A Twisted Love Affair-Chapter 233: Scumbag with drunken eyes, as if lost in a fog of five miles_1

Chapter 233: Scumbag with drunken eyes, as if lost in a fog of five miles_1

「In the house.」

Before Shen Jing closed the door to her room, she stepped back out, only half of her head visible. "Qiyan, I tried, but it doesn’t seem like it will work."

Thus, Sun Qiyan had also tested her reaction.

She wasn’t ready. An impending kiss had completely shattered her resolve to be with him.

Sun Qiyan had anticipated all this.

To him, security only came from keeping the person he liked firmly in his grasp.

"I’ve known from the beginning," Sun Qiyan added. "Don’t dwell on what just happened. In front of you, sometimes I really can’t control myself."

How uncontrollable? Even more so when he saw Zhou Luchen.

「That night.」

Zhou Luchen was at a dinner party hosted by Qiao Site.

It was a discreet banquet held at his family farm with few guests, all of them friends. The occasion was to entertain the president of United Bank, who was visiting from abroad.

A private dinner party where the credo was ’money equals power.’

Qiao Site, naturally, played the gracious host. "Mr. Zhou, since your arrival in Manhattan, I’ve extended countless invitations. I started asking around Christmas, and only today have you finally deigned to visit."

Zhou Luchen remained quite nonchalant. "Busy with official matters."

Indeed. Zhou Luchen appeared both interested and disinterested, much like his usual self. He engaged in small talk as one glass of wine after another was poured, drinking a bit too much by the end of the night.

Zhuang Ming arrived to pick him up, driving the car.

Glancing into the rearview mirror, Zhuang Ming saw the man resting his cheek on his hand, eyes closed in repose.

Ever since the day he failed to bring Miss Shen back, Zhuang Ming had been walking on thin ice around Zhou Luchen, terrified of his temper. Yet, Zhou Luchen had remained quiet, burying himself in his work.

Of course, the Second Young Master hadn’t spoken a word to him either.

All those unwitting efforts and assistance, yet Sun Qiyan kept intermittently inserting himself into the situation.

The noble scion’s sunk costs, his attempts to cultivate that delicate flower, only to discover he had been fertilizing and watering it for another man—it was enough to fray every last nerve.

A wealthy scion’s investments could not be slighted.

Outside the car window, a farm flashed past. Shen Jing lived on this land, having moved here stealthily. While New York’s private residences boasted high security, investigating her whereabouts hadn’t been too difficult.

At four in the morning, it was pitch dark. Just as their car passed by, a light on the first floor of a nearby house suddenly switched on.

Zhou Luchen’s eyelids flickered open. He glanced out the window, catching the brief illumination, then said in an irritated tone, "Stop the car."

"Come over and open the door."

He was slightly tipsy and issued two commands.

Zhuang Ming complied. He unbuckled his seatbelt and was about to get out to open the door for him when the car door was already...

...kicked open by the man’s long leg. His leather shoes hit the ground, and he strode purposefully onto the farm.

「Shen Jing wasn’t sleeping well.」

Sun Qiyan’s words had left her tossing and turning. Her stomach felt empty, so she went to the kitchen to cook some noodles.

When the water boiled, Shen Jing added the pasta, stirring it with chopsticks.

Since Sun Qiyan often did the cooking, making noodles was the one thing she was good at.

Suddenly, there was a loud knocking.

BANG! BANG!

The knocking was extremely aggressive—loud and forceful.

It sounded as if some drunk had mistaken her house for theirs.

Being abroad, Shen Jing didn’t know many people, so she didn’t dare open the door carelessly. She peeked her head out the window, feeling a little panicked.

She saw Zhuang Ming standing outside. In the faint light of dawn, his towering, dark silhouette gave Shen Jing a start. "Zhuang Ming? What are you doing here so early in the morning, at my doorstep?"

Zhuang Ming remained expressionless. "The President got drunk tonight. My apologies for the trouble."

Shen Jing sighed. She untied her apron, set it aside, and bent down to turn off the stove. "Where did he get drunk? Hasn’t he been quite busy lately?"

"Yes, with work," Zhuang Ming replied.

Shen Jing ladled noodles into a bowl. "Then take him home. Once he sleeps, he’ll be fine. He’s very quiet when he sleeps; he won’t move or make a fuss."

Zhuang Ming, of course, knew this. When sober, Zhou Luchen was incredibly composed. But if his temper was provoked, and he lost control, no one could placate him.

Zhuang Ming said, "I’m paid by the Zhou family, so naturally, I have to do my job. Can you please open the door?"

"Fine. I wouldn’t want you to get all fierce and blow my head off with a gun."

Looking up, Shen Jing offered Zhuang Ming, who was still outside the window, a faint smile. "Banging on my door this early in the morning... Looks like I have to play both mother and father to him."

Zhuang Ming watched her. "Then play those roles for a while. You’ll be compensated afterward. Name your terms."

Wow.

The people around Zhou Luchen were just like him, only interested in exchanges of equal value.

If you had no value, they might not even treat you as a human being.

Shen Jing glanced at the door, which was still being pounded. If she didn’t open it soon, it felt like it might break down. She genuinely wondered if Zhuang Ming would obey that noble young master’s impetuous command and actually shoot the lock off.

She had experienced it countless times: Zhou Luchen was most troublesome when drunk. He would pester her endlessly—either bullying her, clinging to her in bed for kisses and more, or keeping her by the pool all night to satisfy his demands.

Shen Jing wiped her hands and shouted, "Stop knocking! If you scare me again, believe it or not, I’ll really start crying!"

Her words were surprisingly effective. The knocking finally, abruptly, stopped.

Shen Jing opened the door.

The drunken young master was leaning lazily against the doorframe. His collar was askew, his suit unbuttoned. His long-lashed eyes, hazy and bewildered, reflected the light and her image.

"So, you finally decided to open the door?"

The scoundrel, with his drunken eyes, smiled. It was a smile so affectionate it seemed to draw her into the shimmering depths of his pupils, leaving her utterly disoriented, as if lost in a thick fog.

Shen Jing, her hand on the doorknob, met his gaze. "How could I dare not open it?"

The imposing Zhou Luchen advanced, the strong scent of alcohol on his breath preceding him. He backed her up, a hoarse "Hm?" escaping his throat.

Shen Jing, who had been craving noodles, now felt dazed and muddled. "Eat... eat noodles?" she murmured.

Zhou Luchen was being quite perverse. "Don’t want any."

His leather shoes clicked sharply as he took a step forward. She retreated; he advanced, until his shoes were toe-to-toe with her slippers, leaving no gap between them.

Her fingers twitched. "Be reasonable, Zhou Luchen! If you cause any more trouble, I’m throwing you out!"

In front of Zhou Luchen, Shen Jing was always just a paper tiger, her threats utterly toothless.

Besides, Zhuang Ming was his man.

Zhou Luchen’s palm suddenly cupped her face. "Go on then, throw me out."

Her head spun for a moment, her mind going blank. Habitually, she blinked, and her eyes welled up with tears.

Gazing at those tear-filled eyes that had fooled him every time—eyes that lured him in, made him addicted, and stirred his pity—Zhou Luchen’s lips curled. "Why the pitiful act, Shen Jing? Is it fun watching me run around for you? Are you enjoying yourself?"

She lowered her head, tears falling one by one. "Don’t yell at me..."

He leaned closer. "Yelling at you is nothing. I can be much worse."

Zhou Luchen pressed even closer. At such a short distance, she could smell the Montages white wine on him—a cold, clear fragrance, yet rich and profound.

This wine was expensive, a favorite among the wealthy—a true feast for the palate, and potent enough to make one’s head spin.

Shen Jing tugged at the hem of his suit jacket. "Alright, can you please go home and sleep? You’ve been drinking. If you keep this up, I’ll lock the door."

She even scared herself, resorting to coaxing him with a pitiful act. She didn’t want to remain stubborn. Zhou Luchen silently watched her for a good while. Her fingers plucked at his suit, again and again. It was as if this was her only tactic. What else could she possibly do?

Without another word, he scooped her up by the waist and, in his drunken state, carried her off.

Her feet left the ground. Shen Jing was in no state to argue with a drunken young master.

He didn’t get into the car, insisting instead on carrying her for a short walk, greedily inhaling the milky fragrance from her.

His chest was always warm and broad, ample enough to envelop her small frame. He held her like a koala clinging to a baby still nursing.

Zhuang Ming turned off the car’s headlights and drove slowly behind them.