Reborn As A Doomsday Villainess-Chapter 36: If I wanted to sell by body I wouldn’t be here with millions sitting in my pocket

Chapter 36: If I wanted to sell by body I wouldn’t be here with millions sitting in my pocket

Qingran took a measured step forward, her gaze steady. "That’s news to me," she said coolly.

Mr. Fang let out a quiet chuckle, swirling the whiskey in his glass. "Really? Because the casino staff seemed to believe otherwise. Imagine my surprise when I found out that I had supposedly vouched for someone tonight."

He leaned back in his chair, studying her with idle curiosity. "You must be either very bold or very desperate to use my name so carelessly."

Qingran smiled, unbothered. "Why not both?"

His lips twitched in amusement, but his eyes remained sharp. He motioned toward one of the seats across from him. "Sit."

She debated ignoring the invitation, but pushing her luck too far wouldn’t be wise. Instead, she stepped forward and took a seat, crossing her legs.

The men who had escorted her remained standing behind her, silent but watchful.

Mr. Fang rested his elbow on the arm of his chair, fingers tapping lazily against the glass in his hand. "So, tell me, who exactly are you?"

Qingran met his gaze without hesitation. "Just someone passing through."

"That’s a little vague for someone who just walked out with millions, don’t you think?"

Her fingers curled slightly against the leather of the chair.

So he had been watching the games.

Lingquan snickered in her mind. [I think he likes you, Host. Look at all this attention.]

She ignored him.

"Are you here to take back my winnings?" she asked lightly.

Mr. Fang let out a low chuckle. "If I wanted to take it back, you wouldn’t have left the table."

"Then why stop me?"

He tilted his head. "Because I find you interesting."

Qingran arched a brow. "And that’s enough reason to get your men involved?"

Mr. Fang smirked. "Let’s just say, I don’t like when people borrow my name without asking. I was curious about the kind of person who’d try it."

"And now that you’ve seen me?"

He took a slow sip of his drink before setting the glass down. "Now, I want to know what you really came here for."

Qingran met his gaze evenly. "To make money. You’re quite slow Mr. Fang."

"And that’s all?"

"That’s all."

Mr. Fang studied her for a long moment, then exhaled a soft chuckle. "You’re not even going to try to lie. Interesting."

He leaned forward slightly, resting his arms on his knees. "Tell me, what kind of person risks offending someone like me just to make money? You don’t look like an amateur gambler, and you don’t seem reckless enough to pull a stunt like this without a way out."

Qingran simply smiled. "Does it matter?"

"Maybe not," Mr. Fang mused. "But I think I’d like to find out."

Lingquan hummed in amusement. [Oh, this is getting fun.]

Qingran resisted the urge to sigh.

Mr. Fang leaned back again, watching her with an easy smile. "So, tell me, Miss Passing Through, are you interested in making more?"

Qingran stood up smoothly, adjusting the weight of the money in her coat pocket. "I appreciate the conversation, Mr. Fang, but I’ll be taking my leave now."

She wasn’t a fool—she knew when to avoid a well-laid trap. And this man, with his easy smile and sharp gaze, was laying one right in front of her.

But Mr. Fang wasn’t finished.

Before she could step past him, he moved, closing the distance between them in a few slow, deliberate steps. He wasn’t in a rush—no, he was enjoying this.

Qingran didn’t move away. She held her ground, meeting his gaze without flinching.

His lips curved. "Since you’ve used my name, I think it’s only fair that I get my reward."

Her fingers twitched slightly. "Reward?"

Mr. Fang reached up, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear as he lowered his voice. "Sleep with me."

Qingran’s expression didn’t change, but something cold settled in her stomach.

Mr. Fang continued, his tone light, as if he were making a casual business offer. "The women who enter this casino using my name know what it means. If you used my name, you should’ve known that too." He tilted his head slightly. "So, what’s it going to be, Miss Passing Through?"

Lingquan’s voice rang out in her mind, quieter than usual. [Well. This is an interesting development. Perhaps you should have taken your Mr. Annoying back at the hotel.]

Qingran’s pulse was steady, but her patience was thinning.

Her gaze flickered to the men standing near the entrance—his people, watching ans waiting for her to make a move.

She could handle them. If she had to fight, she would.

But Mr. Fang wasn’t stupid. He was testing her, waiting to see how she would react.

She exhaled slowly, then smiled.

"Mr. Fang," she murmured, tilting her head just slightly. "If I wanted to sell my body for money, I wouldn’t be standing here with millions in my pocket, would I?"

Mr. Fang chuckled, dark amusement flickering in his eyes. "Oh? So you’re saying you don’t need my generosity?"

Qingran’s smile didn’t falter. "I’m saying you can keep your generosity. I don’t do business this way."

His fingers brushed against her jaw, light but possessive. "That’s a shame," he murmured. "Because I do."

Lingquan’s voice in her mind was unusually sharp. [Qingran, this man isn’t playing around.]

She knew that.

The moment she had used his name to get inside, she had unknowingly entered his game. He didn’t intend to let her leave unscathed. If she tried to walk away now, it wouldn’t be that simple.

The men by the door had shifted subtly, their attention fully on her. They weren’t just watching. They were waiting for an order.

Qingran weighed her options.

Could she fight? Yes. Would she win? Likely. But winning wasn’t just about taking out an opponent—it was about making sure the consequences didn’t come back to haunt her. If she made an enemy of this man, he wouldn’t let it go.

Mr. Fang sighed as if he found her silence disappointing. "You’re quite pretty, you know." His thumb brushed against her chin, tilting her face up. "It would be a waste to just let you go."

Her stomach curled in disgust, but her expression remained unreadable.

She could feel it now—his confidence, his certainty that he was in control.

And that was what she had to break.

Qingran’s lips curved slightly. "Mr. Fang," she murmured, her tone almost amused. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

His grip on her jaw tightened ever so slightly. "Oh?"

She leaned in just a fraction, lowering her voice. "Because if you do, you might regret it."

Mr. Fang’s eyes darkened. "Regret it?"

Qingran smiled. "Of course. A man in your position should know—you never gamble on a game where you don’t know all the rules."

Something in his expression shifted, his amusement dimming just slightly.

She stepped back smoothly, breaking his hold, and adjusted her coat as if nothing had happened. "It was an interesting conversation, but I have places to be."

Mr. Fang studied her, his gaze slow and considering.

Then, he laughed. Low, rich, full of something unreadable.

"Interesting," he murmured. "Very interesting."