I Became the Rich Second-Generation Villain - Chapter 323: The Lunatic

Chapter 323: The Lunatic
“What? Xiao Heng barged into the women’s bathhouse and caused trouble?”
Wang Haoran was lost in thought when Fang Xuan suddenly gasped after answering her phone. Her eyes went wide as she listened to the frantic voice on the other end.
“Alright, alright—I’ll be right there!” she said hurriedly, hanging up and fumbling for her clothes in panic.
Wang Haoran caught most of the conversation. Far from surprised, he merely curved his lips into a faint smile, though his tone remained solemn. “I’ll come with you.”
“Alright.” She nodded quickly.
The two of them left together, heading straight for the bathhouse in the neighborhood compound.
As soon as they arrived, they were surrounded by furious voices.
“Xiao Xuan, your little brother’s gone too far! I’m in my forties, and he shoved a few hundred yuan into my hand, telling me to come home with him. What kind of beast does that?”
“I’m over fifty, practically a grandmother! And that brat tried to take advantage of me in the women’s bathhouse! If people find out, how can I face anyone again?”
“Who would’ve thought? That Fang Heng always looked like such a decent young man—turns out he’s this kind of pervert!”
Fang Xuan’s face went pale as she hurriedly apologized to each of them in turn. “I’m so sorry, I truly am. Please forgive him.”
Only after calming the crowd did she manage to ask where Fang Heng was. The old ladies stepped aside, revealing him sprawled unconscious on the wet tiles, one cheek swollen grotesquely.
After some questioning, she learned what had happened—he was knocked out cold by a burly auntie’s single slap. Half his face was red and puffy, the imprint of fingers still visible.
Fang Xuan had no words, no anger left. The women here all lived in this old community—they knew Fang Heng. Otherwise, it wouldn’t have ended with a single slap; the police would’ve been called by now.
She quickly called for an ambulance. Within minutes, medics arrived and carried Fang Heng away.
Wang Haoran drove Fang Xuan in the Lamborghini, following the ambulance straight to the hospital.
Half an hour later, Fang Heng stirred awake, blinking blearily at the ceiling. “Why am I here?”
“Still have the nerve to ask? Do you even remember what you did?” Fang Xuan snapped and smacked the back of his head.
“Ow! What was that for?” he complained. “I just went to the antique market. I didn’t do anything wrong!”
“The antique market?” she barked. “You went to the women’s bathhouse, not the antique market!”
“Sister, what are you talking about? I was at the antique market. I even found a valuable piece, but the seller backed out after I named my price! Can you believe that?” He slammed his thigh in frustration, completely oblivious.
Fang Xuan’s patience snapped. “You still won’t admit it?” She whipped out her phone and shoved it at him. “Look at this video. See for yourself.”
Fang Heng frowned and took the phone. On the screen, a lecherous man was chasing after screaming aunties in the women’s bathhouse. At first, the video was shaky and distant, the man’s face unclear—but as he turned toward the camera, his features came into full view.
He froze. “That—that’s me?”
“Finally recognized yourself?” Fang Xuan’s voice trembled with fury. She rapped him on the head again. “Auntie Liu sent me that. If I hadn’t seen it with my own eyes, I never would’ve believed you capable of such a disgusting stunt! You’ve humiliated our whole family! When Mom and Dad come back, they’ll beat you within an inch of your life.”
Fang Heng’s eyes went wide, filled with disbelief. “I swear I went to the antique market! How could I have ended up there?”
“You tell me! Who should I ask?” she retorted.
Just then, the door opened and a doctor stepped in, holding a clipboard. “Who’s the family member?”
“I am,” Fang Xuan said quickly. “Doctor, is my brother alright?”
The man nodded gravely. “Physically, he’s fine. But mentally…” He hesitated, glancing between them. “Based on your account and our preliminary tests, he appears to be suffering from a rare psychological disorder.”
“What nonsense!” Fang Heng blurted out, incredulous. “I’m not crazy!”
The doctor ignored him and turned to Fang Xuan. “Does he display any… unusual behavior in daily life?”
Fang Xuan thought for a moment, then said slowly, “He barely studied in school, not exactly bright. Read a few books about antiques and suddenly claims he can identify them. He insists everything he picks up is worth hundreds of thousands or even millions. Would that count as abnormal?”
“That would indeed qualify,” the doctor replied.
“Sister, I really can identify antiques!” Fang Heng shouted, desperate.
“See? He’s having another episode,” Wang Haoran said casually, his tone as smooth as silk.
Fang Heng’s head suddenly spun, his vision splitting in two. For a few seconds, the faces before him overlapped—his sister’s features flickering and twisting until Wang Haoran’s cold smile seemed to replace them.
He blinked hard, but the world kept tilting. Then he raised a shaking finger and roared, “Wang Haoran, shut your mouth! You cheated me out of more than ten billion in antiques—I haven’t even settled that debt with you yet!”
Fang Xuan stiffened, frowning in bewilderment. “Why are you pointing at me? I’m your sister.”
But Fang Heng’s gaze remained wild and unfocused. “Don’t lie to me! You think I can’t see you, Wang Haoran? Pay me back, or I’ll go to the police!”
Fang Xuan’s face drained of color, words failing her.
The doctor exhaled heavily. “The condition seems more severe than I first thought. I recommend transferring him to a psychiatric hospital for specialized care.”
Fang Xuan nodded, her heart heavy. “Alright. Whatever’s best for him.”
With Wang Haoran’s connections, arrangements were made swiftly. Within a few hours, Fang Heng had been sedated, loaded into an ambulance, and transferred to one of the best mental health institutions in the city.
He fought and shouted all the way, refusing to go, but a tranquilizer shot put him under before he could take a single step.
When everything was done, Fang Xuan felt utterly drained.
“It’s alright,” Wang Haoran said softly. “Your brother will recover. Don’t worry.”
He knew the dosage he arranged—heavy enough to dull Fang Heng’s mind for years. Three to five, at least. By the time the fog cleared, it would be far too late for him to fight back.
Fang Xuan’s gaze softened. “If it weren’t for you, I wouldn’t have known what to do. Thank you… truly.”
Wang Haoran smiled faintly, then leaned back, his voice low. “Still, him barging into the women’s bathhouse… that’s going to stain your family’s reputation. If you keep living there, people will talk. You’ll be the gossip of the neighborhood.”
He paused, watching her expression carefully before adding, “You should move. Don’t worry about the house—I’ll handle everything.
Read this chapter on CrimsonScrolls.net · Support the Translator · © 2026 CrimsonScrolls.net
Read on CrimsonScrolls.net


