I Became the Rich Second-Generation Villain - Chapter 395: Schemes in Their Hearts

After arriving in Qingling, Yun Churan, Feng Rao, and Yan Feipeng all moved into Yan Yuntian’s large estate. Though a meteor had crashed into the front courtyard, leaving a massive crater and damaging several buildings, the estate itself remained vast and spacious.

Even with the destruction, there were still many unused rooms in the front yard alone, more than enough for several dozen people to live in comfortably. The rear courtyard held even more rooms.

When Yun Churan left Lu Chen’s villa, she returned to the estate like a ghost drifting through darkness, her expression blank, her steps weightless.

She stopped in front of her room, but as she reached for the door, voices drifted from nearby.

“Wife, the bed in my room smells like mildew. Can I sleep in yours tonight?”

“This estate has so many rooms. Why don’t you just switch to another one?”

“I already did. Still smells the same. Your room doesn’t have it, does it?”

“It does.”

“Really? Then let me check—hey! Ow!”

There was a thump, followed by the sound of someone stumbling and falling to the ground. “Tch… Why’d you kick me?”

“Middle of the night and you’re making noise outside my door. Try waking me up again, and I’ll snap your neck.” A loud slam followed, the door shutting with force and finality.

A deep sigh echoed in the quiet.

Yun Churan paused outside her door, momentarily puzzled. She listened as the sounds faded, then reached for the handle again.

“You’re just getting back now?”

The question came from Yan Feipeng, not far behind.

She froze.

For a moment, her chest tightened, but she quickly forced herself to appear calm. “Something came up. Took a bit longer than expected.”

She kept her voice light, casual, unwilling to let anyone see through the layers of exhaustion wrapped around her. Especially not the truth of tonight.

“Something came up? Was it trouble? If you need help, just say the word. I can take care of it,” Yan Feipeng offered warmly, almost eagerly.

“It’s nothing, just something small,” she replied, brushing him off vaguely.

The last thing she wanted was for him to poke further and uncover what really happened. To steer the conversation away, she suddenly asked, “Uncle, you and Auntie… your relationship doesn’t seem that good. Did something happen between you two?”

Yan Feipeng’s face twitched awkwardly. Feng Rao’s room was only a few doors down, and if Yun Churan had returned just now, she most likely heard that little exchange.

“Couples fight. Happens all the time. Give it a few days, and it’ll pass.” He squeezed out a smile, but it was forced and thin.

Inside, he felt bitter.

He had not seen Feng Rao in nearly a year, and that time apart had only deepened his longing. Now that they were finally back under the same roof, he had naturally begun thinking about continuing the family line—giving Yan Yuntian a younger sibling.

But Feng Rao remained cold as ice. She would not even let him touch her finger, much less share a room. Earlier, he tried to barge in, thinking maybe he could wear her down with persistence. Instead, she kicked him so hard he nearly blacked out.

Yan Feipeng felt powerless.

Feng Rao’s strength far surpassed his. If she refused him, there was truly nothing he could do.

“If it’s just a minor quarrel, why did it escalate to physical blows?” Yun Churan asked, her tone sharp.

“Physical?” Yan Feipeng quickly denied it. “You must’ve heard wrong.” His expression was embarrassed, and he hurried to cut things off before she asked anything else. “It’s getting late. You should rest.”

Without waiting for her reply, he turned and walked off in haste.

Watching him leave, Yun Churan finally let out a quiet breath. From the looks of it, he didn’t notice anything unusual about her. That was good.

She stepped into her room and shut the door firmly behind her. Then she collapsed against it, her strength unraveling all at once.

Emotions that had been clamped down surged forth, flooding through her chest and pushing tears down her cheeks in torrents.

Her sobs came in waves, silent but overwhelming. She cried until her face was soaked, and even then she kept crying.

Eventually, she stripped off her clothes and began to bathe, over and over, as though scrubbing herself raw could somehow wash away the filth buried inside her heart. She stayed in the water long past when the heat faded.

Tonight would not bring her sleep.

Elsewhere in the estate, Yan Feipeng also tossed and turned, sleep evading him. Several times he got up, paced toward Feng Rao’s door, and then remembered the warning she gave. Her words echoed so clearly in his ears that each time, he backed off again.

And inside her room, Feng Rao too lay awake.

Because of Wang Haoran, the distance between her and Yan Yuntian had widened. And now, with Yan Yuntian unable to bear children anymore, Yan Feipeng was clearly considering passing on the family line himself.

But the truth was, Feng Rao had that idea too.

Fengxi Sect had been passed down through the bloodline for generations. She had to ensure it would not die out with her. Once, she had pinned her hopes on Yan Yuntian.

His martial talent was exceptional, and if he took her surname, he could have inherited Fengxi Sect’s legacy.

But that plan no longer worked.

Among the direct descendants of the Feng family, besides herself, there was only her younger sister, Feng Yun.

Feng Yun had a daughter with a man from the secular world. That daughter still counted as direct bloodline, but she had grown up outside the clan, and had never trained in martial arts. Whether she had any talent remained a mystery.

Feng Rao could not pin everything on that girl.

That meant the responsibility still fell to her.

If she wanted Fengxi Sect to live on, she had to take matters into her own hands.

She was thirty-six, but for someone who cultivated martial arts, that was still young. Her body remained at its peak, fully capable of bearing a child.

But the man she had in mind was not Yan Feipeng. It was someone else entirely.

Her only concern was whether that man would agree to it.

After all, he was unbelievably dense. She hinted again and again, yet he acted like a block of wood, completely oblivious.

Lying there in the dark, Feng Rao thought about how to approach it. Should she sit down and talk to him directly? Use a bit of medicine to smooth the way? Or just take control and turn the matter into reality by force?

She turned over once more beneath the blankets, her gaze sharp as ever. Somewhere out there under the same Qingling sky, Wang Haoran remained fast asleep, utterly unaware that a female supporting character whose Favorability was already maxed out was plotting how to knock him down and fuck him.

—

By the time morning arrived, Wang Haoran woke up refreshed. After enjoying a sweet breakfast with Bian Suwen at the hotel, he left for school.

“Boss, our class is playing a basketball match at noon against Finance Class 112. Want in?” Liu Hua grinned as he came over in the hallway.

“Not interested,” Wang Haoran said flatly, but then raised an eyebrow. “Who’s playing on our side?”

“Me, Lu Ming, and Wei Zhihang,” Liu Hua replied.

“Just you three? You think you can win?”

“We called in help from the campus team. No doubt we’ll crush those bastards from 112. Guaranteed win. That’s why I came to see if you wanted in, boss. If you’re playing, I’ll tell the campus team to send one less guy.”

Wang Haoran looked at Liu Hua’s confident expression and immediately sensed something was off. Basketball courts were the perfect place for a protagonist to flex and humiliate others. There was no way this was just a casual game.

Someone from Class 112 was probably the protaganist. And if Liu Hua showed up all cocky, odds were he’d get publicly shamed.

“You coming or not, boss?” Liu Hua pressed when Wang Haoran didn’t reply.

“Count me in,” Wang Haoran answered at last, voice calm.