Shen Yifeng felt an unusual sense of unease, something rare for him.
He could explain it to himself—it wasn’t about worrying what Gu Zhaoping might do, but rather a sensitivity to potential new troubles.
He couldn’t predict when Gu Zhaoping would next bring him trouble.
Since she had stopped harassing him in her usual ways, there was a chance she might resort to some other erratic behavior. After all, old habits die hard—a person’s nature isn’t easily changed, and obsessions aren’t so easily abandoned.
Though emotionally detached, Shen Yifeng was well aware that he was, to some extent, Gu Zhaoping’s obsession.
They had grown up as childhood friends, with Shen Yifeng being a year older. They used to see each other often as children, but later, when he attended a private boarding school in North America, they were separated for a long time. Only occasionally, when she traveled for shopping or leisure, would the Gu family elders ask him to look after her.
Shen Yifeng’s version of “looking after” amounted to booking her flights, checking her itinerary, transferring her some pocket money, and reminding her not to wander off without her bodyguards or visit any illegal establishments.
Later, when Gu Zhaoping also went to study for her undergraduate degree there, their contact increased slightly.
But they were in different states, and whenever there was a break, Gu Zhaoping would either rush back home or spend her time clubbing and drinking. Their social circles had no overlap whatsoever, let alone any meaningful conversation—especially since Shen Yifeng was deeply focused on his studies.
Still, Shen Yifeng could sense Gu Zhaoping’s enthusiasm toward him.
She had even asked him academic questions once.
At the time, his heart had skipped a beat—this was bad. If Gu Zhaoping was bothering to ask about academics instead of just indulging in fun, she likely had feelings for him.
In the end, he had only replied, “…It’s fine. Just enjoy yourself. That’s good.”
Now, staring at the Excel files on his WeChat interface, Shen Yifeng couldn’t quite pinpoint what he was thinking.
The last time he had rejected one of Gu Zhaoping’s requests, she had made a grand declaration—something along the lines of swearing she would never bother him again, admitting defeat, and so on.
After that, she had thrown herself into a hedonistic lifestyle, flaunting male escorts on her social media, posting videos of herself partying with one on each arm, flooding her moments with such content. Occasionally, he’d even see the club’s manager proudly announcing Gu Zhaoping as the month’s top spender.
Shen Yifeng didn’t pay much attention to it, though. Before long, he stopped noticing altogether, finding her behavior more amusing than anything.
Once, Gu Zhaoping had sent him a video—only to withdraw it after the two-minute limit. It showed a male escort in a low-cut black mesh shirt, dancing with a silk blindfold over his eyes, flashing a neat row of teeth as he swayed like a serpent.
Gu Zhaoping had waited exactly two minutes before recalling the message, adding: Oops, wrong chat!
Along with a childish sticker.
Shen Yifeng had glanced at it but didn’t reply.
Some intentions were all too obvious. If she insisted on playing these games, he found it exhausting. Marriage was just marriage—he had no interest in emotional tug-of-war, at least not with Gu Zhaoping.
After that, she never “mistakenly” sent him anything again.
Now, Shen Yifeng waited patiently for Gu Zhaoping’s next message, certain she would say something else soon. He wanted to confirm his judgment based on her next words.
Though he had repeatedly tried to distance himself from her, at this point, he still felt obliged to offer some guidance.
After all, he was her fiancé—it was his responsibility to rein in her excesses. He couldn’t just watch her spiral into absurdity.
…And yet.
Nothing.
Not a single message.
After signing a few documents, Shen Yifeng frowned, unaware of how often his gaze drifted back to his phone. The screen remained unchanged.
Was she giving him the silent treatment now?
He wondered how long Gu Zhaoping could keep up the act, but his fingers moved on their own, opening her social media feed.
The male escort videos he expected to see were gone. Instead, there was a simple text post:
Looking for a nutritionist and a Brazilian jiu-jitsu private coach. Contact me if you have recommendations.
Cold, detached, nothing more.
He frowned, even refreshing the page a few times in disbelief.
Shen Yifeng’s usually composed expression flickered with something unreadable.
…A nutritionist?
…Jiu-jitsu?
What was Gu Zhaoping up to? Trying to reinvent herself so he’d regret everything?
A faint sense of absurdity rose in him.
Did she even have the discipline for this?
Fine. He’d see how long she lasted.
Gu Zhaoping was preparing to take over the family business.
To be a competent leader, one needed a sharp mind—and a strong body.
She had woken up early to inspect the gym, drafting an order for the housekeeper to procure equipment and rearranging the layout of her home—shrinking the guest area to expand her workspace.
The interior design needed an overhaul too.
She preferred minimalism—what some called wabi-sabi, though she wouldn’t mind a more generic, hotel-like aesthetic either.
A simple, sterile, businesslike environment reduced visual clutter, helping her mind stay relaxed and lowering cortisol levels.
A touch of nature—plants, raw stone, wood—could boost serotonin and improve mood.
This had always been her design philosophy. Currently, the eldest daughter’s room in the Gu family mansion was drowning in reds, pinks, and ornate luxury—maximalist to the point of inducing restlessness.
Until she was strong enough, staying in the ancestral home was necessary. It was closest to the seat of power, allowing her to engage with the Gu family’s inner circle swiftly.
Gu Zhaoping had the housekeeper clear out a guest room for renovation while her phone buzzed with a flood of messages.
“Zhaoping-jie, you’re taking up jiu-jitsu?”
The tone was incredulous. Gu Zhaoping simply replied, “Got any leads?”
“No, just… shocked. You’ve always been so afraid of scars. Jiu-jitsu can be rough, and jie, your legs are so perfectly shaped—are you really okay with them getting muscular?”
Gu Zhaoping paused at this, glancing down at her legs.
During her morning run, she’d realized this body’s stamina was lacking—not severely, given the family’s dedicated health management. Gu Zhaoping wasn’t malnourished, and her muscles had good potential.
But she had prioritized maintaining a certain silhouette, squeezing into shapewear to exaggerate the contrast between her bust, waist, and hips.
Checking the fridge in her room, she found a sticky note with a reminder: Stay disciplined if you want to match him. [You can do it!]
Gu Zhaoping peeled it off, finding another line scribbled on the back: For him, you must be stricter with yourself.
She deduced that “him” referred to her fiancé. She must have loved him deeply—enough to feel insecure.
No one knew Gu Zhaoping’s strict diet and shapewear were for Shen Yifeng. Everyone assumed she was just fashion-obsessed, holding herself to impossible standards.
That note was like a poorly kept secret—one the old Gu Zhaoping had desperately tried to hide.
That was the unease born from love, and the tangled pride within it, of a haughty young heirloom.
So Gu Zhaoping had an abundance of skincare products—various skin-repairing, brightening, smoothing, moisturizing creams, all sorts of beauty devices—keeping her complexion glowing with a soft radiance. The exfoliating products alone filled an entire cabinet with bottles and jars.
Not that there was any judgment toward Miss Gu’s original lifestyle, but Gu Zhaoping had no intention of continuing it.
Gu Zhaoping asked the other person: "What if I slipped and fell in the bathroom right now?"
The other person was taken aback, not understanding how the topic had jumped so abruptly. She instinctively pictured Gu Zhaoping’s usual demeanor and replied, "Uh… use it as an excuse to call Shen Yifeng over to princess-carry you back to bed? Then, you know, get all seductive, let him taste the sweetness and never want to leave you…"
"No," Gu Zhaoping said. "I’d stand up on my own two legs."
The other person was stunned.
Fortunately, the title of Young Miss of the Gu Family still carried weight. She posted a recruitment notice in her social circle, and soon, someone recommended a reliable personal trainer.
Gu Zhaoping checked her schedule and arranged a session to assess her current capabilities before deciding how many weekly sessions she’d need. The techniques were still familiar to her, but her untrained body might not fully execute them yet.
Regretfully, Gu Zhaoping walked into the gym, glancing at the still-modest equipment, when suddenly, she spotted something familiar.
She picked up the boxing gloves from the floor, strapped them on, and threw a punch at the standing sandbag.
The sandbag dented and swayed.
No matter. This place would soon become her perfect gym, an endorphin-releasing paradise.
When Father Gu and Ms. Hua returned home, they were startled by the array of unpacked equipment scattered across the floor, wondering what grand scheme was underway this time.
Ms. Hua, draped in a shimmering short jacket, the massive imperial-green diamond on her hand glinting, set down her delicate purse with her refined fingers and asked the workers methodically assembling the equipment, "What’s going on here? Who’s behind this?"
The butler quickly explained, "It’s the young miss. She’s renovating the gym."
Gu Zhaoping was always acting on whims, so Ms. Hua wasn’t too surprised, though she exchanged a glance with her husband. Their concern was whether Gu Zhaoping was making another dramatic move—was she in a bad mood again?
Was she upset because she’d hit a snag visiting the old master today?
They didn’t yet know how the visit had gone, and their hearts sank at the thought.
Ms. Hua gave Father Gu a look, signaling him to call the old master and smooth things over if possible, while she went upstairs to check on Gu Zhaoping.
Father Gu could only nod with a pained expression.
As he carefully dialed the number, Ms. Hua cautiously made her way upstairs.
"Zhaoping, Zhaoping, where are you?" She stared down the empty hallway, then turned a corner and gasped.
The floor was piled with freshly unpacked, dark gym equipment, foam packaging, and even furniture that had been dragged out!
Ms. Hua clutched her chest. This child—whenever she was upset, she’d start tearing things apart. Was she trying to demolish the house?
Thinking back to the gossip she’d heard during her mahjong game today, Ms. Hua felt a pang of discomfort.
Those society ladies had said Gu Zhaoping was famous now—everyone knew she’d tried to break up her younger brother and his girlfriend, even barging into their date to confront them. Gu Zhaoye, the domineering CEO, had stood up for his beloved, fiercely defending her against his sister—so manly, so protective. Ruan Nian was so lucky to have found the right man.
The most detestable thing in any relationship was a sharp-tongued, meddling sister-in-law, and Gu Zhaoping had become the worst kind. Her online reputation was in tatters.
Ruan Nian, with her disheveled hair, looked so pitiful. Gu Zhaoye, defending her, was so magnetic. And Gu Zhaoping, going alone to catch them in the act, was just delusional.
She’d even dared to lay hands on them! If not for her status as his sister, without the Gu family name shielding her, Gu Zhaoye might’ve beaten her beyond recognition. And yet, she’d still dared to fight back!
Once that reality show Seasons of the Elite aired, the Gu family’s drama would be the talk of the town.
Ms. Hua hadn’t even wanted to play mahjong anymore, but she’d forced herself to keep a straight face and endure it until now.
Now, recalling how Gu Zhaoping had insisted on visiting the old master today—and possibly getting an earful from him—her anger flared again.
Seeing those massive, dark pieces of equipment, she fumed, "Tearing things apart, making a mess—do you even have the discipline to stick with it? Or are you just throwing a tantrum?"
"Huh? Gu Zhaoping, did you hear me? I said if you can’t handle the consequences, don’t stir up trouble—"
Ms. Hua stepped into the gym, ready to grab Gu Zhaoping, when suddenly—
BANG!
A heavy thud echoed.
Directly in front of her.
Gu Zhaoping’s fist halted mid-air. The standing sandbag, overwhelmed by the precision and force of the strike, toppled over. Sweat dripped from Gu Zhaoping’s forehead as she relaxed from her fighting stance.
She glanced sideways at Ms. Hua, then used her teeth to tear open the Velcro strap, removing the gloves before tossing them aside. She picked up a water bottle and drank deeply.
After gulping it down, her throat bobbed. Only then did she bother to respond.
"What? What did you say just now?" Her voice was still hoarse.
Ms. Hua realized her back was drenched in cold sweat.
