Before today, Lou Fan had thought she was just an innocent girl with little life experience. But
now, his impression of her was truly beginning to crack.
Chu Xia didn’t say much. She simply took out another document—a business contract—flipped
straight to the signature page, and handed him a pen.
“This is the profit-sharing plan. If you think it’s reasonable, you can sign.”
Lou Fan raised a brow. Without even looking, he let out a soft laugh.
“Don’t be ridiculous. You’ve never done this before—no matter how detailed your proposal is,
it’s still just theory. I was thinking you could be an art agent, maybe sell a painting now and then
for some extra spending money. But now you’re talking about opening a gallery—that’s a whole
different level.”
Chu Xia replied calmly,
“I know you don’t believe in me. So why don’t you take a look at the terms I’m offering?”
Half-skeptical, Lou Fan lowered his gaze to the contract—and discovered that at the end, there
was even a bet-on-performance agreement included.
“We’ll set a target revenue. Give me one year—if I lose, not only will I repay your one million
principal, I’ll also pay you interest proportionally. You’re basically just parking your money with
me for a year—guaranteed profit, no loss.”
Lou Fan looked at her. “And if you win?”
“I want sixty percent equity, a cash bonus, and additional investment from you.”
Lou Fan laughed. There was a flicker of excitement in his eyes, along with a hint of surprise at
her boldness.
“So, the little pixiu wants to make a big score?”
He carefully reviewed the contract and realized she hadn’t used their personal relationship to
secure any special advantage.
In the past, profit-sharing terms were always the most time-consuming part—both sides would
go back and forth, each trying to maximize their own gain.
But Chu Xia had directly granted him priority dividend rights.
A trace of surprise flashed in Lou Fan’s eyes.
“Do you actually understand what priority dividend rights mean? It means once the gallery starts
making a profit, I get paid first—until I recover the one million I invested in you.”
Chu Xia nodded firmly.
“This is the greatest sincerity I can offer right now.”
In truth, it was also her way of making it clear—she wasn’t just playing around.
Hearing this, Lou Fan put away his usual flirtatious nonchalance. For the first time, he showed
genuine seriousness, though the interest in his eyes had grown even stronger than ever before.
“Looks like I don’t understand you well enough.”
He signed the contract with a quick, almost careless scrawl, then extended his hand.
“Then, happy cooperation… President Xiao Li.”
Chu Xia gripped his hand firmly, meeting his gaze directly.
“Happy cooperation.”
Afterward, Chu Xia met with Qiao Nian, told her about her plan to open a gallery, and sincerely
invited her to join.
“You’ve only worked with me for a few days, and you’re already asking me to start a business
with you?” Even Qiao Nian’s usually expressionless face cracked slightly. “Are you serious?”
“I’m very serious.”
Chu Xia opened her laptop and showed her. Inside were detailed notes on a gallery inventory
management system, exhibition planning strategies, and analyses of business operation models.
Qiao Nian stared at her in shock.
“You… you’re a monster. It’s only been a few days, and you’ve already mastered the business
model of this industry.”
“I’ve been studying this whole time,” Chu Xia replied.
“No wonder you keep disappearing for hours every day.”
Chu Xia said calmly,
“I understand your concerns, so we can include a special clause in our contract—you can
withdraw at any time. I may have some initial ideas for the gallery, but when it comes to industry
specifics and artistic decisions, I’ll need your help.”
Qiao Nian fell silent for a moment, looking into Chu Xia’s eyes. Then she picked up a pen and
signed the contract in a swift motion.
After signing, as if afraid she might change her mind, she quickly pushed the contract back and
said,
“I finally understand how King Zhou felt.”
With a face and a pair of eyes like that, once she looks at you, it doesn’t even matter what she
says—you’d be dazed no matter who you are.
Once they decided, they acted immediately.
Both Qiao Nian and Chu Xia were people of action.
In just three days, they surveyed potential gallery locations. In Jing City, there was an art district
called Yixianghui. It had originally been an abandoned industrial zone—filled with massive steel
drums and rusted machinery. Later, artists and cultural institutions moved into these derelict
buildings, turning it into a classic example of successful urban renewal.
As Chu Xia looked around, she saw how the old industrial factories had been
transformed—retaining elements of East German architectural style while blending into
Bauhaus-inspired design. Crumbling walls were covered in street graffiti, and each artist’s studio
had its own unique character. She knew immediately she had found the right place.
It felt more like a highly inclusive artistic community—home to galleries, studios, design firms,
fashion shops, restaurants, and cafés. Various exhibitions dazzled visitors: painting, sculpture,
photography, installation art—drawing in large numbers of young people eager to explore.
The space Chu Xia rented was located in a high-traffic area within Yixianghui. The previous
tenant had been a painter’s studio, so much of the interior didn’t need major renovation, saving
them a considerable amount on costs.
After paying the deposit, she and Qiao Nian hired a professional designer to shape the gallery’s
brand and style.
Chu Xia named the gallery: “X-MUSE”—the Muse of Freedom.
After a week of nonstop work, the two of them finally settled all the details.
Chu Xia went home every day and fell straight asleep. Several times, she missed Sheng Jingshi’s
calls—so this man showed up in person.
After knocking a few times and calling her four times, Chu Xia finally opened the door, rubbing
her eyes.
He looked at her suspiciously.
“Why are you sleeping so early?”
“Early?” Chu Xia yawned. “It’s already nine.”
Nine o’clock was usually the time Sheng Jingshi had just finished his social engagements.
He pinched the tip of her nose, deliberately not letting her breathe.
“You’ve got it easy, sleeping at home every day.”
Chu Xia didn’t bother dodging him. Her pink lips parted slightly as she breathed through her
mouth.
The sight made Sheng Jingshi laugh instantly, his fatigue from the day fading away. He leaned
down to kiss her.
With her mouth blocked and her nose unable to breathe, Chu Xia resisted in dissatisfaction,
gently pushing against his shoulder. The man loosened his grip on her nose, then took her hand,
interlacing their fingers as he kissed her deeply.
Only when she was slightly dizzy from lack of air did he reluctantly pull away, his voice husky
as he asked,
“What have you been up to these past few days? Why didn’t you answer my calls?”
“Busy.”
“What could you possibly be busy with?”
Chu Xia brushed him off casually.
“Going to art exhibitions.”
Sheng Jingshi didn’t question why she had suddenly become interested in art. He believed he
understood her well—she was someone who acted on whims.
For example, before, she once said she wanted to go skiing and coaxed him into it. So he made
time to take her to Hokkaido and even hired her a private instructor. In just a few days, she had
already gotten quite good at skiing—but her stamina couldn’t keep up.
Chu Xia had always been someone with fleeting enthusiasm. By the fifth day, she was soaking in
a hot spring with a towel balanced on her head, telling him,
“I think I’m more suited to sports where you don’t have to move.”
Sheng Jingshi chuckled softly, wrapping an arm around her waist, his voice low and tempting.
“I can think of a sport where you don’t have to move—but you’ll still sweat.”
And so the rest of their trip in Hokkaido turned into the two of them staying in the hotel every
day, “exercising.”
Back then, she was very obedient—she would even actively share the little trivial things in her
life with him. When she talked, her eyes were bright and sparkling, and she could make even the
most boring things sound exciting. But now…
Sheng Jingshi gently kissed the side of her neck and asked softly,
“What was the theme of the art exhibition? Which piece did you like?”
But the only response he got was the steady breathing of the person in his arms, followed by a
faint, sleepy murmur:
“Nothing special. Go to sleep.”