Meng Shuyao’s whole body went taut, and she hurriedly explained, “I didn’t hear anything. I really didn’t do it on purpose, sir.”
Pei Yuzhou raised a hand, brought the cigar to his lips, and took a drag. “What’s your name?”
Meng Shuyao’s heart clenched. Was he going to settle accounts with her?
Surely not. She really hadn’t heard anything, and besides, they had only talked for a few minutes in total.
Her thoughts spun in a thousand directions, leaving her cramped with unease.
In the end, she answered honestly, “…Meng Shuyao.”
Pei Yuzhou held the cigar between his fingers and tapped it lightly against the ashtray without saying a word.
Meng Shuyao had no idea what he meant. Her heart was in her throat. “Sir, please don’t hold it against me.”
Pei Yuzhou gave a soft snort through his nose. “With so little courage, you still dare to learn from others and eavesdrop.”
“I wasn’t…” Meng Shuyao instinctively wanted to refute him, but found herself with no way to explain.
If she said she had only lingered a few extra minutes because his voice sounded pleasant, would he believe her?
The assistant beside him had just received a message and reminded Pei Yuzhou in a low voice, “Sir, the helicopter has arrived.”
Pei Yuzhou tossed down the half-finished cigar, rose, and strode away.
The assistant quickly followed.
Meng Shuyao watched those two figures from behind and let out a long breath of relief.
Thankfully, he hadn’t pursued it.
Perhaps he had something important to attend to and had no time to pursue it.
That man looked far too dangerous, as if he were born to stand above others—cold, distant, noble beyond reach.
Someone whom the Johnson family treated as an honored guest was certainly no ordinary person.
Meng Shuyao took a while to compose herself, then returned to the banquet hall and found a corner to stay in by herself.
Meng Zhenhua was busy making connections with business partners and had no time to bother with her at all.
In Bincheng, Meng Corporation could be considered a prominent, well-known enterprise, but here, surrounded by industry magnates and distinguished families, Meng Zhenhua only had the right to thicken his skin and curry favor.
The world of fame and profit was nothing but a game between capital. Whoever had the ability had the greater say.
That man just now was probably someone standing at the very top of the pyramid.
By the time the banquet ended, it was already nine at night.
Meng Zhenhua had drunk quite a bit. His face was flushed, and he reeked of alcohol. As soon as he got into the car, he leaned back against the seat and closed his eyes to rest.
The car drove back to the city, a journey of one hour.
Meng Shuyao had to return to school; she still had an early class tomorrow.
At this hour, there were few cars and pedestrians on the road, and the drive was smooth.
The black SUV slowly stopped across the street from the school.
“Miss, we’re here,” the driver reminded her.
“All right.” Meng Shuyao picked up her bag and reached out to open the door.
Meng Zhenhua opened his eyes, suppressing his drunkenness, his voice slightly muddied. “I’m returning to China tomorrow. Behave yourself while you’re here.”
He continued to pressure her. “Also, think carefully about what I said to you. As for Allen’s side, you know what you should do.”
Meng Shuyao tightened her grip on the chain of her bag, lowered her eyes, and said obediently, “I understand, Dad.”
After returning to the dorm, she casually tossed her bag onto the bed, pulled out her chair, sat down, and sprawled wearily over the desk. It felt as if something were pressing against her chest, making it hard to breathe.
What should she do? Compromise again? Obediently listen and become the family’s puppet?
But she didn’t want to be controlled by others for the rest of her life. That wasn’t the life she wanted.
“Buzz, buzz—”
A WeChat message came in.
Her friend Winnie asked her: “Yaoyao, are you back at school?”
Meng Shuyao sat up and typed a reply: “Just got to the dorm.”
Winnie pried for gossip: “Was the banquet fun? Did you meet any new handsome guys?”
Meng Shuyao leaned back in her chair. That deep, hard-featured face flashed through her mind. His looks were indeed top-tier, but he was also genuinely terrifying.
She only replied to the first question: “It was boring.”
Winnie: “All right, then sleep early. See you tomorrow.”
Meng Shuyao: “Mm.”
She put down her phone and went to the wardrobe to find her pajamas before taking a shower.
-
At seven in the morning, Meng Shuyao woke to the sound of her alarm, got up, washed, and got ready.
Before going out, she put on a simple base layer of makeup to cover the bluish shadows under her eyes.
Last night, she had been unable to sleep until two in the morning. After finally falling asleep, she had kept dreaming, and the quality of her sleep had been terrible.
The first class in the morning was art history theory, and the content was rather dull and tedious.
The lecturer was an old professor with a rigid personality and a flat tone. Every word he uttered seemed to automatically transform into a hypnotic symbol.
Meng Shuyao yawned twice in a row, physiological tears welling at the corners of her eyes.
Winnie, who was sitting beside her, found it incredibly novel. She leaned over and asked in a whisper, “First time I’ve ever seen you get sleepy in class. Were you out stealing last night?”
“I didn’t sleep well.” She picked up the coffee beside her and took a sip to wake herself up.
She had a full day of classes and relied on coffee to stay alive.
After finally holding out until five-thirty in the afternoon, Winnie stretched. Her stomach was already growling. “Let’s go eat together. I’m starving.”
Meng Shuyao packed up her palette as she said, “I won’t go. I still have to make a trip to the exhibition.”
She had taken a part-time job; on the opening day, she would be responsible for serving as a guide, so she had to familiarize herself with all the works in advance.
Winnie sighed. “Do you have to work this hard? It’s not like your family lacks money. You’re making me look like I’m just slacking off.”
Meng Shuyao asked, “Do you know the difference between your dad having money and your mom having money?”
Winnie was also someone who kept up with the internet and had watched plenty of Romance in the Rain growing up. “So your dad is Lu Zhenhua?”
Meng Shuyao tugged at the corners of her lips and smiled helplessly. “Yes, more or less.”
What a coincidence. Even their names only differed by one character.
She actually envied Winnie quite a bit. An only daughter, with a mother who ran her own company and earned her own money. Although they couldn’t be considered very wealthy, they were still a middle-class family with good financial conditions, and she didn’t lack love. How could such a life not go smoothly?
Meng Shuyao quickly packed up her things. “Enough about that. I’m leaving first. Bye.”
Winnie waved. “All right, good luck.”
-
Meng Shuyao was busy for the entire week. She had almost no time for entertainment or relaxation. Aside from attending classes and completing assignments, she was preparing the commentary for the exhibition.
She had taken this part-time job not only for the money, but more because among the works being exhibited this time were paintings she liked very much. If she was lucky, she might even get to meet the artist herself.
Unfortunately, two days before the exhibition opened, she got herself sick with a cold. Her throat felt uncomfortable, and she kept coughing.
Of all times to catch a cold, it had to be now.
Meng Shuyao silently cursed herself for being so useless and hurried to the pharmacy to buy cold medicine.
Fortunately, it wasn’t serious, and she had no other symptoms.
On the day of the exhibition, she left early, had breakfast, and took a taxi to the gallery.
At eight o’clock, the staff gathered, and the curator assigned tasks, each person taking their own responsibilities.
The leadership attached great importance to this exhibition. All the works on display were by renowned painters.
Ms. Casa was an artist Meng Shuyao greatly admired, a famous master of portraiture who excelled at capturing micro-expressions and conveying a subject’s emotions through delicate brushwork.
Her representative work, Looking Back, had once won an art award and portrayed a very charismatic woman.
In the painting, the woman wore a light-colored dress and sat on a park bench. Behind her was a vast cluster of blooming hydrangeas, vivid and luxuriant.
She turned slightly to look back. Though the corners of her lips were lifted, there was an inescapable melancholy in her eyes.
Meng Shuyao examined the painting up close.
Those eyes were very beautiful, with gray-green pupils, like a lake.
She couldn’t help but think of that gentleman from last time. He also had a pair of deep, mesmerizing green eyes.
Such outstanding looks were difficult not to leave a lasting impression.
Before the gallery opened, the curator suddenly said to her, “This painting has already been bought by a guest. Someone should come to take it away this afternoon. When the time comes, let me know. I’ll personally receive them.”
Meng Shuyao was puzzled. “Wasn’t it not for sale?”
She had heard that this was Ms. Casa’s favorite work, as well as the piece that had made her famous. Previously, whenever anyone had offered a high price to buy it, she had refused without exception.
The curator said, “That’s not something you need to worry about. The artist herself has already agreed.”