A Twisted Love Affair-Chapter 119: His infatuation (2)_1

So much money.

Shen Jing slowly brewed a pot of chrysanthemum tea. The moment she saw Zhuang Ming, she knew who the big spender outside was.

"The Second Master only has one hour. What do you say? Name your price," Zhuang Ming said.

One hour was just right; her back ached, and sitting for long was uncomfortable.

Shen Jing didn’t ask for an exorbitant fee. "Whatever the troupe leader charges is fine."

Zhuang Ming took a step forward, then stopped and looked at her. "He doesn’t drink chrysanthemum tea."

"My shop is humble; we only have chrysanthemum tea," Shen Jing said, carrying the teapot to the table. "He needs to cool down."

Zhuang Ming couldn’t understand. Zhou Luchen’s health was regularly checked and maintained by a family doctor. His diet was light, and he abstained from smoking and drinking; he was hardly the type to suffer from excessive internal heat.

Upstairs, her colleagues were joking around, packing up to leave work.

"We’re leaving now; the teahouse’s earnings are your responsibility now."

Shen Jing looked up and saw them off. "Take care, everyone."

It drew laughter from her colleagues. They all understood the situation with the wealthy young master who was here for her.

They had never seen that distinguished young master’s face. He was low-key, not fond of ostentation.

It was embarrassing for them to stay and watch.

This was the teahouse’s first time being privately booked.

Coming to the teahouse to listen to storytelling was customary for all guests. Regardless of Shen Jing’s previous resentment towards Zhou Luchen’s domineering possessiveness, it was now gone.

Zhou Luchen had booked the place just to listen for one hour.

Zhou Luchen, who usually commanded the wind and rain, today seemed somewhat infatuated with the desire to listen to storytelling.

After simply tidying her attire and hair, Shen Jing sat on the stage, holding her pipa, waiting for him.

As soon as Zhou Luchen entered, Zhuang Ming closed the teahouse’s main door.

No one else could come in to pry.

The light wasn’t too dim; the teahouse’s woven lamps cast a warm hue.

Zhou Luchen, in his impeccably clean suit, walked with a distinguished air. When he looked at her, his brow was as tranquil as still water. He took the main seat with the ease of a regular patron, every movement reflecting his noble status.

Shen Jing withdrew her gaze and lightly lifted her fingers to the strings.

Having generously booked the entire place and spent over a hundred thousand outside, she couldn’t let her lover lose out on this sum.

She always knew how to display her beauty and charm.

If he felt it was a loss, what if he decided not to book the place anymore?

When he came, it meant enough revenue to last a whole year.

Onstage, the beauty sat demurely in a black cheongsam with gold-thread bird embroidery, her long hair loosely gathered at the nape of her neck with a ribbon.

"Singing in the Misty Rain of Yangzhou."

The clear, level tones, savoring the soft Wu dialect, flowed gently into the ears, so tender.

Her charm resonated in the music from the strings, like a swaying mote of dust.

In the empty teahouse, there were only three people.

Below the stage, Zhou Luchen sampled the tea. He watched intently as her lips opened and closed, his index finger gracefully cupping the porcelain. The chrysanthemum tea was meant to clear internal heat. He took a small sip, found the taste unsuitable, and placed the cup back.

Shen Jing saw this, suddenly stopped playing, and looked down at the man below the stage, then at the cup of tea.

Her brows furrowed slightly.

She was angry; it was obvious.

Zhou Luchen merely lowered his head and chuckled, picking up the cup again.

Indeed.

To cool down.

A man free of material concerns, he was finicky. It wasn’t that he would complain about a cup of chrysanthemum tea, but its faint sweetness was not to his usual taste.

Seeing Zhou Luchen take up the cup again, Shen Jing resumed playing her pipa.

Zhuang Ming stood ramrod straight behind him, listening silently, his posture as rigidly formal as if he were a permanent fixture in a grand opera house.

"Would you like me to change the tea for you?" asked Zhuang Ming, bending forward.

Zhou Luchen’s fingers caressed the rim of the porcelain cup, and he asked in an inscrutable manner, "Do you understand it?"

Zhuang Ming wanted to say he didn’t understand, not wishing to displease the Second Master. So, what came out, diplomatically softened, was, "It’s very pleasant to hear."

Zhou Luchen said slowly, "Tell the truth."

"My apologies," Zhuang Ming replied, almost cautiously. "I don’t understand it either."

Many people admired Shen Jing, especially those from out of town who would make a special trip to Su City just for her.

Even if they didn’t understand the Suzhou dialect, they still found it beautiful.

Zhou Luchen supported his temple with his hand, feeling somewhat exhausted. He had been out at sea all night, hadn’t slept, and had a 9 a.m. joint meeting.

On stage, she sang in a soft and enchanting voice, "Mountains high and waters far, our love will never part."

These words, though in the Su dialect, were strangely understandable.

When Zhou Luchen looked at Shen Jing again, he slightly lifted the corners of his lips, his deep gaze fixed on her face.

Her cheeks were unexpectedly flushed a burning red, her eyes somewhat frantic.

Zhou Luchen’s smile deepened.

Zhuang Ming leaned over and whispered, "This verse, Zhuang Ming understands: mountains high and waters far, our love will never part; the rain gentle, affection lingering."

Her bluntness.

Filled with emotion.

Even though Zhou Luchen was listening intently, his expression remained as calm as a tranquil sea.

He was captivated, yet his mind remained clear.

When the performance ended, she rose from the stage and walked toward him.

After some time, the pot of chrysanthemum tea had cooled.

Shen Jing pushed it aside, leaning back against the edge of the table, her fingers lightly propping her up from behind.

Facing Zhou Luchen, she looked down at him, their gazes meeting.

Even though Zhou Luchen was sitting and she was standing, and he made no move, his innate superior stature still exuded a noble presence.

He appeared casual as he looked at her and asked, "Satisfied?"

Satisfied, indeed! The bonus for this month had multiplied several times over.

Shen Jing pretended to be unsatisfied, her voice dropping to a low ’hmm.’

Her expression and actions all indicated her satisfaction was feigned and perfunctory.

Zhou Luchen propped his cheek with his hand, examining her, the corners of his mouth slowly curving into a faintly teasing smile. "You little troublemaker."

Shen Jing shuffled her feet, her French vintage white shoes brushing against the man’s leather ones, toe grazing toe, her eyes shimmering with laughter like a pool of spring water.

The stoic Zhuang Ming turned his head away, pretending not to see, though it wasn’t clear what he was trying to avoid.

This girl beside the Second Young Master had always been the most mischievous of them all.

No one dared to test the Second Young Master’s temper repeatedly. If one touched his bottom line, he would cut them off, becoming cold and distant as if they had never met.

With him, being too obedient wouldn’t do; it was dull and uninteresting. But being disobedient was even worse; there was always a replacement.

Rather, it wasn’t about her having to meet all his expectations or cater to his every whim. If a man was genuinely fond of a woman, how could he not indulge her playful antics?

With the Second Young Master’s capabilities, even if she brought the heavens crashing down, it wouldn’t matter; he would shield her from all reproach, even divine.

Standing there, Shen Jing tilted her head and asked, "The money wasn’t wasted, right?"

Zhou Luchen sighed. "I’ll earn it back shortly."

No satisfactory answer.

He enjoyed himself, and now he’s acting displeased? Is he going to turn his back on this?

"How much did we spend today?" he asked Zhuang Ming.

Zhuang Ming was prepared. "240,000." ƒree𝑤ebnσvel-com

Zhou Luchen admired her as if viewing a priceless gem, his tone teasing as he said, "Two hundred forty thousand to see you once."

She whispered quietly, "Then close your eyes, and I’ll compensate you."

Zhou Luchen’s eyebrows slightly raised.

"You too, close your eyes, Zhuang Ming," Shen Jing added, "No peeking allowed."

Zhuang Ming shot a glance at his Second Young Master. Upon seeing his silent consent, Zhuang Ming had no choice but to close his eyes.

Zhou Luchen slowly closed his eyes. As he did, Shen Jing bent over, smiling as she appraised the exceptionally handsome face before her.

Beneath his dark, cropped hair, she carefully observed his thick eyebrows, long lashes, and high-bridged nose, before planting a kiss on his thin, firmly pressed lips.

Their lips met.

It even made a soft, furtive SMACK.

His lips were dampened.

Zhou Luchen’s brow furrowed deeply. Two hundred forty thousand for *this*?

Looking at him, Shen Jing commented, "You’re really not easily satisfied, are you?"