As evening approached, the setting sun resembled a burning orange lantern, slowly sinking in the west.
The continuous mountain range appeared as indigo silhouettes. Birds flew into the forest, leaving behind fleeting white shadows.
Chen Luoru lay groggily on the soft bed for nearly a whole day, drifting in and out of sleep.
There was a knock at the door.
“Madam, are you awake?” It was the maid’s voice.
Chen Luoru slowly opened her eyes but couldn’t be bothered to respond.
The maid added, “Madam, sir has returned.”
Chen Luoru was startled and hurriedly shut her eyes again, pretending to sleep.
Perhaps after waiting for a while with no movement, Meng Jianchen pushed open the door and entered.
Chen Luoru was lying on the bed. Her dark, glossy hair was draped to one side, her fair arms rested beside the bed, and her graceful figure was hidden beneath the silk duvet. Her smooth little feet peeked out from the bottom of the blanket.
The maid carefully placed the tray at the bedside and quietly exited, closing the door behind her.
On the tray was a bowl of fresh seafood congee, with clam meat, dried scallops, and abalone—nourishing and restorative.
Next to it, a delicate plate held shrimp dumplings, steamed crab roe siu mai, and English scones—all snacks suited to her tastes.
“How long are you going to keep sleeping?” Meng Jianchen asked coldly from above.
“None of your business.” Chen Luoru didn’t bother pretending anymore. She rolled over and turned her back to him.
The silk pajamas rippled slightly, revealing a subtle rose pattern in the fabric.
“Get up and eat.” Meng Jianchen sat on the bed. The maid had just told him she hadn’t eaten all day and had been in a mood.
“Starving is better than being locked up and treated like a kept woman.” Chen Luoru was indifferent to his false concern.
Meng Jianchen: “…”
What sort of nonsense was this “Luoyan-speak”?
But Chen Luoru was indeed hungry. Under the temptation of good food, she didn’t hold out for long.
Grudgingly, she sat up and said, “Just a little.”
Despite her childish temperament, years of British aristocratic education had shaped her differently from ordinary girls.
Even when eating, she maintained elegant manners. Though ravenous, she still chewed slowly and delicately.
Even when eating the scone, she took care not to drop a single crumb—rumor had it that, in Europe, people used scones to test the dining etiquette of noblewomen.
Unfortunately, she ate too much and cleared the entire tray.
She didn’t treat Meng Jianchen like an outsider—if she were with a man she liked, she’d never eat that much and ruin her image.
Well, that made sense.
After all, they’d been married for four years. Hardly strangers anymore.
Meng Jianchen walked to the floor-to-ceiling window and drew open the heavy embroidered blackout curtains.
Outside, twilight had fallen. Between green mountains and trees, the grand estate—resembling Versailles—was bathed in a soft golden light.
He removed his gold cufflinks and loosened his tie with one hand.
His figure was straight and upright, broad shoulders and a narrow waist highlighting the long legs wrapped in tailored trousers.
Now full and energized, Chen Luoru was ready to cause trouble again.
Meng Jianchen calmly reminded her, “Mrs. Meng, we are legally married.”
He hadn’t stolen anyone, hadn’t robbed anyone.
Sharing a bed was perfectly legitimate.
“Who told you to marry me?” Chen Luoru pounded the pillow in protest.
“Your whole family.” Meng Jianchen answered righteously.
Chen Luoru was left speechless by that.
A whirlwind of emotions surged within her, and she decided to raise the banner of rebellion.
She jumped off the bed in her pajamas, slippers clicking against the floor as she ran to the bedroom door and shouted at his back: “I want a divorce!”
She was a pampered little canary—but now, the canary was going to revolt!
The maids in the hallway exchanged glances, holding their breath.
If they hadn’t misheard… did Madam just say she wanted a divorce?
Just got home and already talking divorce—truly, the rich live differently.
The villa’s main door downstairs was tightly shut. Chen Luoru twisted the handle, but it was locked. She couldn’t get out.
She ran to the window and peeked outside. The sky was darkening. The house was deep in the mountains, unfamiliar and isolated. She had nowhere to go.
She suddenly thought of that domestic movie The Woman Who Married Into the Mountains. Her situation wasn’t much better than the lead character’s.
Sold off to the mountains, forced to marry a bachelor—only, no way would she ever “devote herself.” Not in this lifetime.
With her wild imagination, it was no wonder she wrote those kinds of posts on Weibo.
Like a headless fly, she wandered around the first floor, then finally slumped onto the couch in defeat.
She picked up a throw pillow and decided she would sleep on the couch tonight.
Upstairs, Meng Jianchen stood at the railing, eyes burning as he watched her slender back.
“Sir, Madam is…” Butler Wu looked worried.
“Let her be,” Meng Jianchen said, then turned to leave. As if suddenly recalling something, he gave Butler Wu a few instructions.
Butler Wu looked conflicted. “I don’t think that’s appropriate…”
Madam had grown up pampered. What the gentleman wanted to do—it was too harsh. How could Madam endure such cruelty?
Meng Jianchen said firmly, “Do as I say.”
“…Understood.”
It was tyrannical, yes. But who told him to be the Master?
After Meng Jianchen returned to his room, Butler Wu summoned a maid and instructed, “Turn off all the air conditioners except the one in the master bedroom.”
It was summertime in Beijing, and this year was especially hot. The sun during the day was blistering, and even at night the temperature hovered around 30°C (86°F).
Oh no… without air conditioning, how would Madam manage?
Chen Luoru woke up from the heat.
She raised her hand to wipe her forehead—covered in beads of sweat. Even her body was sticky and damp.
That petty man Meng Jianchen… was he trying to save electricity for his future coffin? Not even letting people use the AC?
Chen Luoru fanned herself with her hands and cursed him in her heart.
Her chest felt like it was on fire—the more she thought, the angrier she got.
Furiously, she flung away the pillow and stormed upstairs to demand an explanation.
Meng Jianchen was lounging comfortably in the master bedroom, watching a live football game on TV.
Two years ago, the first thing he did after returning from the U.S. was invest 300 million euros into a Serie A star team, becoming its new chairman.
Public opinion was divided. Most dismissed it as a rich second generation squandering money on frivolous hobbies.
But Meng Jianchen had a clear message:
First, Jinghong Holdings was entering the sports industry.
Second, the heir of Jinghong Holdings had officially returned to China.
Granted, it did reflect some of his personal interests.
Still, 300 million euros was not a huge sum for a business empire like Jinghong.
Moreover, from a long-term perspective, the investment was worthwhile.
Suddenly, a loud knocking came from the door, along with a very frustrated voice.
“Meng Jianchen! Open the door!”
“If you’ve got the guts to turn off the AC, then have the guts to open this door!”
“Open up! I know you’re in there! Stop hiding in silence!”
Meng Jianchen let out a chuckle.
He turned off the TV and leisurely walked to the door, unlocking it.
At the doorway stood a furious little canary jumping like thunder.
Her slightly upturned almond eyes were round with rage, and her rosy lips murmured a string of complaints.
Chen Luoru glared at him, wanting to angrily question why he was so cruel. Even the princess in The Princess and the Pea never suffered like this.
The master bedroom was nice and cool—of course he enjoyed it.
But before she could say a word, Meng Jianchen scooped her up into his arms. The world spun, and her hands instinctively wrapped around his neck.
He carried her back to the large bed and whispered in her ear,
“Still want a divorce?”
His warm, dangerous breath brushed her ear. Chen Luoru shivered, glaring at him like he was the enemy.
A blush tinged the corners of her eyes, making her look even more fragile and easy to bully. “I—”
He pressed his finger to her soft lips, silencing her.
“If you keep this up, I’ll throw you out.”
Chen Luoru fell silent.
The bedside lamp went out. She was held tightly in someone’s arms, completely powerless.
The French Revolution ended with the Bourbon restoration.
The Xinhai Revolution died with Yuan Shikai’s dictatorship.
And the Canary Revolution?
It died… from lack of air conditioning.
Sansukini: Haha. They’re both childish… But she really is a drama queen.