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Qiao Ling hooked the strap hanging on her elbow over her shoulder, glanced at his lips that were unusually vibrant from smearing her lipstick, and scoffed, “Brother Jinyue, so eager to get laid? Can’t your little girlfriend satisfy you?”
She got off the bed, took a hair tie from the drawer of the bedside table, and tied up her long hair.
Zhou Jinyue remained unfazed, sitting up and taking off the unbuttoned shirt he was wearing, casually correcting her, “Lingling, I don’t have a little girlfriend.”
“Besides, you were the one who said you wanted to sleep with me. You know, your brother has always been at your beck and call.”
…
Qiao Ling was left speechless. Thinking back carefully, it was indeed she who had kissed him first, but as for saying she wanted to sleep with Zhou Yaonie—she truly had no recollection of that.
Moreover, she had thought it was all a dream. Still, it was exactly the kind of thing she would say.
“Take me home first. I’m not in the mood today. I’ll sleep with you another day.” As she spoke, Qiao Ling kept her eyes fixed on his perfectly sculpted physique and commented lightly, “Your abs are quite sexy.”
“Like them?” Zhou Jinyue curled his lips, leisurely picking up the shirt from the foot of the bed.
Tomorrow was Grandpa Qiao’s seventh-day memorial, and today really wasn’t the time for such recklessness.
The word “like” was on the tip of her tongue, but Qiao Ling changed her tone, “They’re alright, about the same as Third Brother and the others.”
Zhou Jinyue paused, his gaze turning cold. “Them? Who are they?” His voice was deep and chilling, sending shivers down one’s spine.
“The ducks in the brothel.” Qiao Ling leaned lazily against the floor-to-ceiling window, the cold temperature seeping through her thin dress and spreading across her body, making her mind even clearer.
Resting her chin on her hand, she pursed her red lips and watched the man’s gloomy expression with relish.
Yes! She wanted to provoke him!
He had left without a word three years ago, disappearing without a trace all this time, and now he suddenly returned as if nothing had happened.
Hah…
Her inexplicably vanished “little boyfriend,” and that absurd night… and so on… and so on…
They still had a lot of unsettled accounts between them.
Suddenly, the man’s cold and ambiguous voice sounded beside her ear, “Lingling has grown up.”
Zhou Jinyue struggled to suppress the violent rage growing inside him, his long fingers gripping the shirt tightly.
Qiao Ling glanced at the bulging veins on the back of his hand, feeling somewhat relieved, and smiled, “Hurry up, please, Brother Jinyue.”
Zhou Jinyue pressed his lips together tightly, his movements carrying a hint of restlessness.
Before heading downstairs.
Qiao Ling handed him a tissue, “You’ve got my lipstick on your lips. People might misunderstand if they see it.”
“Misunderstand?” Zhou Jinyue chuckled lightly. The next moment, he heard the girl’s airy voice.
“I’m just afraid that if people gossip about you being inadequate, I’ll get dragged into the rumors too.”
With that, Qiao Ling turned and left without looking back.
Zhou Jinyue was both angered and amused by her. Watching the girl’s swaying figure, he no longer concealed the depth in his eyes, pressing his tongue against his cheek before lightly licking his lips.
That little girl was like a wolf cub wrapped in rose thorns—prickly inside and out.
The Qiao Family.
Qiao Ling took a shower and lay in bed. Though she was exhausted and sleepy, she couldn’t fall asleep no matter how hard she tried.
Her mind was filled with thoughts about Zhou Jinyue.
In Qiao Ling’s memory, ever since she could remember, she had often followed Zhou Jinyue around, calling him “brother” at every turn.
Zhou Jinyue had been solitary and gloomy as a child.As a child, she was mischievous and loved to cause trouble, often getting into fights with Chi Nian and the others. They would brawl fiercely, with only Zhou Jinyue staying out of it, yet in the end, he would take all the blame.
In all her years growing up, Qiao Ling had only seen Zhou Jinyue resort to violence once. It was during her first year of high school when she was harassed by a hooligan, and Zhou Jinyue beat the person half to death.
Later, when she was nineteen, Zhou Jinyue left without a word.
Before he left, it was Yu Wanli’s birthday, and everyone had been having a wild time. So wild, in fact, that something absurd ended up happening between the two of them.
After it was over, Qiao Ling’s mind was surprisingly clear. She tidied up the scene and fled in a hurry, her heart filled with complicated emotions.
She had always been clear about her feelings for Zhou Jinyue. Ever since her first awakening of affection, they had ceased to be simple—not simple at all!
But she could never see through Zhou Jinyue’s feelings for her. Zhou Jinyue was troubled, deeply troubled—gloomy, violent, and rebellious.
Yet, that version of him was utterly obedient to her, gentle and doting. It was precisely this unique special treatment that made Qiao Ling unable to stop overthinking.
She had once saved his life, and Qiao Ling always believed it was because of this that Zhou Jinyue treated her differently from everyone else.
She was afraid—afraid that in Zhou Jinyue’s heart, taking care of her was merely repaying a debt, a sense of duty, an unconditional indulgence.
From the moment her address of “Brother Jinyue” began to carry a different meaning, she no longer wanted his ambiguous affection.
Feelings should be passionate and straightforward.
…
Unconsciously, Qiao Ling gradually fell into a deep sleep.
When she woke again, it was already the next morning.
The housekeeper was knocking on the door. “Miss, it’s time to get up for breakfast.”
“Understood,” Qiao Ling replied. After a quick wash, she changed into a black dress and left her room.
At the dining table, all eight members of the Qiao Family were already present.
Madam Qiao wore a dark expression and immediately began sneering at Qiao Ling. “Next time you go out carousing, remember to bring The Old Master’s portrait along. Don’t just sit at home with a sour face pretending to grieve—you should let outsiders see just how filial you, Qiao Ling, really are.”
Qiao Ling pulled out a chair and sat down, leisurely picking up a piece of bread to spread jam on it. “Bringing Grandpa’s photo isn’t as good as bringing yours. We could frame your picture in gold and place it in the most prominent spot at the bar, letting everyone who comes by pay their respects to you. Wouldn’t that be even more filial?”
“You…” Madam Qiao was instantly provoked, raising her hand as if to slap Qiao Ling across the face.
Qiao Ling shot her a cold glare, frightening her into immediately withdrawing her hand.
Her face twisted with fury, and after a long moment, she spat out through gritted teeth, “You ill-mannered wild girl!”
“Yes, ill-mannered,” Qiao Ling bit into her bread, lowering her eyes with a mocking smile. “How could I compare to those who, the moment the old man passed away, couldn’t wait to divide up his assets? Now that’s what I call well-mannered.”
As soon as she finished speaking, Madam Qiao instantly felt numerous eyes fall upon her.
The two branches of the Qiao Family had been openly and covertly fighting over the division of assets, something everyone was well aware of but never spoke about. Qiao Ling’s blunt retort was no different from slapping her publicly in the face.
Madam Qiao the Second covered her mouth, gleefully stifling a laugh. Once this incident spread, He Ping would be the laughingstock.
Fuming, Madam Qiao threw down her knife and fork and stormed out of the dining room in a rage.
Qiao Ling paid no attention to the furious glares from Madam Qiao’s son and daughter. With an indifferent expression, she finished her meal and then headed to the funeral home.
Grandpa Qiao had been highly respected during his lifetime, and today, many dignitaries and influential figures came to pay their respects.Qiao Ling stood at the entrance of the memorial square, originally intending to pick up Yu Wanli. Unexpectedly, as soon as she arrived, she saw Zhou Jinyue slightly lowering his head, dressed in a black suit, holding a bouquet of chrysanthemums. His long legs were slightly bent, and his spotless black leather shoes rested on the gray-blue steps. An aura of wickedness emanated from him.
He looked up, the stray hairs on his forehead parting slightly to the sides.
She looked down, a strand of hair tucked behind her ear suddenly slipping loose.
Their eyes met, dark gazes colliding in the dim light.