A Twisted Love Affair-Chapter 212: Marry me, do you dare Zhou Luchen"_1

Shen Jing had interacted with Mr. Blaire for quite some time. It was only later that she discovered Mr. Blaire had always collaborated with United Bank. This was common knowledge in the financial sector, and Mr. Blaire would occasionally mention United Bank in his interviews. When Shen Jing searched external websites, she couldn’t find anything substantial.

Based on my understanding of Zhou Luchen, the answer is instantly clear.

Shen Jing asked Zhuang Ming, "Was Mr. Blaire arranged by you folks?"

Zhuang Ming replied via text, explaining, "The Second Young Master merely lent a hand; Miss Shen, please don’t feel pressured." His words were succinct.

Shen Jing replied, "Oh," then exited the chat.

How could I not know why he offered his help? For Zhou Luchen, it was nothing more than a casual gesture. Having been with me, he couldn’t bring himself to completely let go. He was just a bit reluctant to see me brave the business world alone—merely reluctant. Similarly, he couldn’t offer much, and even if he did something, he wouldn’t tell me, leaving me to search for clues and answers. Is this considered repaying a debt of gratitude? The thought made her lose focus for a few minutes.

Someone’s voice interrupted her thoughts, "Manager, we’re off work now."

Shen Jing picked up her coffee and merely uttered, "Mm."

It’s too cold; I don’t want to drink it.

Shen Jing poured it out, tossed the paper cup into the trash can, and took her car keys to leave.

The East Third Ring couldn’t compare to the West District. East for riches, West for power. The West District referred to the domain of families like Zhou and Song.

She had unconsciously wandered into the West District. This was Zhou Luchen’s favorite place in Beijing, the only area he liked to stroll through. Only when he occasionally tired of it would he head to the suburbs for gatherings or to roam.

At this moment, she truly understood: Mr. Blaire’s special trip to Beijing had been for her. Then, the Yongxin Fund introduced by Xie Qinyang must also be connected to Zhou Luchen. Dealing with the Cheng Family was my rightful due, but Zhou Luchen has gradually given too much; it’s becoming too heavy. As a beneficiary, I can’t remain indifferent. Yet, if I take more from Zhou Luchen, I’m afraid I won’t be able to resist flying to New York to join his downfall. After our breakup, things are still so tangled and unclear. Yes, what does he mean? Even a casual gesture born of a little guilt keeps me up at night.

The car stopped steadily at the entrance of the hutong.

She had only been to the Zhou Family home once, dining with his family just that single time. He hadn’t personally brought me; he never even once thought of bringing me home for a meal.

Shen Jing rested her head on the steering wheel, her face pressed against it. Glancing at the red walls and grand gates of the Imperial City Root, her inner defenses gradually crumbled.

Her fingers moved listlessly over her phone, dialing Zhou Luchen’s number. It’s 10 AM in Manhattan, peak meeting time for Zhou Luchen. I forgot the time difference, just rashly interrupting him.

The tallest landmark building in Manhattan, with layers of high-density armored security, exclusively housed the United Bank Headquarters. The President of United Bank had just concluded a decade-long venture in bond futures for global trade. He instructed his chief secretary in a soft, unhurried voice, "Change it to 2.86%."

The chief secretary respectfully noted, "Yes, Mr. President."

At that moment, the phone on the desk vibrated. Zhou Luchen glanced sideways; an unrecognized number met his eyes. He had an impression of this number; it felt familiar. He answered.

The reporting in the meeting paused. Everyone sat silently, heads bowed over their documents.

Shen Jing’s voice came from the other end, "Thank you."

In the solemn, silent conference room, the man in the black leather chair at the head of the table leaned back slightly, his voice a little hoarse. "What is it?"

"Nothing much. I just happened to pass by your house and wanted to say thanks."

She wasn’t good at making things up; the sentence was riddled with flaws. She lived in the East District, so what business did she have in the West District at midnight? And who did she know there?

Zhou Luchen smiled slowly, his voice gentle. "Mm."

Having said her thanks, she seemed to have nothing else to say. "The other day in New York, I was followed..."

Her words stopped abruptly. I really shouldn’t voice so many grievances in front of him, yet I want to tell him everything. Shen Jing was acting very strangely today.

Perhaps she really did have something to ask. Sensing this, Zhou Luchen’s voice was very low. "I know."

It’s so quiet. His voice is so hoarse, just like when I used to pester him to get up for lunch. His distinctively magnetic voice seems to brush against my ear, hazy like fog. Looking at the night view outside the car window, Shen Jing thought she might have disturbed his sleep. "Are you sleeping then? Am I bothering you?"

Their soft breathing passed through the receivers for a long moment. He remained calm. "I’m in a meeting." He paused, flipping a page of the company’s strategy document. "You’re not disturbing me."

Shen Jing vaguely recalled the time difference. "Oh, I forgot. I thought you were in bed, sleeping..."

But last night, Zhou Luchen indeed hadn’t slept. That didn’t stop him from being energetic enough to preside over the meeting on time this morning.

"In a meeting? It’s so quiet," she said, as if asking a rhetorical question.

Zhou Luchen said softly, "Go home early."

He’s busy; he’s about to hang up.

"Zhou Luchen, can you wait a moment?" Shen Jing blurted out, desperate to prolong the call.

Zhou Luchen didn’t hang up. A lukewarm "Mm?" came through the line.

A sudden silence. It stretched for a long time.

She spoke softly, as if using a lifetime’s accumulated courage. "Can I ask you a very presumptuous question?"

"Go ahead," he said.

"You’re always so good to me. Do you... do you want to..." Shen Jing pressed her other cheek against the steering wheel’s emblem—the three-pointed star felt cool against her skin—and asked jokingly, "Do you want to marry me?"

Friends had said it before, but this time, she was asking him directly. I want him to say the answer himself.

For a moment, Zhou Luchen’s eyes seemed to freeze. This potentate at the pinnacle of fame and fortune, with self-control honed into his very bones, regained his cool indifference in just two or three seconds.

She was a bit like those times she’d called him drunk, muddled and stubbornly demanding an answer: "Do you miss me, Zhou Luchen? Do you? Say it!"

"Have you been drinking again?"

Even though his tone was exceedingly indifferent, his evasiveness was clear; he was refusing to answer by not answering.

If he said yes, even just a little, I really would be willing to continue foolishly accepting his kindness and help. But the answer is so clear. Second Young Master Zhou wouldn’t, and he’s never even considered it.

Shen Jing didn’t show much distress; she greatly admired his honesty. "I haven’t been drinking. I’m very sober. I know the answer."

He said calmly, "Is there anything else?"

I do remember what he said in that dream at the temple: ’When looking for a man, don’t look for someone like me.’ I truly remember what I said to him that night.

Shen Jing’s lips curved into a gentle smile. "Nothing more. You’ve given me too much. For me, it’s already more than enough. I have no resentment towards you at all; it’s truly enough. If you give any more, how would this even conclude? I won’t disturb your work any longer."

After two minutes of silence, Zhou Luchen’s expression remained utterly unchanged—dignified, indifferent, serene—an almost tangible stillness.

He hung up the phone, picked up the fountain pen in front of him as if it had been an insignificant, passing call, uncapped it, and simply instructed the senior executives, "Continue the meeting."

Shen Jing turned off her phone. She sat in her car for a long time, looking at that stretch of hutong. I wonder what the Zhou Family is doing in that large courtyard beyond the weeping willows of Heba Bridge. I waited 21 months and 13 days, but I never heard Zhou Luchen say, ’Don’t go. The one I like is you.’ All I got was occasional care, help, and actions that seemed to say, ’I’ll support you.’ I stopped expecting long ago; I don’t even remember when it started.

Shen Jing started the car and slowly pressed the accelerator, driving away.

「Mid-Autumn Festival.」

She happened to learn that a theater in the neighboring province was staging a puppet show. Shen Jing bought a ticket and went alone. She watched in solitude; the audience consisted mainly of people over seventy and children around five years old.

Next to her sat a little girl, slightly younger, licking a lollipop. "Pretty sister, do you want some candy?" the girl asked.

The little girl’s soft hand offered her a milk-flavored lollipop. Shen Jing accepted it and exchanged it for one of her cookies.

"Thank you."

The little girl waved adorably, gesturing for Shen Jing to lean down. Shen Jing did so, and the girl whispered in her ear, "Sister, you look so absorbed. Do you like puppet shows too?"

Shen Jing smiled. "I’m just too bored."

The little girl blinked and smiled back. "I really like them! But it’s a pity they’re all controlled by someone else’s strings."

Perhaps because Shen Jing was a stranger, the little girl’s grandmother soon picked her up and carried her away. The cookie Shen Jing had given her was also taken by the grandmother, who pocketed it and scolded the child not to eat it.

Shen Jing unwrapped the lollipop and licked it, her gaze fixed on the puppet show on stage, returning to her quiet state.

After the puppet show ended, she took an overnight flight back to Beijing.

Looking at the Mid-Autumn Festival gifts delivered to her door, she had no interest in unwrapping them. It reminded her of when she was a low-level employee, delivering gift after gift to clients to maintain connections.

That night, she received a call with good news.

"Your older sister is at the hospital! The little baby has arrived!"

Shen Jing threw on a robe and got up, a smile blooming on her face. "Congratulations!"

Her older sister’s baby had arrived, born prematurely in September. Shen Jing couldn’t recall the weight, only the fierce crying—as if the baby owed her several buildings within the East Third Ring. The Xie Family had a new addition this year, and everyone in the Xie Family was so overjoyed they looked ready to throw a celebratory banquet on the spot.

The tiny baby girl was clinging to her brother-in-law, who was actually quite possessive and wouldn’t let anyone else hold her. Shen Jing watched with envy, sneaking glances at the child. Such a wrinkled little face, so tender. She looks more like my older sister, not stern-faced like my brother-in-law.

Seeing Shen Jing craning her neck to get closer, Xie Nan clutched his precious bundle even tighter, stammering, "Uh... um, you must be tired from work. For now... you don’t need to hold her. I’m the baby’s father; I can manage."

Shen Jing scoffed softly. Hmph, as if anyone doesn’t know he’s the father. No need to emphasize it so much. I just want to hold the little treasure my sister worked so hard to bring into this world.

Astute as ever, Xie Nan knew what Shen Jing was thinking. He clearly hadn’t held the baby enough and was still monopolizing her. "You’re tired. Sit down and have some water first."

Shen Jing shook her head obediently. "Brother-in-law, I’m not thirsty. I just want to hold the little treasure for a bit."

Xie Nan said, "Oh," and offered a gentle smile. "You’ll have to wait your turn. I’m going to hold her a little longer."