Chapter 62: Bitch! You Recorded Me?

The ancient musical instruments on display were indeed valuable: a Ming Dynasty Zhongni-style guqin with warm, lustrous wood and fine, silk-like crackle patterns; a Qing-era purple bamboo dixiao with deep hue and smooth, rounded finger holes. Xia Yunge watched with great interest, occasionally whispering to Qin Feng about the origins and tonal qualities of these instruments, her eyes gleaming with professional passion.

Though Qin Feng had no deep study of music, his extraordinary perception allowed him to faintly sense the accumulated years and rhythms embedded in these ancient objects. He listened quietly, nodding occasionally, yet his gaze remained calmly detached, as if looking down from above.

Far away, Zhou Zhe watched them whispering intimately, his heart churning like a spilled bottle of seasonings—jealousy and resentment intertwined. He prided himself on his talent and noble lineage, a respected figure in the music circle who had long pursued Xia Yunge without ever winning her favor. What right did this sudden stranger, Qin Feng, have?

He smoothed his expression and walked over again, holding his wine glass, his face once more wearing that refined smile, though a faint, barely noticeable shadow lingered deep in his eyes.

"Yun Ge, Mr. Qin, still interested in these ancient instruments?" Zhou Zhe smiled as he spoke, his gaze fixed on Qin Feng. "Mr. Qin doesn't seem the type to often encounter such refined objects. Can you truly appreciate them?"

His words carried clear provocation, implying Qin Feng was an uneducated "nouveau riche."

Xia Yunge frowned slightly, about to speak in defense, but Qin Feng had already spoken calmly: "Instruments have form; their spirit has none. Understanding or not lies not in words, but in the heart."

His words were plain, yet carried a force that pierced to the core, rendering Zhou Zhe's roundabout barbs embarrassingly petty.

Zhou Zhe's face stiffened; he let out a dry laugh. "Mr. Qin speaks wisely." He shifted tone, as if casually adding, "By the way, Yun Ge's inspiration has recently surged—I hear she's composing a new piece blending ancient melodies? I'm truly looking forward to it. Do us old friends have the honor of hearing it first?"

His words pretended to praise Xia Yunge, but were in fact probing—and subtly emphasizing his own status as one of her "old friends," attempting to draw closer and exclude Qin Feng.

Xia Yunge replied politely but distantly: "Still in revision. Not convenient to show yet."

Zhou Zhe pressed on, half-drunk, half-joking: "Yun Ge, that's not fair. Now that you've got a boyfriend, you're even wary of your senior? Mr. Qin wouldn't be that petty, would he?" He deliberately glanced at Qin Feng, trying to pressure him with words.

Qin Feng finally looked at him directly. His gaze was calm, unruffled—but Zhou Zhe suddenly felt a chill.

"Her work, she alone decides when and to whom to show it," Qin Feng said, his voice low but carrying irrefutable authority. "As for whether I'm petty…" He paused, a faint, almost cruel curve touching his lips. "You'd better not find out."

Zhou Zhe choked on his breath, his face instantly flushing red. The threat beneath that calm tone was more terrifying than any overt insult he'd ever heard. He felt like a clumsy clown before this man—every probe and provocation had smashed uselessly against an invisible wall of bronze and iron.

The air around them seemed to freeze. Those who noticed the scene cast curious glances.

Humiliated and enraged, alcohol and jealousy clouding his mind, Zhou Zhe lowered his voice, voice trembling with desperation: "Yun Ge, don't be fooled by appearances! This sudden so-called rich man—his background could be dirty! He might even be connected to the Xiao Family's downfall! Being with him, you risk bringing disaster upon yourself!"

His words had nearly torn all pretense away, laced with malice and intimidation.

Xia Yunge's face darkened instantly. She could endure Zhou Zhe's harassment, but she would never tolerate him slandering or threatening Qin Feng. She was about to retort sharply when Qin Feng gently pressed his hand over hers.

Qin Feng looked at Zhou Zhe, his gaze as if watching a buzzing fly, tinged with impatience. "Finished?"

Zhou Zhe, fully enraged, blurted out: "What? Did I hit the mark? I'll tell you—I've already recorded it! I recorded every word you just threatened me with! Someone like you, with unknown origins—who knows what you're hiding behind the scenes—"

His words cut off abruptly.

Because Qin Feng moved.

No one saw how he moved—only a blur, and Zhou Zhe's phone was already in Qin Feng's hand. Qin Feng's fingers slid casually across the screen, as if checking something.

Zhou Zhe froze for a moment, then screamed in panic: "What are you doing! Give me back my phone!" He reached to snatch it, but Qin Feng's cold glance pinned him in place, motionless.

Qin Feng held the phone, seeing the recording app still running—the recording time clearly began from their earlier conversation. He lifted his eyes to Zhou Zhe's ashen face and spoke with icy mockery:

"Bitch."

He uttered two simple words, quiet but like a slap—cracking open Zhou Zhe's dignity and stripping away every pretense.

"Y-you insulted me!" Zhou Zhe trembled with rage, especially under the shocked and contemptuous stares of Xia Yunge and the onlookers—utterly humiliated.

"Recording?" Qin Feng's fingers tightened slightly. The expensive phone in his hand emitted a sickening "crack!"—the screen darkened instantly, the entire body twisting and deforming. "Do you think such a low-class trick deserves to be played before me?"

He casually tossed the ruined phone at Zhou Zhe's feet, as if discarding trash.

"Go."

One word—like thunder—exploded in Zhou Zhe's ears, carrying an unyielding Spiritual Pressure. He staggered back two steps, face as white as paper. He forgot all dignity, all face—snatched up the broken phone, and fled the salon in a crawling, stumbling panic, amid the onlookers' strange glances and murmurs.

The entire salon fell silent.

Everyone was stunned by the lightning-fast scene. They stared at the man who still stood calm and composed, as if nothing had happened, filled with awe.

Authoritative. Powerful. Ruthless.

This was Xia Yunge's boyfriend?

Xia Yunge stared at Qin Feng, not with fear, but with an indescribable sense of safety—and satisfaction. She knew: with a man like Zhou Zhe, reasoning was useless. Only absolute power could silence him completely.

Qin Feng turned to her. The coldness on his face melted instantly, returning to his usual calm. "The flies are gone. Keep looking."

As if he'd merely swatted away an annoying insect.

Xia Yunge looked at him and nodded firmly, slipping her arm through his. Her smile returned, bright and secure.

After this incident, no one dared approach them again. Qin Feng's presence became an invisible forbidden zone—inspiring awe in all, granting Xia Yunge an unprecedented peace beneath his protection.

She knew: choosing this man might bring countless storms—but at least, no one would ever dare use such vile methods to humiliate her again.