My Fiancé's Scandals Never End, So I Married His Uncle Instead-Chapter 39: What Boyfriends Are For

He had said, with a perfectly straight face, that he would like it.

Celia Sterling had taken him seriously.

It was a romantic art film set in the Republic of China era, filled with period elements like neon-lit dance halls and a veritable feast of elegant qipaos. Through stunning cinematography, the director told the epic story of a love affair between a songstress in Seraphina and the son of an old magnate—a romance born in the smoke of war and fated to end in separation.

She rarely watched films from the Republic of China era. Driven by a mix of curiosity and a desire to explore something new, she watched the screen intently. Every so often, she would turn to discuss a plot point or two with Silas Norwood.

Racking her brain, she deliberately chose topics she thought a man like Silas would appreciate:

"Silas, do you know much about the rickshaw culture of that time? That movie, *Rickshaw Boy*, left a deep impression on me..."

Silas: "Mm."

"Wow, The Elysian Hall back then was really a den of opulence. But the female lead and supporting actress spent so many years there without picking up the slightest jaded air. Silas, do you think that’s sociologically plausible...?"

Silas was silent for a moment. "There’s a certain probability."

Celia said, "Oh." She couldn’t tell if he was interested in her topics or not. After a pause, she steered the conversation toward his area of expertise:

"Then how about we analyze the male lead from a financial perspective?"

Silas: "..."

He reached out and gently placed a piece of caramel popcorn in her mouth. "Watch the movie. We can discuss it after it’s over."

Celia froze as he gently fed her. His long, elegant fingers brushed against her lips for just an instant before pulling away.

A faint blush bloomed at the tips of Celia’s ears. Thankfully, the theater was dark enough to hide it. After a moment of stunned silence, she nonchalantly returned her gaze to the screen and stopped trying to make conversation.

Silas, however, was watching her.

In the dim light, the glow from the screen illuminated her face. The girl was sitting very close to him. She seemed a little flustered, forcing a calm expression as she watched the movie. She would pop a couple of popcorn kernels into her mouth now and then, or take a few SLURPS of her soda through the straw...

It was such an ordinary scene, yet he watched her more intently than he did the film. In the faint light, his amber eyes barely left her, only shifting away impassively when she occasionally tilted her head to look at him.

More than halfway through the film, the tone of the music began to shift. The main characters were facing separation. Amidst the smoke of war and the torrent of a chaotic era, their love seemed like a fragile bubble, about to be burst by the times.

Silas finally pulled his attention back completely, his gaze landing quietly on the screen. The part he ’would like’ had arrived.

Celia hadn’t realized it yet.

The tragic yet beautiful separation of the main couple brought out her sentimental side. She let out a soft sigh.

"Silas, that’s just how it was back then. A missed chance was a lifetime of regret. It’s not like now, where you can reconnect from halfway across the world as long as you have each other’s number. I remember there was an award-winning art film last month that explored this very—"

Before she could finish, the despairing, tragic separation on screen transformed into a passionate, tangled embrace.

Celia: "..."

The film was incredibly bold. The sofa, the carpet, the bedroom, the bathroom, even the vanity... everything you could and couldn’t get past the censors was there, implied through clever camera angles and suggestive, half-hidden shots.

One minute.

Two minutes.

Celia finally started to squirm in her seat.

’Didn’t Quinn Sinclair say this was a clean film? That the bed scenes were less than ten seconds long?’

It had already been two minutes, and not only was it not over, but things were also escalating... getting hotter...

Celia had her wild side. She’d seen plenty of things hanging out with Kian Sterling and her "princess circle." They had even watched these kinds of "educational films" together at their gatherings, discussing them quite enthusiastically.

But watching it with her princess circle and watching it with Silas were two completely different things.

Even with her thick skin, her brain gloriously short-circuited. She pressed her lips together, not daring to look at Silas’s expression. She just lowered her head and chewed viciously on her straw. In her peripheral vision, she could only see the elegant hands resting on the black trousers of the man beside her, idly turning a shimmering thumb ring.

She braced herself, waiting for the intensely passionate scene to pass.

But five minutes passed, and not only did the scene not end, it hit a new level of intensity—

This could no longer be called art. It was a complete and total sacrifice *for* the sake of art.

The moment the male lead lifted the female lead onto the vanity, the artistic choreography, paired with the passionate music, made Celia squeeze her soda cup so hard that the drink spilled out!

A large, well-defined hand offered her a napkin, accompanied by Silas’s gentle voice. "Cece, are you all right?"

His voice was so steady it was almost placid, as if he were watching a mundane financial report that failed to stir any excitement in him. Celia looked up at him. It was the same coolly noble face, so proper it seemed incapable of a single impure thought.

’Just as expected,’ she thought. ’Even in a den of vice, the unattainable flower on the high peak remains just that...’

But this cool contrast, set against the film’s vivid and sensual scenes, only seemed to make the images she had been trying so hard to avoid even clearer.

Celia tugged lightly at her dress, feeling uncomfortable. "Silas, can... can we fast-forward?"

Silas fell silent for a moment, his voice growing even gentler. "If I make a call to ’fast-forward,’ the theater’s control room and management will all know that our dear Cece got shy watching a movie. Are you sure that’s what you want?"

’Sure? If word of this got back to the princess circle, those women would laugh her to death. She’d never be able to show her face at one of their gatherings again!’

"Ah, it’s nothing. Let’s just keep watching," Celia said, faking a nonchalant cough. "Watch the movie, watch the movie."

She said it was nothing.

But even in the dim light, her ears and neck were flushed red from the film’s stimulation. She bit her lip, so embarrassed that her eyes grew moist.

The movie itself didn’t do much for Silas, but the sight of Celia in this state had an indescribable impact on him.

His eyes, hidden in the darkness, swirled with a turbulent undercurrent, yet his tone remained perfectly calm. "Cece."

Celia answered reflexively, "Hm?"

Silas’s voice was extremely low. "If you can’t take it, you can make use of me. I am your boyfriend, after all."

Celia’s face turned beet red. "H-How would I use you...?"

Silas leaned closer to her, his voice a mere whisper, his narrow eyes holding a bewitching glint. "What do you think, Cece?"

Celia stammered, "Isn’t this... a bit too fast...?"

Silas watched her, his expression inscrutable.

One second, two seconds, three seconds.

His large, cool hand gently covered Celia’s eyes. His voice was perfectly proper. "This is how I meant. What were you thinking, Cece?"

Celia said nothing.

With her eyes covered by Silas’s hand, the stimulating images from the movie vanished. But the loss of sight heightened her other senses. Silas’s cool, clean scent shot straight to her nose. Because he was so close, his breath was a distinct presence, curling around her neck. Celia’s heart skipped several beats.

’So *that’s* what he meant by using him.’