Shen Jing hummed softly, following him out.
His long strides were deliberately slow, yet Shen Jing still struggled to keep up.
She glanced up slightly.
His back view was as noble and casual as ever, devoid of emotion, without any other trace, resembling a trajectory of the night sky left behind the window—lonely and commanding, so unattainable.
Inside the elevator, he swiped his phone with one hand, an act of unmatched elegance.
It was too quiet.
Shen Jing spoke first, "Thank you for having someone intervene."
"I am not a convenient ladder for you," Zhou Luchen said indifferently. "This is the last time."
"I..."
After a long moment, Shen Jing confessed.
"I was just dealing with Luo Yuanping. I wasn't presuming to be your girlfriend. You're overthinking it."
He replied coolly, "That's best."
It wasn't that Shen Jing didn't dare; it just wasn't the right time yet.
A high-born scion who had never lacked for love... was she really going to get into a serious relationship with someone like that?
Without love, she had no leverage.
The car, driven by security personnel, pulled out from the parking lot and stopped at the building's portico.
Zhou Luchen took the car keys from the man; he was the type for whom someone always opened and closed the car door.
Shen Jing slid into his passenger seat.
Zhou Luchen only asked, his voice chillingly cold, "Where to?"
Not even the courtesy of a 'you.'
"The Peninsula Hotel."
The black sports car sped away from the reception portico.
While waiting at a red light, his long fingers tapped the car door. He glanced at the pharmacy on the corner. "Have you taken your medicine?"
Shen Jing replied earnestly, "I have. I won't cause any problems or use anything to threaten you."
Zhou Luchen said nothing more. As he released the brake and pressed the accelerator, a subtle aura of detachment emanated from him.
It was like an invisible barrier, separating her from him.
Shen Jing quietly watched the neon-lit skyscrapers recede outside the car window.
They had used protection during their encounter, but Shen Jing hadn't trusted Zhou Luchen's self-restraint, so she had, of course, taken extra medication afterward.
He was clearly a noble and proper young master, but he became a completely different person in bed.
So wicked. He was truly, truly wicked.
Even though he looked young, he wasn't a playboy typical of his apparent age; his emotional needs were those of a mature man—controlling and dominant.
The car stopped beside a small, illuminated fountain and flower garden.
Before getting out, Shen Jing asked softly, "Is your shoulder okay? I couldn't help myself and bit you then."
Zhou Luchen shifted slightly, angling his body toward her. "Want to take a look?"
Shen Jing hummed like a kitten, then leaned over the center console, her waist twisting gracefully, her fingers reaching for the buttons on his shirt.
The misty streetlight, filtering through a gap in the car window, landed on the lower half of her beautiful legs beneath her skirt. She pressed them tightly together, her skin as smooth and white as satin.
Thirty-five-inch legs; he knew them well.
Zhou Luchen remained utterly composed, watching her with his dark eyes.
After a long moment, the corners of his lips quirked upwards, yet he showed no sign of being stirred.
The gunmetal-black button came undone. When he stopped her next move with just a look, Shen Jing, who was far from foolish—in fact, quite clever—didn't cross the line by pulling his shirt open to see.
She gently lifted a small part of the collar, testing his reaction.
The high-born scion, nurtured in affluence, possessed a self-disciplined and striking physique. His neck was proud and straight, veins pulsing visibly alongside the bones.
Below, his partially exposed chest muscles were firm and defined, an arresting sight.
Two days had passed, and the bite marks had already faded.
One spot, two spots.
Ah? She felt she'd gone too far. How could her bites have been so unrestrained?
Zhou Luchen asked with amusement, "Seen enough?"
Shen Jing definitely wanted to see more. His physique was incredibly sexy and radiated power. But facing Zhou Luchen's aura, she felt intimidated and didn't dare.
"I saw enough that night."
He let out a meaningful "Oh."
Shen Jing withdrew her hand; looking further would be too much.
"Not heading back yet?" Zhou Luchen glanced at her lightly. "Or do you want to undress for me too?"
Shen Jing was too innocent; she was no match for Zhou Luchen's games.
"I'm not undressing."
"Um... it won't stay there forever, will it? What if someone else sees it?" she asked again, feigning apology.
With those words, she turned like a startled rabbit and dashed out of the car.
He left his shirt unbuttoned.
The night wind slipped in, hissing as it billowed the collar of Zhou Luchen's shirt. The soft, high-thread-count fabric gaped open, artlessly loose.
Zhou Luchen's well-defined lips pressed together slightly. Suddenly, he cursed, "Damn."
「Sixty-three days had passed since the night he escorted her back to the hotel.」
He didn't know why he remembered it so clearly.
Shen Jing hadn't seen Zhou Luchen again; she didn't even know his mobile number.
It felt like a dream, a fleeting charade that had simply ended.
Even though they lived in the same city, their two vastly different lives were never meant to intersect.
Shen Jing hadn't encountered any more harassment from Luo Yuanping; word was the lump on his head had ached for three days and nights.
During the tour, she would occasionally look out at the audience from the stage. She would remember the sight of Zhou Luchen sitting quietly, having booked the entire venue. She recalled her own performance—her voice soft, her speech in the gentle Wu dialect—and him, in a gray suit, quietly lighting a cigarette, inhaling deeply, over and over, as if never satisfied.
「As her piece concluded,」
A drunkard demanded a song, "Night of the Qinhuai."
Shen Jing nodded politely. "Sorry, I don't play that."
"It's all fucking excuses!" the man cursed. "Little Ajing became famous with 'Night of the Qinhuai'!"
Shen Jing felt at fault and endured the troupe leader's scolding all night; her performance fee was gone.
「Later.」
Xing Fei would sometimes lean in close and whisper, "What about that guy from the parking lot, the one who was burning with desire for you? Hasn't he come back to book you out again?"
It's often said that the Jiangnan Water Town nurtures gentle and charming beauties, but Xing Fei was definitely the exception.
Shen Jing offered no explanation, no response.
"That guy," indeed.
He was probably off womanizing, living a carefree, cynical life.
Seeing Shen Jing's unresponsiveness, Xing Fei changed the subject. "Why don't you go back to the Shen Family? What future is there in clutching that pipa of yours every day?"
"Pipa Pingtan is a national artistic treasure. How could it have no future? More and more people will come to love it," Shen Jing replied softly.
She didn't bring up the Shen Family. What would be the point of going back?
Xing Fei couldn't care less about art; she disliked it, only performing with the troupe because her father was the leader.
「When the tour ended, Shen Jing returned to Shanghai to care for her maternal grandmother.」
During longan season, Shen Jing sat in the courtyard, peeling the fruit. Her grandmother mumbled about making wine; though her words were slurred, Shen Jing understood. She patiently peeled the longans for her, then spread them on a winnowing basket to dry in the sun.
The old lady said that when Shen Jing met someone she liked, they would dig up the wine. Not too early, not too late, or it would be bitter. The timing had to be just right for the wine to be fragrant.
Shen Jing hummed in perfunctory agreement.
The old lady leaned on her cane, watching her work, chuckling from time to time. "Nannan, let me tell you, if that scoundrel Feng Jian ever bullies you again, I'll beat him up."
Feng Jian was Shen Jing's stepfather.
So, her grandmother wasn't as muddled as she often seemed, Shen Jing thought.
Actually, the house they were living in had been arranged for her grandmother with money from Shen Jing's performances, after her original home had been swindled away by Feng Jian to finance his gambling.
Her grandmother's age made her prone to confusion and lapses in judgment, which had given Feng Jian the opportunity to succeed in his scheme.
The money Feng Jian had squandered was definitely gone for good.