I Have 10 Trillion Dollars only Usable For Simping

Chapter 2662: Chapter 1656: Weight_2

This guy is a lunatic.

"If you can think of it that way, that’s for the best."

Fujiwara Takuya nodded. "Any other thoughts?"

"The eldest brother is like a father. Since Father is gone, naturally everything is for Older Brother to decide."

Fujiwara Takuya sneered to himself, while his face remained kindly and amiable.

"Then let’s get it settled as soon as possible. Our Fujiwara Family hasn’t had a happy occasion for a long time."

"If Brother has nothing else, Li Ji will take her leave first."

Fujiwara Takuya hummed in reply, watching that delicate body he’d once drooled over rise, sway away. His gaze shifted in an instant, filling with a savage urge to bring her to ruin.

Of course.

That strand of a man’s most feral desire to possess a woman beyond all ethics was still there, just buried deeper.

"Bitch!

Fujiwara Reiki clearly didn’t notice the changing look behind her back, nor the jealous, venomous curse. Wearing wooden clogs, she walked back to her own courtyard.

The very first thing.

She stepped onto the electronic scale that clashed completely with the room’s style.

108.

Up another two pounds.

So this new plumpness wasn’t an illusion.

"Eh..."

She let out a faint sigh, stepped off the scale, then, as if doubting the result, hopped adorably back on.

But electronic devices don’t lie.

The numbers were clear and steady.

Still 108.

"You try."

Fujiwara Reiki stepped down, not even sure who she was talking to.

Then.

A short-haired woman who no one knew when she’d appeared stepped onto the scale.

"Eh～"

Standing beside her, Fujiwara Reiki sighed again. "Sakura, we used to be neck and neck."

Sakura stepped off the Shen Zhou–made electronic scale, still with that clean short hair, fair skin. A person like her, being a Death Warrior was really a bit of a waste.

"Miss, don’t mind it. It’ll keep going up."

"..."

Fujiwara Reiki froze for a second, then smiled sweetly. "You’re right."

She seemed to let it go, walked off, and pulled open the viewing door to let in more light.

A poppy blooming in the abyss was actually beginning to yearn for warmth.

Fujiwara Reiki gazed at the not-so-spacious garden.

"Jiang Sang just called me. Do you miss him?"

"Sakura wouldn’t dare."

The Death Warrior, prettier than a movie star, stood in the shadow behind her.

"Just now, Jiang Sang mentioned you."

Not a sound.

"Happy?"

Fujiwara Reiki asked with a smile.

Sakura kept silent.

Fujiwara Reiki stopped teasing her, perhaps remembering someone’s reminder over the phone. "Pour me a cup of hot water."

Drinking more hot water is never a bad idea.

Especially with winter setting in.

By the time Sakura came back carrying the hot water, Fujiwara Reiki was already reclining under the corridor.

Lately she really did seem to be short on energy, much more languid—if she could sit, she wouldn’t stand; if she could lie down, she wouldn’t sit.

Taking the hot water, her red lips touched lightly against the rim. Fujiwara Reiki exhaled the steam with pleasure, then raised her hand and gently stroked her lower belly. On that seductively dangerous face, a strange, indescribable glow surfaced.

"Fujiwara Takuya just told me to set a wedding date soon. Has he accepted his fate?"

"More likely he wants to sow discord between you and Mr. Jiang."

Sakura’s voice was stiff.

No matter how sure he was, Fujiwara Takuya could only guess. But she was the witness—and the one who had lived through it.

"Heh heh."

Beautifully reclined, Fujiwara Reiki let out a tinkling laugh, her ink-black hair spilling over the low table.

"Then do you think Jiang Sang will care?"

Sakura said nothing.

But silence is often an answer too.

"I think Jiang Sang will probably mind it, even if it’s just a little bit."

Fujiwara Reiki talked to herself, lifting her hand to make a cute little gesture of measuring length.

Then she took a sip of hot water and went on, "And do you think Wataru Tetsuya will care?"

Care about what?

Thrown out of nowhere like that, how was anyone supposed to answer?

Care that her ’heart belongs to someone else’?

That sounded even more childish than the last question.

If there was even the slightest chance that a certain someone might still begrudge the woman he once possessed marrying another man, then this marriage between two top Japanese factions had from the very start been a political partnership. Both sides knew that perfectly well.

Besides.

As a man.

When it comes to a woman’s "heart," men generally don’t care.

By comparison, what they value far more is a woman’s body.

As long as the body belongs to them, who she thinks of in her heart—does that matter?

Presumably that Prince His Highness, who originally hovered on the fringes of the Imperial Family, certainly wouldn’t mind.

Leaving aside the immense resources embodied in Fujiwara Reiki, just looking at the contrast in their outward images, he’s already gotten an enormous bargain.

Would Wu Dalang despise Pan Jinlian for having Ximen Qing on her mind?

Although this metaphor is rather unfair to all three parties, even insulting, the logic is roughly the same.

"He would."

Yet for such an easy question, Sakura gave a completely opposite answer, and it was resolute.

A Death Warrior.

Without full certainty, she would never speak.

"A common male ailment, is it?"

Fujiwara Reiki’s right hand returned to her lower abdomen.

Thanks to the cover of the qipao, one couldn’t tell whether idleness lately had added any extra flesh.

"If Wataru Tetsuya minds, then it becomes a bit troublesome."

She knit her brows, seeming rather vexed.

"Sakura, do you have a way?"

Sakura didn’t answer immediately; after a while, she finally spoke.

"Only one way. Make Wataru Tetsuya believe it’s his."

What is that supposed to mean?

Why did it suddenly sound like mistress and servant were no longer talking about being in love with someone else?

"How do we make him believe that?"

Fujiwara Reiki pressed on.

Sakura held her tongue.

"Sakura, are you suggesting that I offer myself to that ugly little dwarf?"

Fujiwara Reiki’s tone held no heat, and just as much, no laughter.

"Sakura wouldn’t dare."

Sakura lowered her head. "We can find a substitute to take Miss’s place."

Fujiwara Reiki neither confirmed nor denied, merely took a light sip of water. "You’d still be willing?"

Still.

Is she really treating her like a concubine?

But Wataru Tetsuya is, after all, the legitimate fiancé; sending a Death Warrior raised since childhood to serve as a concubine is at least far more reasonable than what happened last time in Kyoto.

"Unwilling?"

Sakura didn’t respond.

She’d just said it herself: silence is its own kind of answer.

Fujiwara Reiki didn’t blame her; on the contrary, she began to smile again. "Then last time with Jiang Sang... how were you willing? Was it because Jiang Sang is handsome? Or do you also find Jiang Sang very charming?"

Sakura remained mute.

"Hee-hee-hee~"

Fujiwara Reiki drank her hot water, laughter spilling over, making it feel unlike winter at all and instead bathing the little courtyard in a lush spring atmosphere.

"Finding a substitute isn’t very good. Paper can’t keep fire covered forever. That Prince His Highness may not have much of a brain, but he’s not that stupid."

Fujiwara Reiki returned to the point; a smile sat on her face, yet her eyes held not a shred of warmth.

"There’s another way."

Her voice was soft and slow.

"Only the dead can keep a secret forever."

"In Shen Zhou speech, it’s called ’no evidence because the witness is dead.’"

Truly a master of classical learning.

Her use of idiom was almost too apt.

Sakura lifted her eyes.

"...After the wedding?"

A Death Warrior is a Death Warrior.

Her destiny is to carry out orders.

No matter how treasonous those orders may be.

The Imperial Family is the spiritual faith of the Japanese people.

But a Death Warrior bears only a single totem.

"No."

Fujiwara Reiki gave a clear directive.

"Before the wedding."

Sakura frowned slightly.

A Death Warrior is not truly a machine; to some extent she will have thoughts of her own.

If the groom drops dead before the wedding, then this marriage...

"Miss wouldn’t need the Imperial Family anymore."

"No."

Fujiwara Reiki smiled. "I need the Imperial Family. I simply don’t need Wataru Tetsuya, that bothersome fellow—his role is finished. I will replace him, become a member of the Imperial Family myself, and pass on its bloodline."

Sakura’s pupils quivered violently; in the eyes of a Death Warrior, there appeared actual horror.

"What are you spacing out for?"

Even with her back turned, Fujiwara Reiki seemed able to see her reaction.

Sakura lowered her head again.

"Sakura will see to it."

Fujiwara Reiki lounged as she drank her hot water; behind her, the Death Warrior had already vanished without a trace.

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