Volume 1 Chapter 2 How Much Longer Will You Hold Me?

Under normal circumstances, Shen Zhao would not have dared to defy Zhou Huaixu, not even if she had ten thousand lives.

However, once a man and a woman have crossed the line into physical intimacy, a certain subtle closeness inevitably follows, however strange it may be. After all, strictly speaking, this was a feeling Shen Zhao harbored entirely on her own. Even so, she gritted her teeth and remained nestled in Zhou Huaixu’s arms, refusing to budge.

Zhou Huaixu took her bag from the passenger seat with his right hand and placed his left on the door handle, intending to toss both the bag and the woman out of the car.

*Knock, knock.*

Outside the car, separated by the dark window tint, Zhou Lin’s sharp, fierce expression was colder than the night air.

Catching sight of him, Shen Zhao tightened her grip on Zhou Huaixu’s shirt and looked up, pleading silently, "No."

Zhou Huaixu’s left fingers flickered, and he pressed the window button. Panic-stricken, Shen Zhao buried her face into the crook of his neck. Simultaneously, Zhou Huaixu shifted his right hand, his long, defined fingers pulling the suit jacket from the back seat and draping it casually over Shen Zhao, covering her completely.

The window rolled down slowly.

Zhou Lin looked down, a flash of shock crossing his peach-blossom eyes. Zhou Huaixu was holding a woman; she was draped in his jacket, a small figure huddled tightly against him.

Zhou Lin smelled the air inside the car and frowned. "Brother, why are you here?"

"Business," Zhou Huaixu replied.

The air grew heavy; the atmosphere froze.

Zhou Lin looked at him in disbelief. "Didn't you just break up with Su Zhili last week? Brother, you wouldn't even touch a single finger of hers, yet you're sleeping with this kind of low-class woman out here?"

Shen Zhao, pressed against Zhou Huaixu’s chest, trembled slightly.

Feeling the warmth of her tears against his neck, Zhou Huaixu recalled her naive, inexperienced demeanor from earlier. He lifted his eyelids to glance at Zhou Lin, his voice calm. "Your girlfriend—your family won't approve of her."

Zhou Lin paused, then curled his lip. "I'm just playing around."

"As long as you know what you're doing," Zhou Huaixu said.

With that, he rolled up the window.

Zhou Lin turned and walked away, but he did not leave the area; he returned to lean against another Cayenne, clearly intending to keep watch.

Zhou Huaixu looked down at the person in his arms, his voice cold. "How much longer do you intend to hold on?"

The impatience and disdain were palpable.

Shen Zhao climbed back into the passenger seat. Her eyes were redder than they had been when she had lost herself in his arms, and she looked utterly dejected.

"Not getting out?" Zhou Huaixu asked.

Shen Zhao remained silent.

Zhou Huaixu started the car, holding the steering wheel with one hand. "Don't regret this," he said calmly.

***

Shen Zhao was in a state of intermittent deafness, unable to hear a single word. Her eyes were swollen and red, with crystalline, bean-sized tears hanging from her lashes. She tried her best to hold them back, but in the end, she couldn't stop them from rolling down her flushed cheeks and landing on the back of her hand.

Zhou Huaixu drove to a hotel. Shen Zhao was still wrapped in his suit jacket, which carried a faint scent of tobacco. Her dress was torn beyond repair, so she had no choice but to tighten the jacket around her and follow him upstairs.

Once inside the suite, Zhou Huaixu pressed her against the sofa. Then, by the floor-to-ceiling window, they were intimate twice more.

Afterward, Zhou Huaixu looked at Shen Zhao, who was huddled on the sofa, his eyes clear and detached. "You can sleep here tonight."

Shen Zhao knew full well that by "here," he meant the sofa. Zhou Huaixu was a man who drew a sharp line between business and intimacy; no matter how heated things got, once it was over, he reverted to that indifferent, distant posture, not touching her even with a fingertip.

Dragging her exhausted body and spirit, Shen Zhao went into the bathroom to wash up. When she returned to the sofa, she realized there were no blankets. She searched everywhere but couldn't find one, so she had to grit her teeth and knock on Zhou Huaixu's bedroom door.

"Mr. Zhou, there are no extra blankets in the cupboard outside. Do you have any in your room?"

No response.

She heard the sound of water. She figured Zhou Huaixu was in the shower; if she slipped in now, he wouldn't know. Shen Zhao pressed the door handle and pushed it open. Sure enough, there were spare blankets in the bedroom closet. She quickly bent down to grab one, but as she turned around, she locked eyes with Zhou Huaixu, who had just stepped out of the bathroom.

He was wearing only a towel around his waist. His muscle definition was tight and perfect, his skin fair, making the scratch marks and hickeys Shen Zhao had left behind all the more prominent.

Zhou Huaixu’s brows furrowed slightly. "Who told you to come in?" he asked coldly.

"There were no blankets outside," Shen Zhao explained.

"Get out."

...

She slunk away with the blanket and lay back on the sofa, letting out a long sigh. Before tonight, she, like everyone else, must have thought Zhou Huaixu was sacred and unattainable—a man of icy self-restraint, existing like a god. To even touch him felt like a desecration.

But now, she only felt that the man was cold to his very marrow. He was practically a psychopathic "hit-it-and-quit-it" type.

When she woke the next day, the sun was already high in the sky, well past office hours. She was alone in the room. If not for the clean clothes left on the table, Shen Zhao might have mistaken the entire night for a nightmare.

***

The pervert at least had some manners, she thought—he knew to compensate her with clothes.

After a quick wash and some makeup, Shen Zhao hurried to her company. Just as she reached the revolving doors of the office building, the driver's door of a Cayenne opened, and Zhou Lin walked toward her, his expression grim.

"Zhaozhao."

His eyes were bloodshot, and he smelled heavily of cigarettes. His voice, calling her nickname, was raspy with exhaustion.

Shen Zhao met his dark eyes. For a moment, her heart ached, but she quickly averted her gaze and walked toward the Huaze building.

Zhou Lin grabbed her wrist, worry hidden in his peach-blossom eyes. "I waited outside your place all night. Where the hell did you go?"

Shen Zhao didn't look at him. "Does that have anything to do with you?"

Zhou Lin’s jawline tightened, his lips pressed into a thin line. "I don't accept this breakup."

He gripped her wrist tighter. "If you're angry because of what you heard yesterday, I apologize. I'm sorry, Zhaozhao."

"There's nothing to apologize for. I'm not worthy, and I don't need it," Shen Zhao said, looking down, her voice calm. "Our social standings are too far apart; it was never going to work out in the end anyway."

She turned to leave, but Zhou Lin wouldn't let go. During the struggle, the collar of her shirt slipped down a few centimeters, revealing a shocking hickey on her collarbone.

Zhou Lin froze. A look of violence flared in his dark eyes, and they turned even redder. "You found another man?"

Shen Zhao trembled for no reason. The image of Zhou Huaixu’s cold, unfeeling face flashed through her mind. She took a breath and steadied herself. "Zhou Lin, we've broken up. Who I see has nothing to do with you."

"Is that why you broke up with me? For this man?" Zhou Lin demanded. "Shen Zhao, are you cheating on me?"

Zhou Lin pressed closer, and several passersby at the company entrance began to watch. Shen Zhao didn't want to cause a scene; she just wanted to escape. "I just picked up a random male model!" she blurted out. "Zhou Lin, just let me go. I'm not worthy of being with you."

Zhou Lin was a playboy, fickle and promiscuous by nature. But he was not stupid.

He sneered. "Shen Zhao, do you know that your ears turn red whenever you lie? You can't even fool anyone—you're going to tell me you hired a gigolo?"

As the words left his lips, footsteps sounded from behind them.

Zhou Huaixu appeared, dressed in a sharp, crisp suit, walking up the steps with long, steady strides. His indifferent gaze flickered briefly, landing on Shen Zhao’s collar before sweeping downward to her fair wrist, which was being held tight enough by Zhou Lin to leave bruises.