Du Lai couldn’t keep up the act of being unconscious any longer.

He was stripped, subjected to a forcible bath, and surrounded by several sturdy middle-aged maids who attended to him with unwavering thoroughness — combing his hair, shaving his beard, removing the leg hair, and then applying a fragrant-smelling powder before dressing him in a vintage-style lapel lace shirt paired with dark tapered suspender trousers. Done up like a gift box waiting to be unwrapped, he was sent prettily into a room—

The room contained an enormous golden cage.

Du Lai was locked inside the cage.

Du Lai: “……”

He was speechless. Watching the maids turn to leave, he couldn’t help asking: “What do I do if I need to use the toilet?”

The maids heard this and carried over a chair from the side of the room.

It was a high-backed chair — except where you sat, the center was carved into a hollow circle. Set a chamber pot beneath it, and you had a portable commode.

The maids poured something resembling cat litter into the pot to help with odor and absorb waste quickly.

Du Lai’s expression grew increasingly grim. There was no way he could relieve himself using something like that.

He flatly refused: “I’m constipated.”

One of the other maids produced a long-handled spoon.

Du Lai again: “……”

The way they were looking at him was exactly how you’d look at a dog — if it couldn’t pass anything on its own, they could help dig it out, and their technique appeared practiced.

Du Lai truly could not endure this, and said, face dark as thunder: “No… no need. I don’t need to go right now.”

The maids filed out without a change in expression, locked the cage door, and shut the room door behind them.

Du Lai finally exhaled.

Only now did he have the leisure to survey his surroundings. Looking around, it was easy to see that the room was extraordinarily spacious and lavish. The golden cage was positioned in the southeast corner of the room, where the light was best. The rest of the room held food bowls, water bowls, and various pet toys. Though the room had been kept spotlessly clean, one could still faintly detect in the air a mild animal smell.

He also examined the lock on the cage door. Because it was presumably used for pets, the lock style was very ordinary — the simplest kind available. He could open it with his eyes closed.

Considering the bodyguards outside, prying the cage door open right now would be pointless anyway.

Figuring that Fu Miaoxue almost certainly wouldn’t actually do anything to him, Du Lai settled in and began to rest.

He lay on the soft velvet dog mat, his mood alternating between relaxed and tense, a little unsettled — because he genuinely couldn’t predict the thought process of that madwoman Fu Miaoxue, and had absolutely no idea how she planned to “deal with” him.

He didn’t have to wait long before Fu Miaoxue came back.

Du Lai decided that she must have missed him so terribly that she had come back this quickly.

Not only had she come back — she had brought two enormous dogs with her!

One was a Russian Caucasian Ovcharka; the other a red-coated Tibetan Mastiff.

Both dogs caught the unfamiliar scent and charged at the cage simultaneously, barking furiously! Du Lai couldn’t help stepping back half a pace — the ferocious, savage energy was like being besieged by a lion and a tiger at once!

Fu Miaoxue called out sharply twice, and the giant dogs instantly calmed down, wagging their tails as they went to find their food bowls.

The servants who specialized in caring for them began filing in as well, distributing small treats after their walk.

Du Lai received a plate too: pan-seared steak.

Fu Miaoxue sat outside the cage, chin resting in her hand, watching him with a smile. “I specifically told the chef to make yours medium-well.”

Du Lai glanced out of the corner of his eye at the two dogs’ steaks — both were bloody and raw. Probably… about rare, he guessed.

“Eat up~” Fu Miaoxue winked at him. “Aren’t you hungry?”

With servants all around, Du Lai didn’t say anything — he just spoke with his eyes: *You think I could possibly have an appetite right now?*

Whether or not Fu Miaoxue understood, she rubbed her hands together with palpable eagerness, like someone about to try something exciting. “Let me feed you!”

A maid started to warn her — just managed to say “Young Mistress—” before Fu Miaoxue shot her a fierce glare.

“All of you!” She jabbed a finger outward. “Get out! Stop being an eyesore!”

The servants exchanged glances. Having all presumably experienced the Young Mistress’s temper firsthand, none dared say another word; they quietly made their way out one by one.

Fu Miaoxue turned back with satisfaction, picked up the plate, and narrowed her eyes at Du Lai. “Now no one’s going to bother us. Let me feed you~”

—