*Clap—*

*Clap—*

*Clap—*

“Did you really think such a petty trick would let you swipe it?”

Qin Cheng stood perfectly still, calmly watching Fu Hou sprint into the distance. A teasing smirk played on his lips—he wasn’t the least bit worried about her escape.

His hands clapped slowly, rhythmically. The crisp sound echoed softly. His unshakable composure made Fu Hou slow her steps.

Still running, she glanced back doubtfully and tugged at her bag’s zipper, desperate to confirm whether her family heirloom was truly gone. But luck wasn’t on her side.

The zipper jammed. Already flustered, she yanked harder—her delicate hands flushed red—but it wouldn’t budge.

Distracted by the bag, she tripped forward with a stumble. Scrapes bloomed on her knees. The bag tumbled from her arms.

*“Damn it!!!”* she cursed inwardly, snatching it up and bolting again—though slower now.

Fu Hou grew smaller in Qin Cheng’s sight, yet he remained utterly calm. He even pulled out his phone and started scrolling idly.

*Riiip—*

“Nice! Huh?!”

The zipper tore clean off. But before she could check for the heirloom, a tall figure slammed into her. The bag flew again.

Scattered across the pavement: an ID card, RMB notes, a golden earring, gloves… and a silver ring etched with a coiling dragon.

“There it is! You pervert! You set me up! You tricked me!”

Pinned to the ground by Lao Biao, Fu Hou seethed with helpless fury. Her wide eyes locked onto the silver dragon ring—a flicker of grievance flashing within.

“I only said *check if it’s there*. I never said it *wasn’t*~”

Qin Cheng pocketed his phone, strolled over with a smile, and plucked up the ring. “How can you blame me?”

Honestly… he hadn’t lied.

With a wave from Qin Cheng, Lao Biao released her and scampered obediently behind him.

“That hurt… Couldn’t you be gentler?” Fu Hou brushed off her clothes, shooting Lao Biao a pouty, aggrieved look. Then she turned to Qin Cheng—tiny hand trembling outward, crystalline tears welling in her amber eyes but refusing to fall.

“What’s this? So bold earlier, now all pitiful?” Qin Cheng toyed with the ring, eyeing her with mock disdain. *Wasn’t she the one calling me a pervert? Now playing the victim?*

*Who does she think I am? I’m Qin Cheng—the Demon Sovereign! Let her ask around the neighboring otherworld. Does she really think I can’t handle a brat like her?*

“Give… give it back…” Fu Hou puffed her cheeks, head bowed, waving her hands weakly. Thick-skinned as she was, she still dared to ask again.

“Didn’t your parents teach you how to properly ask for something?” Qin Cheng loomed over her, eyes closed, voice sharpening. Anyone overhearing might’ve mistaken him for a stern officer.

Silence.

He opened his eyes.

Fu Hou stood there, jaw tight, tears stubbornly held back.

“I don’t want it anymore…”

The Demon Sovereign froze—genuinely bewildered.

She shot him one last defiant glance, bit her lip lightly, then limped past him. Alone, she gathered her scattered belongings. Fresh scrapes stained her fair legs; each step wobbled with pain, teeth clenched against the sting. Trembling, she stuffed items back into the torn bag. Reaching for the distant golden earring, she nearly stumbled again.

Finally done. Under Qin Cheng and Lao Biao’s silent watch—

*Beep! Beep!*

A taxi pulled up, horn honking.

“H-Here!” Fu Hou hopped weakly, waving through gritted teeth, terrified the driver would miss her.

As the taxi halted, she turned back. Her amber eyes shimmered with heartbreaking vulnerability.

“I have no parents. No one ever taught me. I don’t want it anymore.”

Her voice stayed flat, but her eyes burned crimson. A single tear traced her cheek and fell to the asphalt.

Then, limping heavily, she climbed inside. Moments later, she vanished from sight.

...

After a long silence, Lao Biao ventured softly:

“Master Qin… were we… a bit too harsh?”

Qin Cheng said nothing.

He simply stared at the silver dragon ring in his palm, lost in thought.

*“Call from Master Qin! Call from Master Qin!”*

Lao Biao’s phone blared from his pocket.

“Huh? You’re calling *me*, Master Qin?” He blinked at the screen, then at Qin Cheng—utterly confused. *But you’re not even holding your phone…?*

Qin Cheng patted his pockets.

His phone was gone.

“Answer it,” he said flatly.

“Right!”

Lao Biao connected the call.

A voice—familiar yet mischievous—crackled through the speaker:

“Fooled ya! This *lady’s* real family heirloom was the golden earring all along!!!

And yeah—I swiped your phone too. Mad?~

Bet you never saw *this* escape route coming!!!

Plan successful! Wryyyyyyyyy!!!”

Qin Cheng’s face went utterly, completely dark.