Chapter Eighteen: If I Want to Hit You, I Hit You

Noticing the strange look in Fang Yun’s eyes, Ma Zhen recalled Li Wangcheng’s unusual attitude toward her. Jealousy flared within her, and she hurried forward, raising her hand to slap Fang Yun’s face.

Shang Xingbing gasped inwardly, stepped forward, and grabbed her wrist.

“Smack!” A sharp slap rang out, stunning everyone around.

Ji Qingwan, who was hiding nearby, watched as Fang Yun delivered a fierce slap to Ma Zhen’s face and couldn’t help but recall the day she divorced Chen Yuanlin. The same kind of slap had struck her face, causing pain on both sides that lasted the entire day—an impression still vivid in her memory.

Ma Zhen was stunned by the slap. After all her life, she had never been hit before, not even when her father’s favored mistress danced in front of her. No one dared lay a hand on her like this.

But today, not only had she failed to strike Fang Yun, she had been slapped by her in broad daylight—a humiliating disgrace.

“Ah! You shameless bitch! How dare you hit me!” Ma Zhen screamed in fury, struggling to break free from Shang Xingbing’s hold.

Startled by her sudden outburst, Shang Xingbing feared she might go mad and harm Fang Yun, so he tightened his grip.

Frustrated by her inability to break free, Ma Zhen screamed for her followers to seize Fang Yun.

Her own men, naturally obedient, surged forward to grab Fang Yun.

Shang Xingbing was forced to release Ma Zhen and protect Fang Yun, engaging in a scuffle with the four men Ma Zhen had brought.

Fortunately, the number was small and their skills mediocre, so he managed to handle them with relative ease.

Ma Zhen, now free, stepped back and rubbed her wrist, which was already reddened from Shang Xingbing’s firm grip.

The pain in her wrist and face flushed her entire face with rage, her eyes dark and venomous as they fixed on them.

Fang Yun, shielded by Shang Xingbing, remained untouched by the four men, who were clearly being subdued.

She signaled to Shang Xingbing and slipped around the side, heading straight toward where Ma Zhen stood.

A bewildered Ma Zhen hadn’t yet grasped Fang Yun’s intent until she realized Fang Yun was coming for her, and panic flashed across her face.

“You…” she began, about to hurl a fierce insult, but Fang Yun had already closed the distance in a few strides and delivered another sharp slap.

“Smack!”

“If I’m going to hit you, do I have to wait for a lucky day?” Fang Yun’s voice came through clenched teeth, right by Ma Zhen’s ear.

Ma Zhen turned her head and glared fiercely, about to retort, but Fang Yun left her no chance.

She grabbed Ma Zhen’s hair and yanked it backward. A sharp cry of pain silenced those nearby.

Shang Xingbing and the others turned toward the sound to see Fang Yun pulling Ma Zhen’s hair and slapping her face repeatedly.

Ma Zhen flailed her arms, trying to fight back, but Fang Yun remained unmoved.

Perhaps finding Ma Zhen’s struggles too bothersome, Fang Yun struck a few more times, then gave her hair a hard flick. Caught off guard, Ma Zhen was thrown to the ground.

Before she could recover, Fang Yun straddled her, pinning her upper body down. Her hands alternated between scratching and slapping Ma Zhen’s face, interspersed with punches to her chest and stomach.

Ma Zhen’s screams never ceased, sharp and piercing, causing earaches just from hearing them. One could tell from the sound how merciless Fang Yun’s blows were.

Had Fang Yun held back, Ma Zhen’s screams would have surely been accompanied by a string of curses and insults.

Seeing Ma Zhen battered so badly, Shang Xingbing felt uneasy and hurried forward to separate them.

“Sister, sister, enough already,” he said softly, pulling Fang Yun’s arm and prying her off Ma Zhen while soothing her quietly.

Fang Yun, gasping for breath, gradually regained clarity after being pulled away. The hatred that had clouded her reason began to subside.

She looked up to see Ma Zhen, once impeccably dressed, now sporting a nest-like tangle of hair, cheeks swollen and scratched, her white mink coat stained with snow and mud—ruined beyond repair.

Beaten so harshly, Ma Zhen was unable to rise, lying on the ground like a broken dog, sobbing softly.

Fang Yun felt a surge of satisfaction. Steadying herself, she signaled Shang Xingbing to release her and tidied her disheveled hair.

Ma Zhen’s men rushed over in panic, helping her to her feet.

“Fang Yun! Just you wait!” Ma Zhen spat venomously.

Humiliated and defeated, she had no desire to stay and salvage her dignity. After uttering her threat, she was swiftly escorted away by her men.

Once they had gone, the crowd of onlookers gradually dispersed.

Fang Yun’s face remained cold as she endured the myriad gazes, completely indifferent.

She had merely taken advantage of the moment to teach Ma Zhen a lesson—a mere repayment compared to the humiliation she had endured in the past life.

Had there not been so many witnesses, and if the timing had been better, she would have made sure Ma Zhen never saw another sunrise.

Looking up, snowflakes began to drift down again, landing on her reddened nose and slowly melting.

Ji Qingwan, having watched the spectacle, followed Ma Zhen’s retreating figure with her eyes until she disappeared around the corner.

“Miss?” someone nearby signaled that Fang Yun and her group were about to leave.

Ji Qingwan withdrew her gaze and noticed a man accompanying Fang Yun. The anger she had felt earlier had lessened somewhat.

More than Fang Yun herself, it was the man by her side who made Ji Qingwan wary.

She had witnessed him sparring with Ma Zhen’s men and had not missed a detail.

She knew well the strength of her own subordinates.

The few men Ma Zhen brought were no match for this man. If anyone unaware of his skill had provoked him, their fate would be no better than Ma Zhen’s.

Ji Qingwan had firsthand experience of Fang Yun’s ruthlessness—and her grudges ran even deeper than Ma Zhen’s.

Still, Fang Yun’s actions today had thoroughly offended Ma Zhen. The enemy of my enemy is my friend.

She and Ma Zhen shared a common enemy. Could she use this as an excuse to get closer to Ma Zhen?

These thoughts flickered through Ji Qingwan’s mind as she paid little attention to Fang Yun and her group departing.

Only when the crowd thinned did she finally look away, give a few orders, and retreat to her own tent.

Upon returning to the Ji family’s territory, someone informed her that Chen Yuanlin had arrived and was waiting inside her tent.

Ji Qingwan’s face darkened instantly. Part of her wariness of Fang Yun stemmed from her association with Li Wangcheng, but Chen Yuanlin? She was not afraid of him.

Though her anger had subsided moments before, it suddenly flared anew—stronger than before—with only one desire: to kill Chen Yuanlin.

Yet, when she stormed into the tent and saw Chen Yuanlin, the burning hatred that had driven her to want him dead inexplicably faded away.