Jing An Kerry Centre, 77th-floor Presidential Suite.
3:07 a.m.
Lin Zhi wore only Fu Juanzhou's white shirt, second button forever undone. The faint bite mark beneath her collarbone looked like an unclosed clause under the cold light.
She stood barefoot on the heated floor, a cigarette between her fingers—gold lettering on the paper:
Vesting Period: 48 months with 12-month cliff.
Fu Juanzhou stepped out of the shower, towel low around his hips, water tracing the V-line and vanishing.
He climbed onto the bed on one knee, kissed the mark on her collarbone, voice hoarse from a deal that could kill:
"Have you signed it yet?"
Lin Zhi didn't answer. She simply turned over an A4 sheet on the nightstand.
On the back, four blood-red lipstick words:
[Lock-Up Agreement]
Fu Juanzhou flipped it.
Only three lines. Yet crueler than any prenup ever drafted:
For the next four (4) years, Party B shall not engage in sexual activity with any woman other than Party A (including but not limited to oral sex, masturbation, or fantasising about third parties while consuming pornographic material).
Breach triggers full-naked liquidated damages of RMB 120 million, payable instantly to Party A's designated account.
Party A (Lin Zhi) reserves the unilateral right to extend the lock-up period at any time without Party B's consent.
Her signature already sat at the bottom, sharp as a scalpel.
Fu Juanzhou read it, then laughed.
The laugh started at the corner of his eyes, slid down to his throat, and turned into a soft, lethal tsk.
"Lin Zhi," he folded the page into a paper plane and flicked it against her chest, "have you lost your fucking mind?"
Lin Zhi parted his legs with her knee and straddled him. The shirt hem slid to the top of her thighs, exposing a strip of snow-white skin.
She bent down, bit his Adam's apple, voice muffled:
"I lost my mind a long time ago.
Tonight I just decided to write the madness into clauses and make you sign."
Fu Juanzhou's breathing fractured.
He gripped the back of her neck, forced her head up, voice low and vicious:
"120 million?
I make ten of those on a single exit."
Lin Zhi smiled, fingertip trailing down his abs, stopping at the towel knot. One tug.
The towel fell.
"Perfect," she said sweetly, coldly. "Lower breach cost.
Faster payout for me."
Fu Juanzhou's eyes went pitch-black.
The next second he flipped her, pinned her into the mattress, knees forcing hers apart.
"Fine," he bit her earlobe, voice dragging chains out of hell.
"I'll sign.
But I'm adding three amendments."
He reached into the nightstand, pulled out a fountain pen and a fresh sheet, wrote fast—like signing a multi-billion term sheet.
Amendments:
During the lock-up period, Party A shall not engage in any intimate contact with any other male (including but not limited to kissing, hand-holding, or being alone in the same room for longer than three hours).
Breach by Party A triggers identical damages of RMB 120 million plus 10% annual punitive interest until Party B is satisfied.
In the event of pregnancy during the term, it shall constitute a Material Adverse Change (MAC); Party B reserves the unilateral right to force either abortion or marriage—Party A's choice.
He flung the page onto her face, pen tip pressing the bite mark on her collarbone:
"Sign."
Lin Zhi stared at the three new clauses, chest heaving.
After a long moment she laughed, eyes red at the corners.
She snatched the pen, held it between her teeth, bent down and kissed him.
Ink and blood mixed on their tongues—scalding, bitter.
Fu Juanzhou's breath stopped entirely.
Then he crushed her waist, slammed her deeper into the mattress, voice shredded:
"Lin Zhi, you're fucking ruthless."
Lin Zhi laughed, tears falling, burning like molten lead on his chest:
"Right back at you."
That night they signed, tore, resigned, re-tore.
Ink, sweat, blood—ruined the sheets.
Seventeen revisions.
Damages rose from 120 million to 300 million, then settled at 180 million.
Lock-up stretched from four years to six,
then finally to "until one of us is dead."
The maddest moment came at 5:17 a.m.
Lin Zhi straddling him, hair plastered to her face with sweat, voice hoarse yet clear:
"Fu Juanzhou, one more clause."
She bent, bit his lip until it bled:
"For the next four years, you are only allowed to love me.
Only me.
If you can't—"
She dug her nails into his throat:
"I will personally short you.
Short every fund you manage, every ounce of your reputation, your entire future.
I will make you disappear from Shanghai."
Fu Juanzhou stared into her eyes—black holes with no bottom.
After an eternity, he smiled.
A smile like a blade finally meeting its perfect whetstone.
He seized the back of her head, kissed her deep and brutal, voice an oath and a curse:
"Deal.
But remember—if you breach first,
I won't let you die.
I'll keep you alive,
make you watch me destroy everything you love,
then love you
for the rest of your life."
Near dawn they finally stopped.
Two copies of the agreement lay crumpled in the corner—
covered in teeth marks, fingerprints, blood—like two shredded souls.
Lin Zhi curled against his chest, voice barely a sigh:
"Fu Juanzhou, tell me…
Did we just sign a lovers' contract,
or bury a nuclear warhead in each other?"
He kissed her sweat-soaked temple, voice hoarse and almost tender:
"Both.
Four years from now,
either we go public together,
or we burn to ash together."
Outside, the first ray of morning light hit the Shanghai skyline.
In the reflection of the Huangpu River,
for the first time, two shadows appeared
intertwined so tightly
they looked like serpents
or chains.
The lock-up period
officially
took effect.