A Twisted Love Affair-Chapter 238: The person heading to the mountain top does not linger for the flowers by the roadside_1
Chicago’s weather was abysmal, with lightning striking askew across the Willis Building’s lightning rod, blinding white flashes exploding in the sky.
Zhou Luchen leaned against the floor-to-ceiling windows, slowly turning the mobile phone in his hand, emotionless.
Zhuang Ming glanced at the man’s clean, slender fingers. "You’re not in New York. They thought something had happened to you and made quite a commotion, but you..."
Heavy rain poured outside the glass behind him. He glanced at Zhuang Ming. "But what?"
"But you seem to be having fun in Chicago, winning lots of chips," Zhuang Ming said.
At first, Zhou Luchen’s lips curled into a smile. His eyelids flickered, and his expression turned cold in an instant. "Stop her."
Zhuang Ming didn’t move. "The Old Chairman still has tasks for you."
"Can’t be bothered," Zhou Luchen said steadily. "I’ve given him the best possible outcome at the summit. Isn’t United Bank’s current advantage enough to satisfy him?"
Zhuang Ming said, "Not enough. The Old Chairman hopes you’ll make United Bank even better."
"He says you’re a man destined for the summit, not some young master who’d linger over a few wildflowers by the roadside. That’s his opinion of you."
Zhou Luchen tugged at his lip, indifferent.
His suit jacket was hooked on his finger and casually draped over his shoulder.
In the pouring rain, a black sports car left The Rookery.
He was, after all, always one to do as he pleased.
Zhuang Ming retracted his gaze and pushed open the thick, bulletproof armored door. "The President is occupied. Let’s delay for now."
Initially, Zhuang Ming had accompanied him to deliver confidential documents. They hadn’t disclosed their itinerary or mentioned to anyone what they were doing in Chicago.
Their opponents, feeling playful, had insisted on a few rounds of gambling with Zhou Luchen.
Before taking office, the Second Young Master had utterly dominated Shanghai’s card rooms, leaving the wealthy heirs of Shanghai with nothing but the clothes on their backs.
The southern part of the city was rife with troublemakers and had always been an area with a high crime rate. Naturally, this didn’t interfere with Zhou Luchen’s plans to gamble.
Zhou Luchen also got caught up in the game, never imagining that a mere whisper of a rumor would make *her* believe he was on the brink of death.
It had only been thirty-four hours, but for her, it was as if her own life was at stake.
She had been weeping, desperately searching for him everywhere.
True, there had been a murder case in the south, but what did life or death matter to the Zhou Family’s Second Young Master?
He had always been indifferent to the lives of others.
Amidst the towering buildings under oppressive black clouds, the engine of a black, high-quality supercar roared. It sped recklessly down Chicago’s avenues, braving the downpour.
"President, there are strong downdrafts at the moment. The helicopter trip back to New York is relatively risky."
"President, for your safety, we must remind you: we do not advise the pilot to fly you back to New York without proper authorization."
Reaching out, Zhou Luchen ended the Bluetooth call.
「Kennedy Airport.」
The weather was poor, and international flights were delayed.
In the boarding lounge, the buffet offered little that was appetizing. Shen Jing only wanted a cup of coffee. She sat alone on the sofa, her eyelids slowly growing heavy.
The Americano was unbearably bitter, and the front desk had no sugar cubes for her.
Zhuang Ming had sent her a text message, vaguely detailing Zhou Luchen’s whereabouts over the past thirty-four hours.
She typed back: "As long as you’re not dead. I was about to buy a wreath."
Without finishing reading his message, Shen Jing turned off her phone.
A man wearing a headset leaned close and whispered in her ear, asking her to come outside the airport because someone was looking for her.
Shen Jing stood up, scanning her surroundings. "Who?"
The man’s expression remained neutral as he extended a hand. "Please follow me."
Filled with doubt, Shen Jing followed him out of the airport.
At a glance, she saw him. Next to a fleet of black executive cars, Zhou Luchen stood tall and proud, his cold eyes fixed in her direction.
The dim evening lights enveloped him, yet they couldn’t suppress the innate, dazzling arrogance that made him seem to disdain all else.
Shen Jing forced a wry smile. She took a sip of her bitter coffee to feign composure and returned his gaze.
He rushed back from Chicago to New York... to pick me up?
He doesn’t want me to leave?
For a moment, she desperately wanted to know.
After being separated for so long, had Zhou Luchen, even for a second, felt despair over losing her? Had he ever drowned his sorrows in alcohol all night for her? Had he ever missed her so much that he felt compelled to appear before her instantly?
Indeed, he lived a life in the spotlight. He indulged himself when lonely, and when it came to stabilizing his career, he would stop at nothing. He relentlessly pursued the power he desired, climbing towards his summit, never sparing a single minute to chase after women or romance.
Clearly, everyone knew that to him, people were as inconsequential as floating clouds; power was all he cared about.
She had loved that version of him, and yet, she also knew she could never truly capture the heart of such a man.
The man in the suit and earpiece beside her courteously extended his hand. "Please come to the car. You will be unable to return to your country today."
You will be unable to return to your country today.
It was phrased politely, yet she detected an undeniable, irresistible undertone.
Shen Jing placed the coffee cup in the man’s hand. "Please throw this away. Your boss doesn’t like the smell of coffee."
Leaning against the car door, Zhou Luchen’s eyes flickered as if he had heard her. He strode quickly towards her, covering the distance in what seemed like a few large steps, and lifted her into the car. She didn’t resist, allowing him to do as he pleased.
She buried her face deeply and remained silent.
The driver placed the prepared pastries and juice on the tray table in front of her, and then the privacy partition rose, isolating them from everything.
The fleet of executive cars drove off slowly, departing from the airport in an orderly procession.
The dark, privacy-tinted windows made it impossible for outsiders to discern which VIP the convoy was escorting.
Shen Jing had no appetite; she couldn’t eat anything at a time like this. Indeed, when people are anxious, they don’t feel hungry.
Zhou Luchen leaned over and gathered her into his arms, settling her sideways onto his lap, his body protectively enveloping hers.
She didn’t struggle.
A moment later, Zhou Luchen freed one hand to pass her the juice. She took it and gently bit the straw, taking a small sip.
Zhou Luchen smiled faintly.
The pad of his thumb rose slightly, and his long, distinct fingers gently traced the tear streaks at the corners of her eyes. "Your eyes are so swollen. How long were you crying?"
Her eyelashes were still damp and clumped together, yet Shen Jing denied it. "I wasn’t."
Knowing she was trying to preserve her pride, Zhou Luchen didn’t press her. "So, how many wreaths did you order for me?"
Shen Jing lifted her chin. "I just thought you were dead. It was merely a humanitarian gesture, a token of sympathy."
She’s still cursing me. A flicker of annoyance crossed his face. Zhou Luchen’s palm landed with a soft POP on her backside; it felt soft and yielding.
It tickled. She shifted slightly on his thigh but was immediately pressed back into his embrace. His grip was firm, tinged with a possessive energy that didn’t allow her to move an inch.
He just had to hold her, to keep her close. This man was downright domineering!
She could only sip her juice, nestled securely in his lap, trying to enjoy the momentary comfort.
Zhou Luchen chuckled softly. "If I were really gone, what would you do, hmm?"
Shen Jing put down her juice and picked up a biscuit. "Are you my father? I’d still be alive even if you were gone."
So delicate and soft, Zhou Luchen thought. She was clearly terrified and powerless, yet she worried about my safety and searched for me so desperately. I’d rather be the one protecting her, like a father.
He knew very well about Shen Jing’s anxiety and worry during those thirty-four hours: her small, lonely figure pacing between the manor and the headquarters, and finally, her attempt to go to Chicago, desperate for any news that he was alive.
A myriad of emotions churned within him. Zhou Luchen lowered his gaze, looking into her tear-filled eyes, his voice low and slightly hoarse. "Okay. I know you’ve been through a lot. It’s my fault."
Shen Jing stopped nibbling her biscuit and pressed her lips together. "Are you really okay? You’re not hurt? Those riots... they had nothing to do with you, right?"
