Before closing the door completely, I took one last look at Lin Chaowan and said calmly, “Lin Chaowan, I’m not covering for you anymore. Your parents will track you down here very soon. This is the price you pay for your betrayal.”

After the door slammed shut, I could still hear her sobbing from inside—a broken, desperate cry.

Trudging back to my room, I pushed open the door to find Pho Dinh already sitting there. All the front of strength I’d been putting up instantly crumbled. Exhausted, I threw myself into his arms, letting a few bitter tears spill down my cheeks.

After all, back in our dorm room, Chaowan had been the nicest to me. Her friendship over the past two years had been genuine, but her foolish, greedy betrayal today was just as real.

Dinh gently stroked the back of my neck, his deep, warm voice laced with a subtle, mocking chuckle. “Why the tears, baby? I swear on my life I didn’t give her a single glance.”

I knew he was teasing me on purpose to distract me and lighten my mood. Sniffling, I replied, “Uncle Dinh, if you hated it that much, you could’ve just had the staff change the sheets and pillows. Throwing out the entire bed is such a waste.”

Dinh’s body stiffened for a beat, an expression of sheer disgust washing over his eyes. “Don’t bring her up in front of me again.”

The problem was, the master of the mansion seemed to have nowhere to sleep tonight. The only guest bedroom downstairs had also been tainted by Lin Chaowan.

It was pushing 11:00 PM. Draped in a dark navy silk pajama set, his eyes brimming with shameless intentions, the man leaned against my bedroom doorframe and drawled lazily, “Hey kiddo… mind letting your uncle crash here for the night?”

What an opportunistic pervert! Whenever he wanted to flirt, he’d shamelessly play up the “uncle and niece” dynamic just to tease me.

Left with no choice, my face flushed red as I mumbled, “Fine. Come in.”

And just like that, I let the cunning wolf straight into my room. I curled up timidly in his arms, bracing myself for the impending storm. But I had to hand it to him—when Pho Dinh set out to stir up trouble, his moves were no joke.

His hand lightly stroked the delicate hem of my nightgown near my waist, asking in a casually seductive voice, “What fabric is this? It feels so soft.”

Positioned right in front of my eyes was his insanely attractive Adam’s apple, bobbing slightly with his heavy breaths. I squeaked shyly, “It’s… 100% cotton.”

His rough fingertips began tracing slow paths across my skin, finally coming to a halt on a deeply sensitive spot no one had ever touched before. He repeated the exact same question in an even deeper, raspier tone.

Driven to a corner, I summoned every last drop of my courage. Wrapping my arms tightly around his neck, I tilted my chin up and boldly pressed a kiss against his lips, purring back: “Does the fabric even matter? Uncle Dinh… tell me, is this soft feeling really the fabric, or is it me?”

Dinh’s breath hitched instantly, growing ragged and wild. His fathomless eyes darkened into a pitch-black abyss, holding a raging tempest about to tear through everything.

“You’re really pushing it, little girl.”

With a low growl, he flipped over, pinning me firmly beneath his body, his gaze locked onto mine with fierce obsession. That night’s breathtaking, uncharted journey began with a searing kiss and ended with me convinced I was literally going to lose my life to his intensity.

When it was all over, I was completely limp and exhausted, lying still like a stranded fish, soaking in the quiet after the storm. Yet Dinh seemed to still have energy to burn. As his hand continued to trace lazy circles along my bare spine, he leaned close to my ear and whispered mischievously:

“Baby, what’s that dripping under you?”

I was far too exhausted to even open my mouth and curse him. Dinh tilted his chin slightly, a smug rumble echoing from his chest:

“Oh right… that’s just what I left inside you.”

Me: “…”

Fine, he won! Whatever wild game he wanted to play, I was at his mercy anyway!

After that wild ordeal, Dinh entered the busiest phase of his career, while my life on campus returned to its usual quiet rhythm.

Chaowan was forced by her parents to withdraw from school and escorted back to her hometown. Later, I heard she didn’t end up marrying the crippled man after all; instead, she married a decent guy from her village who came from a comfortable family—average looks, average personality. Everyone in her village praised her good fortune for landing such a “perfect” husband.

Hearing the news left a heavy knot of melancholy in my chest for a long time. More than anger toward Chaowan, I felt a deep ache for women who remained trapped in outdated, regressive traditions, unable to break free.

That gloomy mood hung over me all day until dusk fell, and Dinh arrived to pick me up.

Today, he casually drove his luxury sports car straight into campus, pulling up right outside my dorm building. My club mates, who had never laid eyes on Pho Dinh before, nudged me excitedly and whispered, “Who is that total hunk? Is he your relative?”

Before I could even formulate an answer, a deep, unmistakably familiar voice sounded behind me, sharp and decisive:

“Her boyfriend.”

Dinh casually stepped up beside me, the golden sunset casting long shadows over his broad, sturdy shoulders. Under the shocked, stunned gazes of my friends, he didn’t hesitate for a second—smiling warmly at them as he confidently introduced himself:

“Hi everyone, I’m Shen Yu’s boyfriend.”

The girls in my club instantly exploded with excitement, buzzing around me the moment he walked ahead to the car:

“Oh my god, your boyfriend is insane! He’s so hot and cool!”

“No wonder you didn’t even blink when the campus heartthrob pursued you!”

“He’s in a completely different league!”

Hiding my blushing cheeks behind my hands, I happily hurried after his tall frame. The second I got into the car, I tilted my head, flashing him a radiant, teasing grin: “So, out in public, do I still need to call you ‘Uncle’?”

Dinh skillfully spun the steering wheel with one hand, his eyes fixed on the road ahead. Raising an eyebrow, he gave a loaded response: “Depends on the time and place. But if you really want to call me that… you still can.”

I blinked in confusion. “Huh? What do you mean?”

“For instance, late at night… in the privacy of our bedroom.”

Speechless, I turned my head toward the window to hide my burning face. Old habits die hard—this man’s rogue, shameless nature would never change!

Only later did I learn that his hectic schedule back then was because he was throwing every ounce of his power into climbing to the absolute pinnacle of high society. He had officially taken the reins of his family empire, commanding absolute authority and status.

Where snobbish elites used to throw subtle shade or whisper rumors about our relationship at high-society banquets, those whispers were now completely silenced. Whatever they thought in private, face-to-face with Dinh and me, every single one of them had to bow their heads respectfully and address me as “Mrs. Pho.”

That was the fruit of his relentless effort. Dinh had kept his promise to the letter, using all his power to carve out a peaceful, proud sanctuary for me.

That night, after a long and tiring day, Dinh asked for nothing more. He simply pulled me close into his arms and drifted off into a peaceful sleep.

Resting my head against his chest, I closed my eyes and drifted into a dream. I dreamed of the very first day I met Pho Dinh, at my parents’ funeral all those years ago.

Back then, before my father passed away, he hadn’t yet secured any major business deals with the Pho family. Our family fortune had crumbled, ripped apart and devoured by greedy relatives. At eight years old, the only wealth left in my pocket was a five-dollar bill and two consolation candies.

Candies were just cheap tricks adults used to soothe grieving children—I had understood that early on. So, I took my last five dollars and ran off to buy a single white lisianthus flower.

Right before Pho Dinh stepped into his car to leave, I summoned every bit of strength in my tiny legs and ran after him like my life depended on it. Tugging tightly at the hem of his suit jacket, I carefully placed the white lisianthus into his palm, looking up at him through tear-filled eyes, asking softly:

“Big Brother… can I go home with you?”

That year, he tightened his grip around that white flower—and around my tiny hand.

On the day my entire world fell apart, this man appeared, pulling me into a new world filled with his protection and devotion.

In the brilliant morning light of a brand-new day, I smiled softly and stepped forward into the arms of the man who held my heart.