Volume One, Chapter One: Take a Seat
“Lin, haven’t you gotten intimate with Shen Zhao yet?”
“Too dirty, don’t want to touch it.”
In the smoke-filled private room, Zhou Lin lounged lazily against the wine-red sofa, his peach blossom eyes both seductive and playful, a slight smirk teasing at the corner of his mouth.
Shen Zhao stood at the door, chilled to the bone.
Someone noticed her. “Shen Zhao?!”
The smile on Zhou Lin’s face faded, his brows furrowing slightly as he rose from the sofa.
Taking a long stride, he stood before Shen Zhao, his expression calm as if he weren’t the one who just called her dirty.
“Who told you to come here?” Zhou Lin asked.
Shen Zhao raised her hand and slapped Zhou Lin’s dangerously handsome, almost bewitching face.
Zhou Lin narrowed his eyes, radiating menace.
“Zhou Lin, we’re breaking up.”
Zhou Lin frowned. “Making a scene again?”
The palm that just struck him tingled painfully, the ache piercing her heart. Holding back tears, Shen Zhao turned and left without looking back.
Zhou Lin didn’t follow.
Shen Zhao knew well he wouldn’t.
Zhou Er, heir to one of Beijing’s top aristocratic families, notorious for his wild, heartless ways and prideful arrogance, would never chase after a “bootlicker” girlfriend like her.
Drowning her sorrows at a bar, Shen Zhao ordered seventeen male models.
During her three-year relationship with Zhou Lin, he’d been caught with exactly eleven primary and five backup ambiguous partners—like assembling a standard women’s soccer team.
As for the extra one, he had recently left a used condom in Zhou Lin’s car and had successfully climbed the ranks to become the team’s coach.
If Zhou Lin could assemble a soccer team, so could she.
But when it came to paying, Shen Zhao winced a little.
The male models were sweet-talking and handsome; intoxicated, Shen Zhao emerged from the restroom and grabbed the most visually appealing one, pressing him against the wall and tiptoeing to kiss his lips.
His lips were soft but icy cold.
The suit was chilling, radiating a deep frost.
Shen Zhao shivered inexplicably.
Her shimmering eyes widened slightly as she recognized a face bearing a striking resemblance to Zhou Lin’s—about thirty percent similarity—which sobered her considerably.
“President Zhou, Zhou Huai Xu.”
Zhou Lin’s elder brother.
The legitimate heir of the Zhou family, a legendary figure in Beijing’s financial investment world, who had taken over the renowned multinational investment group Huaze under the Zhou name before turning thirty.
And also her boss.
What made things worse was that a week ago, Shen Zhao had mistakenly sent some intimate photos intended for Zhou Lin to Zhou Huai Xu instead.
It was Zhou Huai Xu’s work WeChat. She recalled the message quickly and could only silently pray he hadn’t seen them.
Until yesterday.
Zhou Huai Xu hadn’t replied at all.
Meanwhile, Shen Zhao discovered Zhou Lin had gotten physical with another woman in his car.
“President Zhou, sorry, I mistook the person.”
Zhou Huai Xu studied her calmly for two seconds. “Fighting with Zhou Lin?”
“We broke up.”
Today, Shen Zhao wore a pink slip dress, radiant but tasteful, with clear, bright eyes and a pure voice—like a peach about to bloom.
Hard not to attract attention.
Zhou Huai Xu’s gaze casually returned to her face, clear and devoid of any lewdness.
His ascetic demeanor only made Shen Zhao feel more promiscuous, as if she had defiled something sacred.
She couldn’t bear to stay any longer.
Hurriedly leaving the bar, she walked to the street where a low-key yet luxurious black sedan pulled up.
Shen Zhao recognized it immediately—at least a seven-figure price tag, limited edition, unattainable with money alone.
The window rolled down, revealing Zhou Huai Xu’s top-tier handsome face, with Eastern skin and Western bone structure.
“Get in.”
His voice was cold and commanding.
Shen Zhao hesitated, wanting to refuse, but the overwhelming pressure Zhou Huai Xu exuded, coupled with him being her boss, left her no choice.
The car stopped beneath her apartment building.
“Thank you, President Zhou.”
Zhou Huai Xu’s bony fingers tapped the steering wheel lightly, his expression indifferent. “The photos were well taken.”
Shen Zhao’s face flushed crimson.
She wished she could disappear into a crack in the car.
Zhou Huai Xu glanced sideways, his eyes tracing the redness of her face.
Those photos were artfully done—suggestive but not explicit, with a hazy allure that overlapped with the current Shen Zhao.
He hooked a finger on his tie and tugged it casually.
“President Zhou, I sent that photo to you by mistake. Could you please delete it?”
“Want me to show them to Zhou Lin?” Zhou Huai Xu asked.
Shen Zhao remained silent.
“Deleting it is fine,” Zhou Huai Xu said coolly, “but get in yourself.”
His nonchalant, unruffled demeanor gave Shen Zhao the illusion that he was merely commenting on the nice weather.
“President Zhou, I’m not—”
Zhou Huai Xu’s dark eyes were deep and unwavering as he sneered, “Don’t pretend.”
Shen Zhao was speechless.
She had indeed boarded the car with that intention—Zhou Huai Xu was Zhou Lin’s elder brother, and she had been the titular ‘other woman’ for three years. To say she didn’t want revenge was a lie.
Yet facing Zhou Huai Xu in person, she couldn’t help but feel intimidated.
A flash of impatience crossed Zhou Huai Xu’s calm face. His thin lips moved slightly. Summoning her courage, Shen Zhao leaned in and surrendered herself.
Her phone lit up—an incoming call from Zhou Lin.
Zhou Huai Xu held her waist firmly, pressing her back against the steering wheel.
The ringtone was urgent. Shen Zhao reached out to hang up, but Zhou Huai Xu gripped her slender neck, forcing her to lower her head and kiss him.
When it was over, Shen Zhao lay weakly in Zhou Huai Xu’s arms.
The man’s black shirt was unbuttoned at the collar, revealing a collarbone glistening with faint sweat. Compared to Shen Zhao’s disheveled, soaked dress, it was as if nothing had happened at all.
Calm and noble, Zhou Huai Xu pulled out a tissue and gently wiped the places she had soiled.
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