Chapter 23: Just Have to Be Difficult

Xie Chengyu’s throat bobbed.

His body’s reaction intensified.

Even with clothes covering it, the sheer intensity of it was impossible to miss. Nan Xiao caught sight of it instantly—her face flushed crimson, her heart pounding. She yanked the blanket up over her head in one swift motion, burying herself beneath it like a shy girl hiding from the world. Her embarrassment was overwhelming, but so was the heat coiling low in her belly.

She opened her mouth to tell Xie Chengyu to leave—but stopped mid-sentence. This was *his* house. It felt too awkward, too inappropriate. Instead, she mumbled into the fabric, voice muffled: “Maybe I should just… go out for a bit. You can rest on your own.”

At this point, both adults were painfully aware of what was happening.

Something in their food—or drink—had messed with them. That was the only explanation. Their bodies were betraying them, driven by an uncontrollable urge.

But who had done it?

Xie Chengyu’s sharp brows knitted together involuntarily. “Where do you think you’re going?”

His first thought? Nan Xiao was still his wife. The way she looked right now—soft, flushed, trembling with desire—was dangerously tempting. If someone else saw her like this… it wouldn’t be right.

Nan Xiao bit her lower lip, whispering, “Then… maybe you should go to the bathroom?”

It was a delicate hint—she was suggesting he take care of himself before things got worse.

But Xie Chengyu wasn’t thinking about that.

He was thinking about something far more serious.

Who had slipped the drug into their meal or drink?

His uncles and aunts? Unlikely. They didn’t have the nerve—or the motive. So it had to be Grandfather.

He pulled out his phone and dialed the old man’s number.

The call went straight to voicemail.

*Off.*

That timing was too perfect. Too suspicious.

A dark shadow passed over Xie Chengyu’s face. His voice dropped, cold and edged with fury. “Grandfather’s got real guts.”

His eyes still burned with lust, but his tone had turned icy—sharp as a blade. He was furious at the man who’d orchestrated this, the one who’d tried to force him and Nan Xiao together.

Nan Xiao hadn’t expected anything to happen between them. But seeing his sudden shift in attitude—cold, distant, almost cruel—still stung.

Then his phone buzzed.

A text from Grandfather:
*“My good grandson… don’t hold it in. Don’t ruin your body. You know what I mean?”*

He sent a similar message to Nan Xiao—more tactful, but still loaded with implication. Her expression twisted, embarrassed and uneasy.

Just moments ago, Xie Chengyu had been close, almost tender. Now he seemed completely detached.

His body still reacted, but his gaze was hard—glacial. A dangerous man.

“I’m going to take a shower,” he said. “Be right back.”

Nan Xiao, being a woman, had already calmed down. Her pulse was normal again. He didn’t bother with her. Just walked off toward the bathroom.

The sound of rushing water filled the silence.

Nan Xiao stared up at the black ceiling, dazed.

He’d been suffering—so much—and yet he hadn’t touched her. Was it because he hated her looks? Or was he still holding onto some ghost—some promise to Xu Ruoxin?

Inside the shower, under the spray of icy water, Xie Chengyu stood motionless, letting the cold wash over his burning skin.

But his mind wasn’t on the water.

It was on memories.

As a child, his father used to bring women home—different ones, every time. Bodies tangled in sheets, slick and glistening, their moans echoing through the halls. Sometimes, he’d walk out of his room unaware, stumbling into scenes he wasn’t meant to see.

Then the image shifted.

To a few weeks ago—accidentally walking in on Nan Xiao, freshly out of the shower, bare and wet, standing in the hallway.

That moment had been brief—but unforgettable.

He remembered lying on the cold floor, eyes shut tight, feeling her small, warm hands press against his chest—light, teasing, sending sparks through his veins.

Almost instantly, the heat in his stomach flared again.

The faint scent of her—sweet, feminine—seemed to drift back into the air.

Xie Chengyu’s handsome features darkened.

He told himself there was no point fighting himself.

He lifted his long fingers, turned the faucet, and let the cold water warm slowly.

By the time it reached lukewarm, his hand had already moved downward.

That night passed without incident.

But when morning came, something had changed.

They both felt it.

Last night, Xie Chengyu had stayed in the shower for nearly an hour. Nan Xiao grew worried. She crept to the door, pressed her ear against it—and heard soft, uneven breathing.

Then silence.

A pause.

Like he’d realized she was there.

She jerked back, scrambled into bed, heart racing.

Once intimacy crosses the line, there’s no going back.

Still, the next morning, they managed to keep up appearances. They drove back to the main estate in silence.

And then—Nan Xiao watched as Xie Chengyu stormed into Grandfather’s study, slammed the door behind him with a thunderous *bang.*

She didn’t know what happened inside.

At first, it was quiet.

Then—suddenly—a roar split the air:

**“Get out! Get out of my life! You’re not my son! The Xie family doesn’t have a son like you!”**

A crash followed—something heavy hitting the wall.

Then the door flew open.

Xie Chengyu stepped out, forehead bleeding, a thin line of red cutting across his skin. He looked terrifying.

He approached Nan Xiao, his expression stormy.

“No more waiting,” he said flatly. “We’re divorcing now. I’ll have Zhou Wen file the papers again immediately.”

He’d taken over Xie Corp after graduation. Over the years, his influence in North City had grown stronger than Grandfather’s.

He’d only agreed to wait a month out of respect—for the old man’s feelings.

But now? No reason to hold back.

He spoke coldly, didn’t notice how pale Nan Xiao suddenly became.

Then he turned and walked away.

Grandfather limped out, leaning heavily on his cane, shouting after him:

“You *have* to disobey me, don’t you? What’s so special about that actress? Even if she gives birth to a child, I won’t recognize it! Our bloodline will never come from a woman like her!”

Xie Chengyu’s entire presence shifted—dark, lethal.

His eyes glinted with something cold and ancient.

“My child comes from wherever I choose. That’s not your business. Stay out of it.”

“And who I sleep with? That’s none of your concern. You can’t control it.”

“What are you saying? You really want to stay with that actress?”

“Don’t keep calling her a ‘courtesan.’ She’s an *actress*. Not the same thing. If you don’t know, Google it. Old people should use their brains—otherwise, they’ll go senile.”

“You—you monster—”

Grandfather raised his cane and swung.

The wooden stick cracked against flesh. One blow after another. Each impact echoed through the hall, making the servants flinch.

The maids turned white with fear.

But Xie Chengyu stood still, fists clenched, refusing to flinch—even to lower his head.

When Grandfather finally tired, exhausted and breathless, Xie Chengyu’s face was pale.

Sweat beaded on his forehead. Blood seeped through the back of his shirt.

Zhang Sǎo burst into tears, rushing forward.

“Master! Why are you doing this? Madam is such a good woman! Why fight with Grandfather? Look at you—hurt like this! Let me get you medicine—”

Her voice trembled.

But Xie Chengyu didn’t answer.

He just stood there—silent, scarred, and utterly unbroken.