A Twisted Love Affair-Chapter 210: Lonely Degeneration_1

Shen Jing, when tired, would flip through her old social media accounts. The number of her followers had neither increased nor decreased. She hadn’t deleted the photos of Yunding’s house or Yunding’s cat. Even the candid shots of Zhou Luchen’s hand and suit jacket were still in her videos.

Her days passed, ordinary and plain. She was alone, without worries, spending money and swiping her card, occasionally splurging a whole 1,800.

It was a pity that the price of these stockings had suddenly gone up.

Up to 2,200.

In June, there was a closed-door financial regulation seminar. Shen Jing finally managed to get a ticket and went abroad to New York. She focused on her studies and, naturally, did not encounter the so-called president of United Bank.

She was in Upper Town, while United Bank was in downtown Manhattan, the world’s most expensive land.

She didn’t expect anything, but tragically, as she walked alone, she was followed. Alert, she turned her head. A tall, imposing figure shot her an ill-intentioned, sinister smile. Scared, she walked faster, and the vagrant sped up as well.

Fortunately, she came across a taxi and quickly got in.

Glancing behind her, she saw the vagrant giving her the middle finger.

Shen Jing let out a relieved snort, dainty and delicate.

Unexpectedly, the driver was an overseas Chinese. He caught a glimpse of her action and laughed, "Next time this happens, go into a store for help. And don’t pity those panhandlers; they’re all faking it and are insatiably greedy."

She nodded, "MHM."

It wasn’t that Shen Jing didn’t understand these things. It was just that her appearance was deceptive, making her seem easy to bully. For instance, when she encountered the vagrant, her eyes looked as if she might cry. Seeing this, the driver had kindly offered his advice.

Shen Jing returned to her hotel, and the next day, flew back to her country.

This city was not suited for someone like her. It was a place of two extremes: one side a bustling financial center, the other, the strong looking down upon the weak.

「On the other side of New York.」

The weather was drizzly and overcast. By the lake in Brooklyn Park, two minimalist chairs and two fishing rods had been set up.

Joanna sat next to Zhou Luchen, neither too far nor too close.

None of the caught fish can be taken home. I don’t understand why he always likes to come here to fish.

Joanna didn’t speak Chinese, so she could only converse with him in a foreign language. "The president’s fiancée ran away."

Zhou Luchen wasn’t in the habit of answering every question, even when he dominated the conversation. If he didn’t want to reply, he simply wouldn’t.

"Do you know, the media says it’s because of the young model Joanna that you broke off your engagement? I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry when I read that. They really have quite the imagination for making up stories."

"It’s just as well you didn’t marry her. She really wasn’t right for you. It seemed she no longer loved you, and a future with her would have only been hardship."

Zhou Luchen never answered these kinds of questions, instead leisurely asking, "How did your competition go?"

"Guess," Joanna leaned closer, smiling faintly.

Her red lips were tempting. The beauty of a Western woman was expressive and overt; even her smile was fiery.

Zhou Luchen had no interest in guessing, leaning back in his chair, waiting for a bite.

He never expressed his true emotions. He would just occasionally look at someone with a smile, capable of conjuring a look of deep affection for anyone.

He was lonely and unhappy, descending into a solitary kind of dejection.

Joanna had known Zhou Luchen for a long time. They were nothing special, just friends who occasionally accompanied him to fish and chat.

This had also been enough to greatly irritate his fiancée, who was always trying to investigate Joanna’s identity.

Joanna wouldn’t boldly approach him. No matter how open the society, she was keenly aware of the boundaries the man before her expected. The media was far too good at spinning tales out of nothing.

"Why do you like fishing?"

Zhou Luchen liked to give perfunctory answers. "It builds patience."

Joanna sized him up. "I think you are already very patient."

He laughed. "I am not."

Joanna couldn’t grasp his meaning and could only respond with a smile.

She watched him. He was a man who emanated even more masculine allure than Western men. His features weren’t coarse but rather chiseled and profound, refined by time and experience. He possessed a seasoned wisdom unusual for his age.

I’m genuinely curious about where the White Begonia picture in his phone came from.

It flourished in a square, classic Chinese courtyard under a light snowfall. The begonias were truly beautiful—a cross-cultural beauty I’d never seen before.

Joanna asked.

Zhou Luchen didn’t reply, just smiled and let it pass.

Maybe it was from his family home.

That day, he again got a lecture from his father, remaining silent as always, enduring the accusations from the other end of the phone.

Joanna didn’t know what mistakes he’d made. He, however, seemed completely unconcerned about his faults and looked as if he was on the verge of tossing his phone into the lake.

Joanna consoled him, "You are already excellent. Don’t take your father’s words to heart."

Zhou Luchen put away his fishing rod and handed it to Zhuang Ming. Slowly, he leaned towards Joanna’s ear and, with a lazy chuckle, said, "I am not good at all. Are you afraid I’ll treat you badly?"

Joanna smiled as she watched his departing figure—as always, elegant and handsome. "I understand what you want and what you don’t."