Chapter 3 — Contract of Possession

On the tablet screen, I zoomed in on a specific clause within the contract: [Absolute non-interference in each other’s personal lives.] I blinked slowly, looking up to ask, "Husband, does that mean I'm allowed to date a boyfriend?" The noble, icy man swept his gaze over me from head to toe—jet-black hair, pale skin, dark obsidian eyes, a floral nightgown, and cloud-shaped fuzzy slippers... from every angle, I looked thoroughly obedient and timid. Just moments ago in bed, I had been exceptionally compliant; whenever he told me to lift my chin, I lifted it, and whenever he told me to part my lips, I did just that. Fong Zha loosened the bath towel wrapped tightly around his waist and strode into the bathroom, not even bothering to close the door behind him. He turned on the shower, threw a sideways glance at me over his shoulder, and drawled, "If you have the guts, go right ahead."

As it so happened, I did indeed have the guts. Wasn't his remark a tacit admission? He merely assumed I lacked the courage to actually follow through. But an "obedient" person like me always strictly adhered to the letter of the contract. Since the matter fell well within the permitted scope of the clauses, what reason did I have to hesitate?

Before I even had the chance to actively search out a "boyfriend," one conveniently presented himself right on my doorstep. He was an exceptionally handsome young man named Fong Hang, who clearly shared some distant familial relation to Fong Zha. Our meeting was purely coincidental—my little electric scooter had bumped gently into the side of his luxury supercar. Neither of us demanded any compensation, yet somehow, I found myself lumbered with an unwanted shadow trailing my every step. Fong Hang seemed to possess an endless expanse of free time, tailing me from the moment I left for work until my shift ended, seizing every fleeting opportunity to strike up a conversation. He even went so far as to abandon his supercar in favor of an electric scooter, purely so he could ride alongside me in the designated motorcycle lanes. Compared to Fong Zha, he was infinitely more endearing and attentive. I readily accepted his very first invitation—an exclusive, private gathering. Yet the instant I looped my arm through his, stepping into the venue draped in a gorgeous evening gown, my eyes immediately locked onto a gaze colder than winter frost.

It was Fong Zha.

Only last night, he had lingered in my apartment until the deep hours of the morning, intimately entwined in a way that defied description.

"That's my cousin over there, a total block of ice who never thaws."

Fong Hang lowered his head, whispering right against my ear in a tone thick with suggestive ambiguity. I casually withdrew my gaze, lifting my chin to reward Fong Hang with a sweet, radiant smile. I appeared remarkably well-behaved—even more docile than when I was trapped under Fong Zha's scrutiny. Shortly after, I was led forward to make the rounds of introductions.

"Big cousin, this is my girlf—"

Fong Hang’s sentence was abruptly cut short by a sharp, commanding voice.

"Girlfriend?"

The man seated in the center of the sofa looked the absolute picture of a moving glacier, radiating an overwhelming, freezing aura. Those piercing, glacial eyes were now locked entirely onto me. Without the slightest pretense of politeness, his gaze raked over my body from top to bottom, tracing every line of my face and figure. The places where his eyes lingered just a beat too long—my thighs, my waist, and other more private areas hidden beneath the fabric of my dress—were precisely the spots that had borne the heated marks of his intimacy just the night before. Fong Zha’s gaze was fraught with palpable danger. Yet so what? Nothing I was doing violated our contract; in fact, it was something he had explicitly and implicitly condoned—if I had the guts, I was free to take a boyfriend. Therefore, I refused to flinch or look away, meeting his dark gaze with unyielding, direct defiance. While Fong Hang stood there awkwardly, fumbling for words to accurately define our relationship, I simply curved my lips into a sweet smile and nodded in confirmation. "That's right, his girlfriend." Between the two men bearing the family name Fong, the one standing beside me instantly lit up with unconcealed delight, while the man sitting opposite felt like he was glaring at me with the edge of a razor-sharp blade. Why was he still looking so ferocious? I shot Fong Zha a brief, provocative sideways glance before deliberately releasing my hold on Fong Hang, intertwining my fingers firmly with his instead, and turning gracefully away together. Within my field of vision, the man on the sofa finally shifted his gaze, his dark eyes freezing completely upon our tightly clasped hands.

We didn't linger long at the banquet; Fong Hang and I promptly slipped away to enjoy a private date of our own. He was enthusiastic, utterly sincere, and refreshingly open-minded. When I casually mentioned that I was already married, he merely paused in surprise for a fraction of a second before his eyes curved into crescents of laughter. "I can guarantee I'm much better than whoever your husband is." After bidding Fong Hang a pleasant farewell, I made my way up to my apartment floor. Yet before I even reached my doorway, a tall, imposing silhouette blocked my path. Fong Zha. I had grown far too familiar with this silhouette cutting through the darkness of night, given how much he adored keeping the lights turned off.

"Finally finished saying your long goodbyes to your precious boyfriend?"

The air was heavy and oppressive, his deep voice dripping with an unnatural, bitter sarcasm. I remained entirely unruffled, stepping forward with a bright, innocent smile that made my eyes curve. "Mhm, right in the nick of time." With one hand, I unlocked the door, turning my head back to look at him over my shoulder. "Husband, isn't my boyfriend your own cousin? Why are you using such a chilly, estranged tone?" Before the words had even finished fading from my lips, Fong Zha abruptly lunged forward, lifting me off my feet with a single, effortless sweep of his arm and pinning my back firmly against the door. I was thoroughly accustomed to gazing into his eyes through the thick shadows of the night—cold, stern, possessive... I had witnessed every imaginable emotion reflected in those depths. But this was the absolute first time I had ever seen him burning with such genuine fury. It was so intense that even the outer edges of his eyelashes seemed to bristle like sharp thorns, warning anyone to keep their distance. Yet deep down, a thrill of satisfaction rippled through me. He always insisted on holding absolute control over every situation, yet this raging storm was undeniably born from losing that very control.

"It appears I grossly underestimated you."

His brows were knit tightly together, the dim shadows obscuring half of his pupils and rendering his gaze infinitely sharper. While his voice remained biting and glacial, mine adopted an air of profound innocence and softness. "Whatever do you mean?" Fong Zha stared down at me fixedly, holding his punishing posture without uttering another word. Those muscular arms of his truly possessed an infuriating stamina, capable of holding me suspended like this indefinitely. But frankly, I just wanted to take a quick shower and crawl into bed! Therefore, adhering strictly to my usual routine, I looped my arms around his muscular neck and pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his lips. "Husband, I'm terribly sleepy and want to go to sleep now." A heavy, discontented scoff followed by a scorching, punishing kiss served as his immediate reply. That night, Fong Zha contented himself with merely kissing me deep into the midnight hours without crossing any further lines. However, by the time the weekend rolled around, he practically spent the entire day gripping my hand tightly, our fingers laced together so firmly as if he were terrified that releasing them even for a second would make me vanish. He had never possessed such a habit before; this sudden clinginess was undoubtedly born from his lingering paranoia regarding Fong Hang. At three in the morning, I curled myself tightly into the thick duvet, the heavy weight of exhaustion crashing over me now that my desires had been thoroughly sated. In my drowsy, half-conscious state, I watched him walk past the bed wrapped loosely in a bath towel, his brow furrowed into a deep, gloomy frown that showed he was far from happy. Naturally so, of course. For before he had driven over to the hotel to meet me earlier that evening, I had spent the afternoon with Fong Hang. With his vast network of eyes and ears everywhere, he undoubtedly knew about it already.

"Break it off with him."

The mattress dipped under his sudden weight as Fong Zha braced his large hand right beside my pillow, his voice dropping into a low, gravelly command. I forced my heavy eyelids to flutter open, though they felt weighed down by lead, and my voice drifted lazily on the edge of sleep. "If you don't like it... you can always just rip up the contract, husband..."

I cracked my eyes open just enough to watch his expression slowly freeze into a sheet of absolute ice, his dark pupils swirling with a dangerous, brewing tempest.

"Not a chance."

His large hand clamped firmly around my waist, his warm breath fanning so close I could feel the heat radiating from his skin. I gave a lazy, indifferent hum in response. "Oh." If he refused to tear up the contract, then he would simply have to make peace with the fact that I had a boyfriend. After all, I had not broken a single clause of our agreement. I readily admitted to myself that I was growing increasingly brazen by the day. For instance, when Fong Zha casually offered to drive me to work the following morning, I readily agreed without the slightest hesitation, cheerfully announcing right to his face, "Husband, I actually have a date scheduled with my boyfriend today." Or on a random Wednesday evening when Fong Zha unexpectedly dropped by my apartment, I threw my arms around his neck with a radiant smile, adding thoughtfully right before pressing my lips to his, "I kissed my boyfriend just an hour ago, but don't worry, I brushed my teeth thoroughly right after." Of course, in reality, all those phantom dates and kisses were entirely fabricated. Because Fong Hang’s frantic pace of entertainment clashed entirely with my lazy disposition, I vastly preferred staying home. As for Fong Zha, his reactions grew progressively colder day by day, yet bizarrely more erratic. This manifested clearly—the frostier his gaze became, the more rough and demanding his actions grew in private. When I purposefully dropped the word "boyfriend" into our conversations for an entire week straight, Fong Zha finally snapped, sending me a cold, abrupt text message declaring our relationship over. Not a single word of explanation was provided. He had even altered his location tracking so it showed he was currently overseas. Having declared our breakup, he promptly blocked my number across the board. It was entirely transparent that Fong Zha was throwing a childish temper tantrum. Yet I felt not a single shred of genuine regret, considering that my "romance" with Fong Hang had barely even sprouted roots. When the weekend arrived, I dutifully showed up to see Fong Zha just as I always did. But this time, unlike all the previous occasions, the moment I stepped across the threshold, my eyes were rimmed with a pathetic, watery red. Naturally, I was merely acting out a convincing performance of heartbreak—looking thoroughly listless, profoundly sorrowful, and shedding a few calculated tears. Even Fong Zha, who instinctively pulled me into his usual embrace, paused with a slight, perplexed frown. "You're truly this heartbroken over him?" A supposedly "obedient" person like me was currently throwing all caution to the wind—I wrapped both arms tightly around his waist, burying my face deep into his chest while emitting soft, muffled sniffling sounds until I choked out words entirely. That night, I refused to sleep with him. Instead, he remained awake, silently holding me tight throughout the entire night, lost in some unfathomable thoughts. Just as I had drifted into a deep, restful slumber and was lazily wondering how much longer his stubborn patience would hold out, a low, gravelly voice suddenly murmured beside my ear: "Just what is it that you want?" I sleepily rubbed my sleepy eyes. "What do you mean, what do I want?" Fong Zha lightly pinched my cheek, both the pressure in his grip and the heavy tone of his voice carrying a subtle weight of surrender. "What will it take for you to stop feeling so sad?" Well, well, well. What a rare sight indeed. The noble, unyielding man who always insisted on dictating every rule had finally cracked and humbled himself just to coax me back into a good mood?