A Twisted Love Affair
Chapter 43: Are you looking at me, Zhou Luchen_1

Chapter 43: Are you looking at me, Zhou Luchen_1

Raindrops hammered the road, pitter-pattering loudly.

The cold air made her shiver. She burrowed slightly into Zhou Luchen’s chest, her legs clamping tightly around his lean, powerful waist. "Where are we going?"

"To switch cars."

Under the umbrella, in the small space between them, his breath was mere inches away.

"Can you hold me a little tighter? I’m getting rain in my mouth."

Zhou Luchen pursed his lips. "Be any more delicate, and I’ll toss you out."

Her mind was muddled, yet she knew with certainty when Zhou Luchen was most likely to lose his composure. She lifted her chin and planted a fierce, sucking kiss on his neck.

"Don’t leave me by the roadside. What if someone picks me up?" she murmured, sounding rather pitiful and innocent.

Zhou Luchen pinched her chin with one hand to get a better look. Her eyes remained closed, her eyelids thin and rosy, an image of pure, blossoming allure.

It was the first time he had watched her sleep.

Previously, he had been focused on sleeping himself and had never paid close attention to what she actually looked like asleep.

She was the very picture of a beauty, a completely different kind of charm compared to when she was slick with sweat in bed with him.

...

She was too tired. Shen Jing couldn’t remember what happened afterward.

Exhausted from the journey back from HK, she felt an unusual wave of drowsiness wash over her now that she was by Zhou Luchen’s side.

She didn’t know how long she had slept.

The swan-down duvet was soft and cool to the touch. Shen Jing woke up in an unfamiliar bed. Her vision was dim, and the air conditioning was turned down very low, making the room quite cold.

She got up, pushed aside the duvet, and stepped onto the floor.

When she opened the room’s door, she was met with the sight of a spacious hall. Beyond a partition lay an indoor swimming pool. The cold lighting was too harsh, making her rub her eyes.

When she opened them again, she saw a tall, impeccably dressed bodyguard standing ten meters away.

"Where is Zhou Luchen?"

The bodyguard’s face was expressionless. "Mr. Zhou is busy."

"Oh," Shen Jing acknowledged, finding a glass and pouring herself some water.

The bodyguard asked, "Miss Shen, would you like something to eat?"

Shen Jing glanced around at the opulent surroundings, which felt devoid of any worldly, lived-in atmosphere.

"Will he come back?"

The bodyguard shook his head. "I’m not privy to Mr. Zhou’s movements."

Shen Jing put down the water glass, her fingers tapping on the bar counter as her gaze drifted to the night view beyond the panoramic floor-to-ceiling windows.

A dazzling expanse of the city’s foreign concessions, lights blazing.

The man maintained his stern expression. "If you’re tired, you can stay here tonight."

Shen Jing listened in silence.

The bodyguard stayed with her for a few minutes, then left a piece of paper and a set of keys on the table.

"This is my contact information. If you need anything while you’re here, please notify me. If you don’t like it here, Mr. Zhou said you could also move into the Daoli Mansion. Here are the keys."

After speaking, the man walked past the foyer and departed swiftly and unobtrusively.

Shen Jing stared at the items on the coffee table, momentarily dazed.

An almost thousand-square-meter luxury flat, in the most expensive area of the district. Does Zhou Luchen usually live here?

Shen Jing wasn’t wearing shoes. She walked barefoot on the black carpet, wandering all over the apartment, but couldn’t find the kitchen.

Zhou Luchen probably never cooked here.

She was somewhat curious about Zhou Luchen’s life.

His preferences were simple: the decor was black, gray, and white. It was minimalist and low-key.

Yet the authentic, museum-collection-grade painting on the wall reeked of excessive luxury.

Did a playboy like him also appreciate paintings from the Macedonian Empire, thousands of years old?

Shen Jing crossed her arms, tilting her head up to admire the enormous ancient painting on the wall.

Brilliant golden inks depicted the Macedonian Dynasty’s evolution from an unrivaled power to its eventual decline and fall.

On the collector’s market, it was priceless.

RING!

Shen Jing snapped back to reality, not knowing where the sound had come from. It seemed pointless to buy such a huge house if no one was going to live in it.

It took her a while, following the sound, to find the landline.

It was the 24-hour housekeeping service. "Mr. Zhou, good evening. The chef we arranged has arrived at the door."

Shen Jing didn’t say anything. She hung up before going to open the door.

A young woman arrived, saying she was the chef, here to make her late-night congee and snacks.

She really had no appetite. After tasting a spoonful, she didn’t eat anymore.

「United Bank Branch President’s Office.」

The overseas meeting wasn’t over yet.

The assistant placed a glass of iced lemon water down and, maintaining a silent posture, stood to the side taking notes.

The meeting had been scheduled for eight o’clock, yet Mr. Xiaozhou had again dragged it out until twelve.

There was a time difference for the closing of overseas and domestic stock markets, but this Mr. Zhou never followed routines. Even though he didn’t play by the rules, it was undeniable that his work capability far surpassed his father’s.

The overseas executives even euphemistically put it: "Mr. Zhou is just being considerate of the overseas time difference and showing compassion for his subordinates."

Midway through the meeting, Zhou Luchen reached for the tablet. His eyelids slightly lowered as he swiped the screen.

On the surveillance footage, the beauty was lazily nestled on the sofa watching a movie. She was wearing his white shirt, its large size draping over her delicate frame, making her look incredibly slender.

Perhaps having just emerged from a bath, her skin, flushed a tender pink from the warm water, looked both pure and seductive.

After a moment, she stuck her tongue out at the camera, her lips moving as if to say, ’You’re watching me, Zhou Luchen.’

Coquettishly.

She enjoyed seducing him, whether intentionally or unintentionally.

It wasn’t without reason that Wei Sulin often said, "That little vixen of yours."

Zhou Luchen admitted he entertained thoughts of keeping Shen Jing as a mistress.

Limited only to that kind of relationship.

When she initially refused the card, any lingering thoughts he might have had about her vanished. There was no compelling reason it had to be her.

If she had wanted something else—money or power—that would have been easy to discuss; he could afford to give it.

Talk about feelings? Where would feelings even come from?

Zhou Luchen tossed the tablet aside and said coldly to the computer, "Meeting adjourned."

The numerous overseas executives on the other end of the call chorused, "Yes, Mr. Zhou."

Seeing him stand up, his bodyguard picked up his suit jacket and followed.

"Will you be going to Miss Shen’s place or Night Mansion?"

Zhou Luchen glanced at his wristwatch. "Night Mansion."

It was a luxurious six-story villa.

Zhou Luchen walked past the lawn and headed straight for the backyard garden.

Zhuang Ming was his personal bodyguard. He had been with Zhou Luchen for several years after retiring from military service.

As the dawn light broke, Zhou Luchen sat down on the hongtan chair, stretched out his long legs, picked up the feed container, and began pouring its contents into the Carp Pond.

Zhuang Ming watched the red carp in the pond swarming to compete for food. He said, "Miss Shen is returning to Su City. She mentioned she has work at twelve. If you’re looking for her, you could go to the Hongtan Teahouse to listen to Pingtan. She said you would be welcome anytime."

Zhou Luchen didn’t respond, focusing on feeding the koi in the pond.

The cellphone on the tea table lit up.

He slowly turned his gaze to it.

Shen Jing’s message: "I’ve gone back. I didn’t have anything to wear after my shower, so I took the liberty of wearing your shirt. I’ve already washed it and put it away for you."

Zhou Luchen put down the feed container, picked up his phone, and typed: "Mm."

On Shen Jing’s end, the corners of her mouth twitched.

Just an ’Mm.’? He didn’t even need to reply with that. Couldn’t he have typed a few more words?

Still, Shen Jing texted back: "You want to keep a mistress, just a transactional relationship, is that it?"

After sending it, she thought, What a pointless question. It was glaringly obvious he didn’t want to discuss feelings. What could she do about him anyway?

He was a master at playing games of ambiguity. In his world, love didn’t exist—only what value you held after he weighed the pros and cons, and what he would dispense accordingly.

Shen Jing walked to the entryway and changed into her own shoes. She swept her gaze around the room; it was so vast it was hard to imagine, requiring several circuits just to find the kitchen.

This extravagant Jinwu... wasn’t it enough to make one’s head spin?

Even the keys to the foreign-style house at Daoli Mansion were laid out on the coffee table for her to choose.

It was just as Liang Yingning had said: "Zhou Luchen? Who is he? The sole son of the Zhou family—spoiled, autocratic, powerful, and influential. Even women with serious tricks up their sleeves can’t handle him. You, who don’t have any such ’tricks,’ are truly in a precarious position."

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