On the banks of the Thames, a set of bone china tea ware with white floral patterns sat atop a pristine white tablecloth. The gilded edges gleamed dazzlingly under the sunlight, and delicate pastries were arranged neatly on a three-tiered porcelain tray.
Chen Luoru sipped her black tea with graceful poise. A light breeze lifted the soft strands of hair by her ear, and the pearl earrings on her petite earlobes swayed gently.
Her phone screen flashed on the table. She picked it up to take a look, and her finely arched brows furrowed more and more tightly.
[Chen Luoru: Did I say anything wrong? Everything I said is true. If there’s a single lie, may my husband be struck by lightning on the spot.]
[Chen Xiao: …You can swear like that?]
[Chen Luoru: You have no idea how outrageous he is. He came to London.]
[Chen Xiao: sips tea, grabs popcorn.jpg]
[Chen Luoru: He wants to drag me back to China to have his baby!]
[Chen Xiao: But you’re married. Isn’t having a baby pretty normal?]
[Chen Luoru: It’s not normal at all! I absolutely won’t have a baby for him.]
[Chen Xiao: Why not?]
[Chen Luoru: Because I have integrity.]
Chen Xiao was speechless. This was a whole new level of… integrity?
First time seeing someone so righteously self-assured while spending another person’s money.
Eating with the bowl, then cursing the cook—this was exactly that.
[Chen Luoru: I must get a divorce.]
Even as an outsider, Chen Xiao couldn’t bear to watch anymore.
With such a dramatic little princess at home, the fact that the marriage lasted four years—her husband really had it tough.
She was actually curious to see what tricks Chen Luoru would pull to get divorced.
[Chen Xiao: If you don’t divorce, don’t call yourself a Chen.]
[Chen Luoru: Then you have to be my strategist.]
[Chen Xiao: …I still have to work. Talk later.]
After finishing afternoon tea, Chen Luoru returned loaded with shopping bags, accompanied by four assistants.
When she returned to the hotel, Gao Qian asked, “Madam, is there anything you’d like to have brought back to China? I can send someone to fetch it.”
When Chen Luoru first studied at Cambridge, she lived in a single dorm room.
She often came to London on weekends to shop. Over time, she bought so much that her dorm couldn’t hold everything, so she bought a house out in the countryside, where property was cheap.
Even though she didn’t want to return to China, she now had no chance of escape.
Thinking about the room full of clothes, bags, and jewelry she’d spent four years collecting, she couldn’t bear to leave them behind in England.
So she gave Gao Qian the key and told him to take inventory carefully.
If a single item went missing, she’d definitely hold him accountable.
At 9 p.m., Meng Jianchen returned to the hotel, and Gao Qian reported Chen Luoru’s schedule for the day.
“Left at 9 a.m. for shopping at Harrods, had afternoon tea at 3 p.m., returned to the hotel at 5 p.m. Apart from going out for dinner, she stayed in the room the whole time.”
“Is everything arranged at home?” Meng Jianchen asked.
“I just spoke to Butler Wu—it’s all taken care of,” Gao Qian replied.
Meng Jianchen acknowledged with a nod.
Watching Meng Jianchen walk into the elevator, Gao Qian couldn’t help but sigh inwardly—after years of letting her run wild, the boss was finally getting serious.
In his opinion, just cutting off her credit cards would’ve been enough to make her behave. Why go through so much trouble?
From what he’d heard, before marriage the madam had been just a bit spoiled, not this over the top.
Most likely, it was all the boss’s pampering that made her this way.
When Meng Jianchen returned to the room, he wasn’t at all surprised to find a mountain of luxury goods in the living room.
Boxes from all sorts of designer brands were stacked together, brightly colored and flashy.
She really had no restraint when it came to spending his money.
In the bedroom, Chen Luoru was already asleep in bed.
Shopping was a physically demanding task—it clearly wore her out.
Her eyes were gently closed, dark hair against fair skin, red lips and white teeth—radiant and charming.
Meng Jianchen stood quietly by the bed for a while, watching her sleep, then finally went to take a shower.
The next morning, when Chen Luoru woke up, Meng Jianchen was already sitting on the sofa in the living room.
Several documents were spread out on the coffee table in both Chinese and English, and he was signing them one by one.
On this trip to the UK, Meng Jianchen had visited the University of London’s Cancer Research Institute and signed a partnership agreement.
Chen Luoru walked out in slippers. The female assistant beside him, dressed in a fitted suit, was clearly meeting the legendary Mrs. Meng for the first time and quickly greeted her, “Good morning, Madam.”
Meng Jianchen calmly finished signing the last page. His slender fingers capped the pen with a crisp “click.”
“Awake?” He closed the documents. The assistant leaned down to organize them.
Isn’t that obvious? Chen Luoru didn’t respond.
Meng Jianchen, knowing her well, didn’t expect an answer anyway.
He reminded her, “We’re going to the airport later. You’ve got three hours.”
Chen Luoru shot him a glance and turned to head back to the bedroom.
At 1 p.m. local time, Chen Luoru was escorted to Heathrow Airport.
An Airbus ACJ319Neo business jet, looking like a giant dragonfly, was parked on the tarmac.
The plane belonged to Jinghong Holdings Group. After its conversion, it could carry over twenty people and fly nonstop to any country in Europe or America. Jinghong executives often used it for business trips.
Nearby was a Bombardier Global 7000 with even more luxurious interiors.
This jet was privately owned by Meng Jianchen and used exclusively by him.
It was this private jet that Chen Luoru would be flying on.
Sigh—being flown home on a private jet like a prisoner… this was practically war criminal-level treatment.
Before boarding the plane, Chen Luoru turned back for one last glance, bidding farewell to the England she had lived in for six years.
At such a moment, she felt inspired to recite a poem:
Silently, I leave,
Just as silently as I came;
I wave my sleeve gently,
Not taking a single cloud away.
Except…
She was taking her Hermès, Louis Vuitton, Chanel, Gucci, Prada, Valentino, etc.
International long-haul flights are exhausting—unless you’re flying in a luxurious private jet.
Onboard was an entertainment suite, Michelin-level private chef when she got hungry, and a bedroom to rest when she was tired.
When Chen Luoru went to sleep, Meng Jianchen was still working.
She flopped onto the big bed and rolled around twice—sleeping alone really was the best feeling.
After a flight of over ten hours, the plane landed smoothly at Beijing Capital Airport at 6:30 a.m. local time.
Chen Luoru, who frequently flew all over the world, had long mastered the ability to adjust her body clock with just one nap.
When she woke up on the plane, someone had appeared beside her.
She was clinging to him like an octopus.
Startled, Chen Luoru quickly pulled herself away from Meng Jianchen. She tried to scoot back, only to find his arm wrapped tightly around her slim waist.
This pervert actually groped her in her sleep!
With a slap, she lightly smacked his chin.
It wasn’t hard, but it was enough to wake Meng Jianchen.
Sure enough, he slowly opened his eyes.
Looking at the woman in his arms, she glared at him like an angry little bird—ferocious in a cute way.
Meng Jianchen: “What are you doing?”
Chen Luoru: “There was a mosquito.”
Meng Jianchen: “…”
“You really think there would be mosquitoes on a private jet 100,000 feet in the air?” he looked into her eyes and added, “Also, I wasn’t asleep—I was just resting my eyes.”
A wave of embarrassment washed over Chen Luoru. She shoved his arm away and sat up, flustered. “Who told you to hug me?”
“You rolled over and crushed my arm,” Meng Jianchen replied calmly. “Don’t you know what kind of sleeper you are?”
It felt like punching cotton—infuriatingly soft. Chen Luoru was both embarrassed and angry.
Meng Jianchen leaned casually against the headboard, arms behind his head, and said lazily, “I honestly don’t understand how you got into Cambridge.”
“Did your family build them a new building?” His eyes held a mocking glint. “Otherwise, I’m going to start doubting the credibility of the QS rankings.”
It was bad enough that he insulted her—but now he was insulting her alma mater?
Chen Luoru puffed up like a furious little pufferfish. She grabbed a pillow and flung it at his head with a thump, then jumped off the bed and stormed out.
Meng Jianchen took the pillow off his head and chuckled to himself.
Chen Luoru had legitimately graduated from Cambridge.
What the average person saw as a world-class university was not unattainable for children of the elite.
Many applicants to Cambridge were filtered out by the English requirements alone.
But Chen Luoru had attended school in Hong Kong since she was young, and later went to high school in London. Her perfect Oxford-accented English had given her a major advantage.
The Chen family had invested heavily in building her résumé.
She studied harp, and the family sponsored her to perform with an orchestra at the Golden Hall in Vienna—renting the venue only cost a few thousand euros.
Chen Luoru also loved traveling and had explored half the globe at a young age, trying all sorts of new experiences.
Foreign universities didn’t only look at grades—the better your background and the richer your experience, the more likely they were to admit you.
The Chen family even had a bigwig personally write her glowing, over-the-top recommendation letter. It would’ve been hard for Cambridge not to admit her.
As someone from the same elite class, Meng Jianchen obviously knew all this. Which made it clear—he was mocking her on purpose.
One minute later, Chen Luoru returned.
She was holding a fruit bowl. She grabbed a small apple and hurled it at Meng Jianchen’s head while shouting:
“You insult me—I take the loss—but you’re just a little turtle!”
“You think you’re some fancy biscuit?!”
“You stink like a fart!”
Apples, oranges, and pears flew one after another onto the bed.
Still not satisfied, Chen Luoru noticed there were bananas left at the bottom of the bowl. She flung the entire bunch—bowl and all—at him and angrily yelled:
“Go eat bananas, you jerk!”