Chapter 133: He Is So Jealous

Eurasian Trading, Office of the Chief Executive Officer.

“Tell me why.” Mai Xijun was weak, her voice a low, hoarse growl. Shen Yanlie, seated behind his desk, remained unmoved.

He had known she would come to him. He had known she did not believe him. He had known…

“What are you referring to?” Shen Yanlie did not answer her directly. Like her, he spoke in riddles.

“You don’t know what I mean? Who could know better than you?”

How ironic. In the end, he had hurt himself all over again, just as Yuwen Si had once warned her: Girl, you need a heart as tough as a Nokia—one that can be dropped countless times and still crack walnuts. Then see which bastard is capable of hurting you.

Mai Xijun wanted to laugh, but tears seemed to have dried up, and no sound came from her throat.

“If you’re talking about Han Xinyao, all I can say is that I’ve already been more than generous. My woman is someone I can’t bear to scold or touch, so how could I possibly let her slap you merely because she lifted a finger?” Allowing her to remain alive was already the greatest mercy he could offer.

“You know I’m talking about Mo Shaoxing.” Mai Xijun’s voice was hoarse, her face deathly pale and her eyes bloodshot. Yet she did not know that while she was suffering, he was no better off. Her pain only made his own agony more acute.

“You mean to say that I was the one who dealt with him.” This time, Shen Yanlie spoke plainly. He had avoided saying it before because he had still held on to a sliver of hope—a hope that she would never think so poorly of him, a hope that she would believe him without question.

“Oh? Are you going to say you weren’t?” Mai Xijun raised her brows as she looked at Shen Yanlie, who remained infuriatingly at ease. A darkness she could not put into words rose silently within her heart.

Yes. He had always been like this—unhurried, commanding without ever needing to raise his voice. Every word, every movement, every gesture of his seemed unfathomable and extraordinary. The bewitching air surrounding him had once drawn her in so deeply that, in her world, it had seemed entirely possible for the earth itself to revolve around him.

Only now did she realize that he had never changed. He would always be the favored son of Heaven. The rumors of his ruthlessness, his lack of feeling, his heart of steel—none of them contradicted the man she knew.

If his tenderness was merely an illusion, then her world would become barren in an instant. After all, she had once believed in him so completely.

“I, Shen Yanlie, take responsibility for what I do. The methods I used in the past may not have been honorable, but if I did something, I will admit it. If I didn’t, I certainly won’t curry favor with anyone by taking the blame upon myself.”

A trace of anger entered Shen Yanlie’s voice. Did she really think he would be pleased if he admitted to causing Mo Shaoxing’s death? How absurd. He admitted that his methods could be ruthless, and anyone who provoked him would meet an unpleasant end. He always repaid others in kind. But how could he confess to something he had not done?

And now he was facing the woman he loved more deeply than anyone. He felt that he could no longer make himself understood, not when she refused to believe him.

He had thought she believed him. He had thought that after all this time, she understood him. But he had been wrong. Again and again, she had suspected him, questioning him repeatedly because of a man who had once betrayed him.

“Is that so? Then tell me—where did you send Han Xinyao? And tell me what you did to Mo Shaoxing before he left.” Mai Xijun clenched her teeth, forcing out each word through the narrow space between them.

If Han Xinyao were here, she could surely force the truth out of her. But Han Xinyao was gone, and Mai Xijun could not find her. She was helpless. She had no idea what to do.

That day, before Han Xinyao entered the room, she had first glared viciously at Shen Yanlie. Then she had rushed to Mai Xijun’s desk and slapped her. Mai Xijun could understand that slap. Han Xinyao hated her. She despised her. Han Xinyao was innocent and straightforward, almost childlike. She had loved Mo Shaoxing with absolute devotion, and even after his death, she was willing to risk her life to avenge him.

Later, the dagger Han Xinyao had held had been aimed unmistakably at Shen Yanlie, not Mai Xijun. Of that, Mai Xijun was certain.

Han Xinyao had every reason to hate her. Mo Shaoxing had once sacrificed so much for Mai Xijun, yet Mai Xijun had never accepted that devotion or understood the love behind it. But that alone was not enough to make Han Xinyao try to stab her. Han Xinyao was lively and cheerful, but she was not unreasonable or foolish. Love might have blinded her, but it was not enough to drive her to harm someone—especially when Mai Xijun had once been the person Mo Shaoxing had loved and longed for most deeply.

There was only one possibility left: this matter was somehow entangled with Shen Yanlie.

At the most crucial moment, she had still chosen not to believe him. There were many reasons, yet they were simple enough. He had never once offered her an explanation. Perhaps if he had said even a single word—perhaps even if it had not been the truth—she would still have been willing to believe him foolishly and innocently.

After all, she had once given him her heart. In all her life, she had had no one to depend on and nowhere to turn. He had given her something to long for, a shoulder to lean on, and a sky beneath which she could come and go freely. He had indulged her beyond measure, and she had loved him so deeply that love had brought her anxiety, and love had brought her fear. If she could have chosen not to love him, she would never have cared about the answer.

“Very well. Since you’re so desperate to know the truth, then let me tell you…”

Shen Yanlie’s expression was dark, unlike Yuwen Si, who was always smiling.

Perhaps in everyone’s eyes, Shen Yanlie had always seemed cold and merciless, while Yuwen Si appeared approachable and easygoing. But that was not the truth. Those who truly knew them understood that Yuwen Si was fond of scheming and was narrow-minded to the point of pettiness. Shen Yanlie was different. As long as no one angered him or touched his wounds, anyone could live safely by his side for years without encountering the slightest trouble.

But if anyone dared to challenge him, he could seize control of them and toy with them effortlessly. That was where Shen Yanlie’s methods were most brilliant—and most vicious.

Now, the corners of his lips curved upward in a beautiful arc. His striking phoenix eyes narrowed lazily, while his raised brows made him appear radiant, arrogant, and wickedly seductive.

Mai Xijun was afraid of him. She had been afraid of him from the very beginning. But she had told herself that if she wanted to understand him, she had to learn not to fear him. She had to begin by facing him calmly.

Mai Xijun knew that Shen Yanlie was a lion pretending to sleep. Once his instinct to retaliate was awakened, he became a time bomb with devastating power. Provoking him usually led to only one outcome: a dead end. It seemed that even she was no exception.

Time and again, she had challenged his limits, angering him without knowing when to stop. He had always spared her because she had once saved him. Yet what he had never expected was that, in the end, he would give her even more opportunities—and reasons—to provoke him, before delivering the final, fatal blow.

He walked toward her with calm, elegant steps, slowly and steadily, just as he had that night in Venice—with danger, challenge, and bloodshed surrounding him, each step fraught with peril.

Mai Xijun wanted to retreat, but she kept telling herself that she could not. She had to endure.

Very good. She was doing very well indeed.

His fists tightened. He ground his back teeth together, then stopped directly in front of her. He was a full eight inches taller, and as he looked down at her, her small, palm-sized face filled his vision. Its delicate, unmistakable contours fascinated and haunted him. Yet despite his infatuation, he still had to stand against her.

Time seemed to freeze at that instant. The temperature around them plunged. Shen Yanlie loosened his clenched fists, then tightened them again. He released them, then clenched them once more.

She stared fearlessly into his eyes, just as she had when she had once tried to push him away—with that same ruthless determination. The force of it could have annihilated him completely.

Shen Yanlie raised a hand and seized Mai Xijun’s chin. The coldness in his eyes had faded.

“You really don’t believe me?” he asked. “He was Little Stone—the Little Stone who once helped you when you were in need. How could I possibly hurt him?”

His tone softened at once. Only moments earlier, he had wanted to tighten his grip on her chin and make her feel pain, yet he could not bring himself to use that much force. Nor could he utter such cruel words.

He knew pain more intimately than she did. Her life without a father’s or mother’s love, without either of them by her side, was cruel—but his own childhood had been even more so. His mother had been right there before his eyes, yet she had never loved him. When he had been young and ignorant, she had not shown him the slightest compassion. When he was sad or suffering, she had never gathered him tightly into her arms.

He had witnessed too much hypocrisy and experienced the warmth and coldness, the kindness and cruelty, of the human world. From childhood, he had known that he had to be better than everyone else, because too many burdens rested upon his shoulders. He could never live as lightly as other people did. The life she had endured was one he had once borne twice over, ten times over, perhaps even a hundred times over.

He truly envied Mo Shaoxing.

He envied the fact that Mo Shaoxing had met his Little Wheat before he did. He envied the years Mo Shaoxing had spent at her side, the way he had been able to reach out a hand when she was vulnerable and helpless, the way he had been able to tell her jokes when she was sad.

He envied him… He truly did.

If he could have chosen, he would have wanted to remain by her side from the very beginning. Whenever she was sad and helpless, he would have gripped her shoulders, straightened her back, and raised her chin. He wished he could have taken her with him when he was in his teens. He wished that when he had first met her that year, he had taken her away without hesitation, so that she would never again have suffered the slightest harm.

How deeply he envied Mo Shaoxing for being beside her when she was young and inexperienced, for accompanying her through those years. Regardless of the fact that Mo Shaoxing had once stood by Shen Yanlie’s side for years, regardless of the fact that he had once been his Little Wheat’s Little Stone, Shen Yanlie could never treat him that way.

He was not truly cold-blooded and heartless. Even though Mo Shaoxing had betrayed him, he still could not bring himself to do that to him…

The Dangerous Chief Executive: Woman, You Are Under Arrest, Chapter 133—He Was So Jealous. End of Chapter 133.