain.

He soon saw the marks on her chest—faint, but enough to prove the intimacy she had shared with Cheng Jiu. Even though he had expected it, the sight enraged him. He pinched her cheeks, his voice dropping to a low, angry growl. "I shouldn't have let you go back then. I should have just taken you. A woman like you, rotten to the core, yet you pretend to be pure. Look at yourself—do you even deserve it?"

Xin Gan struggled to pry his hands off. Her cheeks were red and aching from his grip, bruised by his fingers. She quickly pulled her clothes back together. "He Cheng, what I am or do has nothing to do with you." She was angry and humiliated, tears welling in her eyes. She forced them back, refusing to let them fall. "I only regret that I ever met you."

This clearly stung him. His eyes turned bloodshot, his face twisted in a mask of rage.

Just then, a waiter knocked on the door, ready to serve the next dish.

...

After finishing his business meeting, Cheng Jiu called Xin Gan on his way home, but there was no answer; her phone was busy. He had had a few drinks at the meeting, and the high alcohol content made him feel slightly dizzy. He couldn't drive, so he had called for a designated driver.

Being unable to reach Xin Gan was rare—she never left him unable to contact her unless something was wrong. He called the Cheng family home, but the nanny said she hadn't returned.

Cheng Jiu’s brow furrowed deep. Something was wrong.

He immediately called the art studio. The assistant who was still working answered. After a few questions, Cheng Jiu learned that Xin Gan had left after six in the evening.

The moment he hung up, his eyelid twitched. His phone rang again, and he answered it immediately.

...

Xin Gan lay in the hospital, a thick bandage wrapped around her wrist. Because of the blood loss, she was pale and looked fragile.

The doctor had just finished dressing the wound, warning her about keeping it dry. Shortly after he left, the door opened. Xin Gan looked up to see Cheng Jiu.

His expression was more serious than she had ever seen. Xin Gan bit her lip, shrinking back, looking at him with lingering fear. Her voice was hoarse as she called out, "Cheng Jiu."

Cheng Jiu stepped forward and took her wrist, his gaze lingering on the bandaged wound before he asked the doctor for the details. After the doctor left, Cheng Jiu fell into a heavy silence, gripping Xin Gan’s hand tightly.

When they were finally alone, Xin Gan whispered, "I’m fine. Don't worry."

Cheng Jiu caressed her cheek. "What happened?"

Xin Gan hesitated, afraid to speak. But she knew that if she didn't, he would investigate anyway. She weighed her options and finally said, "He Cheng rear-ended my car tonight and took me away. But... the wound was my own doing. If I hadn't done it, he wouldn't have let me go."

"I understand. Rest well." There was no need for her to say more; Cheng Jiu already knew. His throat tightened. He held her uninjured hand and said, "I'm sorry."

Xin Gan shook her head, her eyes turning red. "It’s my fault. I was careless. I didn't think he would be so brazen." She looked at Cheng Jiu with concern; she didn't want him to worry.

Cheng Jiu kissed her forehead, then her nose, saying nothing. There was nothing left to say.

...

He wished he could bear the pain she had suffered. It was his carelessness, too.

A knock sounded at the door, and it was pushed open. It was Jiang Meng.

Jiang Meng had expected Cheng Jiu to come, but not so quickly. She looked at the woman in the hospital bed—pale, yet still beautiful and elegant. She and Cheng Jiu made a perfect pair.

"Miss Xin, sorry to disturb you. I’ve already paid your initial medical fees."

Jiang Meng worked at the club where the incident happened. She was a minor manager and happened to be on duty tonight, which was how she had ended up involved. The incident had caused quite a stir.

Xin Gan said, "Could you give me your card? I’ll reimburse you. After all, I caused the injury myself; it has nothing to do with your club."

At the time, the situation had been desperate. He Cheng had been acting like a madman, and she had no other choice. She had grabbed a cake knife and cut herself. Even someone as inhuman as He Cheng wouldn't want her blood on his hands—not to mention he was a celebrity and couldn't afford a death on his record.

So, He Cheng had left, made a call, and walked out of the club.

Jiang Meng’s feelings were complex, especially since she had run into her ex-boyfriend here. "Just add me on WeChat. I don't have my bank card with me."

Cheng Jiu interrupted, "How much were the medical fees? I’ll pay you directly."

Jiang Meng looked at him. "It wasn't much, just a few hundred. Forget it. We’re acquaintances, and I’m glad Miss Xin is okay. It’s a small amount, it doesn't matter."

Cheng Jiu said, "It must be settled. I don't take favors from strangers."

Jiang Meng was deeply hurt by that word—stranger. To him, she was a stranger, so everything had to be settled. She had been thoroughly excluded.

Cheng Jiu wasn't a man who clung to old feelings; he didn't leave loose ends, nor did he want to owe her. He took cash out of his pocket and handed it to her.

Xin Gan felt a bit dizzy and struggled to keep up with the conversation. Cheng Jiu poured her a glass of warm water and carefully fed it to her. Jiang Meng stood there, holding the money, wanting to say something, but seeing the way he looked at Xin Gan, she couldn't find the words. She left in defeat.

After drinking the water, Xin Gan said, "You seem very unhappy."

Cheng Jiu put the glass down, took her hand, and kissed it repeatedly, saying nothing.

...

Jiang Meng left the room, leaning against the wall for support. The scene in the hospital room was burned into her mind; she couldn't forget it. Even when she was with him, she had never received such attentive care. Her heart was in turmoil.

As she stepped outside to hail a taxi, she realized she had left her bag in the room, likely when she went to pay the bill. She had to go back. As she entered the elevator, she saw Cheng Jiu, holding her bag.

He handed it to her. "You forgot this."

Jiang Meng took it, wanting to speak, but he had nothing to say and turned to walk away. Summoning a sudden burst of courage, she called out, "Cheng Jiu!"

He stopped and looked back.

Jiang Meng bit her lip. "Miss Xin was hurt badly. That man just ran away tonight. If you want to know what happened in that private room, you can come to me. I can help you pull the surveillance footage."

She meant well. After all, the incident likely had everything to do with that man. And since he was a regular at the club, finding his identity was simple—the footage would tell all.

Seeing Xin Gan in such a state, Cheng Jiu surely wouldn't let this go. Jiang Meng felt she understood him; that was how he used to be.

Cheng Jiu replied coldly, "Thank you."

Jiang Meng: "Don't be so formal. We’ve known each other a long time. Even if we broke up, we’re still friends. If you need help, I’m always here. By the way, here’s my card. Whenever you want to pull the footage, just contact me."

Cheng Jiu frowned. "I thanked you for bringing her to the hospital, not for the footage. I will handle the footage. I’ll let the police handle it."

Jiang Meng’s face turned pale. It was utterly humiliating. In an instant, she realized she had been delusional—Cheng Jiu didn't want her help. In his eyes, her kindness was just an attempt to get closer to him. Why else would he be so guarded?

She gave a forced smile. "That works too. I thought she wouldn't call the police. If you’re calling them, then just follow the normal procedures."

Cheng Jiu said nothing more and returned to the room.

After he left, Jiang Meng clutched her chest, feeling as if she were suffocating. She felt like she couldn't go on like this. The more Cheng Jiu cared for his wife, the more painful it was for her—painful to the point of not being able to breathe.

Why had they broken up? If they hadn't, would she be the one standing by his side right now? Zhou Ya was right; she had been a fool. Only after losing him did she realize his value.

...

Xin Gan lay in the hospital bed, her lips colorless, looking fragile. Cheng Jiu stayed by her side, asking if she was uncomfortable anywhere.

She shook her head. "Don't tell Mom and Dad. I don't want them to worry."

Cheng Jiu said, "I can't promise that."

"Why?"

"I’ve already called the police." Cheng Jiu gently held her fingers, kissing them one by one. "The police will be here soon to take a statement. Xin Xin, just tell them everything you know. I’ll handle the rest."

Xin Gan had always tried to resolve her grievances with He Cheng by just letting things slide, but now she realized that solved nothing. She had to make He Cheng pay a price to end this trouble once and for all. Otherwise, she would never have a moment of peace.

Even though her wound was self-inflicted, she had indeed been abducted by him and held against her will.