Reborn As A Doomsday Villainess
Chapter 59: Spread them wide open

Chapter 59: Spread them wide open

Yuxi, Ren, and Zhen looked up from where they were joking around, their expressions shifting when they realized Qingran was calling them over.

They exchanged glances before jogging toward her, curiosity evident in their eyes.

"You heading out already?" Yuxi asked, rubbing the back of her neck. "Man, that sucks. I was hoping you’d stick around a little longer."

Zhen crossed his arms, nodding. "Yeah, it’s rare to meet someone who can actually hold their own. Would’ve been nice to spar properly."

Ren remained silent, his sharp gaze studying her as if trying to memorize her face.

Qingran took in their reactions with mild amusement before shrugging. "Yeah, we’ve got stuff to take care of."

They clearly didn’t like that answer, but none of them argued.

She saw this as an opportunity. "If you guys wanna keep in touch, add my QQ," she said, pulling out her phone. "I don’t answer calls often, but I check my messages."

Yuxi’s face immediately brightened. "Oh, hell yeah! I was gonna ask, but I didn’t wanna seem annoying."

Zhen smirked. "Too late for that, dumbass."

Yuxi ignored him and quickly took out her phone to scan her code, followed by Zhen. Ren hesitated for a moment before silently pulling out his phone and scanning it as well.

"Don’t spam me," Qingran warned.

"No promises," Yuxi shot back with a grin.

Ren, who had been quiet the whole time, suddenly spoke. "Will we see you again?"

Qingran glanced at him, then at the others.

"Maybe," she said vaguely. "Depends."

It wasn’t a lie. If they didn’t die before the apocalypse started then yeah, they’d meet again.

She turned to Anya. "Let’s go."

Anya stretched and pushed up her glasses. "Yeah, yeah. You owe me boba."

Qingran smirked. "Sure."

As she and Anya walked off, Lingquan’s voice rang in her mind. [Feng Yizhou’s address is ready. Where to next, boss?]

Qingran’s smirk deepened. Time to pay a visit.

As soon as Qingran and Anya finished talking, she checked the time—past six.

Damn it.

Without wasting another second, she turned on her heel and strode off.

"Hey, where are you rushing off to?" Anya called after her.

"Home," Qingran replied over her shoulder. "I’ve got things to do."

Anya narrowed her eyes in suspicion. "You’re acting weird."

"Always have been, haven’t I?," Qingran shot back before making her way to her car.

As soon as Qingran got home, she wasted no time.

She tossed her bag onto the couch, grabbed some fresh clothes, and headed straight for the bathroom. The hot water pounded against her skin, washing away the sweat and grime from the day. She let herself relax for only a minute before shutting off the water.

Drying off quickly, she threw on a black hoodie and a pair of jeans, ruffled her damp hair with a towel, then grabbed her keys.

"Lingquan, send me the address," she said while slipping on her sneakers.

[Already did. Check your phone, slowpoke.]

Qingran rolled her eyes but checked the message. Feng Yizhou’s address was pinned.

Without another word, she grabbed her phone, stepped out, and got into her car.

She started the engine and pulled onto the road, weaving through the evening traffic with ease.

Feng Yizhou had been quiet. Too quiet. And that was suspicious, besides she could see the opportunity to take a look at where he lived.

As Qingran drove through the city, she couldn’t help but notice how the surroundings gradually changed.

The narrow streets and modest buildings gave way to wider roads, lined with high-end boutiques, luxury restaurants, and towering residential complexes.

She arched a brow. This bastard’s living well, huh?

She had expected Feng Yizhou to be doing alright, but the closer she got to the location, the more it became clear—he wasn’t just doing well. He was loaded.

Her navigation led her into a high-end district, where the streetlights cast a soft glow on sleek sports cars parked along the sidewalks. She pulled up in front of a tall, glass-covered apartment complex, its entrance guarded by a security checkpoint.

Qingran frowned as she double-checked the address. Penthouse suite?

So not only was he living in an expensive district, but he was also at the very top of one of the most exclusive apartment buildings?

"Lingquan, you sure this is the right place?"

[I literally pulled this from official records. If it’s wrong, blame the government, not me.]

She clicked her tongue and turned off the car. Whatever. She wasn’t going to overthink it.

Qingran had expected Feng Yizhou to be home.

She had gotten past the building security with ease, slipping in like a shadow. The penthouse door hadn’t been too difficult to bypass either—his security system was good, but she was better.

Yet, the entire suite was eerily silent.

No music, no TV, no lights. Just the faint scent of cologne lingering in the air.

Her footsteps were muffled against the plush carpets as she moved through the space. The living room was minimalist and modern, not a single thing out of place. The kitchen was untouched, the dining area spotless.

No signs of life.

Her brows furrowed. Was he not home?

Still, she wasn’t leaving empty-handed. She made her way deeper into the penthouse, pushing open doors one by one. A study, a spare bedroom, a gym—nothing else.

Finally, she reached his bedroom.

It was larger than she expected, the bed king-sized, sheets crisp. A faint trace of warmth lingered in the air, telling her someone had been here recently.

She turned, already making her way out, when a chill ran down her spine.

A presence—powerful, towering—emerged behind her, thick with heat.

Before she could react, her feet left the ground.

A startled gasp escaped her lips as she was effortlessly lifted and tossed onto the bed.

The mattress dipped under her weight, her instincts kicking in as she turned sharply—only for her breath to hitch.

Feng Yizhou stood over her, completely naked except for a loosely wrapped towel hanging dangerously low on his hips.

His body was still damp from a shower, droplets of water trailing down his defined abs. His hair was wet, strands clinging to his sharp jawline as he stared down at her, his eyes dark, looking hungry.

Qingran barely had a second to move before he grabbed her ankle, pulling her back into the mattress, his strong hands effortlessly keeping her in place.

Then, his voice—deep, commanding, laced with something unmistakably possessive—sent a shiver through her spine.

"Spread them wide open."

Qingran’s heart pounded against her ribs, but her expression remained defiant as she glared up at him.