In Beizhou, winter nights fall early.
By six in the evening, the sky had already turned completely dark. The villas within Lu Manor were brightly lit, their lights shimmering brilliantly.
Shen Lingxi sat on the warm-toned carpet.
The flickering flames in the fireplace cast an orange glow on her profile.
“Baby, this is for you, and this too.”
Spread across the carpet were numerous pieces of jewelry, all delivered by Aunt Hui that afternoon.
Shen Lingxi held up a pair of white ice gourd-shaped earrings, comparing them repeatedly against Song Zhili’s earlobes. “So beautiful, and they match your glasses perfectly.”
Song Zhili wore frameless glasses.
She was the most beautiful girl Shen Lingxi had ever seen wearing glasses.
Classically elegant, yet with an indescribable sensuality.
Song Zhili held the earrings, rubbing them between her fingers, before finally opening her mouth after several hesitant attempts.
“Axi, you must remember to use contraception.”
Song Zhili spoke with utmost seriousness.
To her, sex was dark, secretive, and bitter.
Something that couldn’t be breathed in freely, nor spoken of openly.
For two years, Song Zhili had been unable—and unwilling—to tell anyone that she had been sleeping with someone for nearly two years.
Every time she felt on the verge of suffocation, she thought she would never see another tomorrow.
Men, after all, don’t have wombs—they always act with reckless confidence.
Shen Lingxi tilted her head, leaning against Song Zhili’s shoulder.
“Don’t worry, Lili. I absolutely won’t give birth to some demon child with Fu Jinglan.”
Song Zhili quickly covered Shen Lingxi’s mouth. “Don’t say such things carelessly. Be careful—walls have ears.”
The child of the Governor of Beizhou would undoubtedly be a heaven-favored treasure, a cherished pearl.
How could it be called a demon child?
Shen Lingxi smiled faintly. “It’s fine. Fu Jinglan isn’t here. He’s still busy outside.”
But her room was gradually being filled.
Clothes, shoes, bags, jewelry…
The Shen family was already considered a minor wealthy household, but Lu Manor was extravagantly opulent.
Even the servants’ quarters were independent villas.
Shen Lingxi treated this year as nothing more than a fleeting, extravagant dream—unconcerned, unmoved, and unattached.
She hid her smile, tucking away her playful demeanor.
“Fu Jinglan and I have a purely physical relationship, with no emotional involvement.”
“We won’t be having any little babies.”
Lu Manor was truly vast, resembling a luxurious small city.
The two of them had no idea that a private jet, its lights flashing in the night sky, had landed on the manor’s helipad twenty minutes earlier.
A team of armed guards disembarked first, standing in two neat rows.
Fu Jinglan’s tall figure then appeared at the center of the cabin, followed closely by Mu Suizhou.
He deliberately glanced back at the sky.
Above Lu Manor, a glimmer of light in the night sky abruptly changed direction, flying away into the distance.
That plane had been tailing them suspiciously the entire way.
Before disembarking, Fu Jinglan instructed the pilot, “Send them a greeting.”
The pilot immediately understood, turning the plane around and heading straight for the trailing aircraft, brushing past it to deliver a “you’re in danger” warning.
Mu Suizhou chuckled as he followed behind Fu Jinglan.
“Leaving the meeting early before it even finished—the senior officials probably thought you defected and ran off.”
Fu Jinglan descended the airstairs, the cold air rushing against his overcoat.
“Petty behavior.”
“This time was just a greeting. Next time, no need to be so polite—just jam their radar.”
As the cold wind swept over them, Mu Suizhou straightened his coat collar.
“But, Old Fu, why did you come back early anyway?”
Was the year-end meeting of the senior leadership too boring?
No, that couldn’t be—Fu Jinglan had returned with flowers.
Sure enough, Mu Suizhou heard Fu Jinglan say, “For that short-lived little devil.”
At that very moment, outside Shen Lingxi’s door.
Fu Jinglan stood in his tailored suit, his chiseled features cast in a cool, shadowy light.
In his hands, he held an enormous bouquet of flowers.
Purple lisianthus, paired with silver dollar plants in their seedpod stage, tied together with a girlish purple ribbon.
His hand, poised to knock, froze mid-air, and he unconsciously tightened his grip on the bouquet.
Shen Lingxi’s words reached him with crystal clarity.
Fu Jinglan had never once considered having a child with anyone.
But even if he did, why would it have to be some demon child?
Inside the room, Song Zhili felt the topics of relationships and childbirth were too heavy, so she asked Shen Lingxi:
“Ah Xi, what kind of man do you want to marry in the future?”
Shen Lingxi answered quickly, “No dragons or tigers tattooed on him.”
Fu Jinglan’s expression remained cold, but he silently agreed—a man’s power and status were never displayed through tattoos.
He couldn’t help but think of his own tattoo: a snake.
Not a dragon, nor a tiger.
The scar on his waist would have been unbearable to look at without the tattoo.
Fu Jinglan’s skin was too pale, the scar too glaring, and he cared deeply about his appearance—otherwise, even he wouldn’t be able to stand the sight.
Shen Lingxi’s criteria for a partner didn’t stop at just tattoos.
“Hmm… gentle, someone who knows how to pamper me, not an S-type. Baby, you know I’m super scared of pain.”
Fu Jinglan snorted coldly. Baby, baby.
Shen Lingxi certainly knew how to sweet-talk.
Not a single word he wanted to hear.
Immediately after, Shen Lingxi’s voice carried out again, “Most importantly, he absolutely cannot be surnamed Fu.”
Shen Lingxi didn’t name names, but she gave the surname.
Fu Jinglan stood alone outside the door, flowers in hand, a profound sense of futility crashing over him.
Shen Little Rabbit, just recovered from a serious illness, had woken up saying she missed him—all lies.
Fu Jinglan turned and left.
Outside the villa, Mu Suizhou sat in his car, smoking.
With a slight glance upward, he caught sight of Fu Jinglan’s tall figure on the second-floor corridor, illuminated by the light, the large bouquet wilted in his hand.
Finally, the figure disappeared.
Mu Suizhou shook his head.
“Cough, Old Fu really is getting old. Everything he does feels so pitiful.”
By the time Fu Jinglan returned to his room, his expression was as dark as night.
He tossed the bouquet directly onto the long table.
As he strode toward the bathroom, he undid his suit jacket, loosened his tie, unbuttoned his shirt, and unbuckled his belt…
Not long after, Shen Lingxi’s phone chimed with a notification.
Fu Jinglan: 【Come to my room.】
Oh my god!
Lingxi wants, Lingxi gets.
Fu Jinglan really was back, and he’d arrived just as she was gossiping behind his back.
Thankfully, he hadn’t come straight to her.
Fu Jinglan’s room was at the very center of the second floor, with double doors that were even more imposing.
Shen Lingxi knocked, but there was no response.
She pushed the door open and stepped inside. The room was dazzlingly luxurious, but Fu Jinglan was nowhere to be seen.
A few delicate silver dollar plants, thin as silver wings, lay scattered on the floor.
“How careless.”
Shen Lingxi bent down and picked up the silver dollar plants.
Just as she was about to place them back in the bouquet, she noticed a necklace on the long table.
Shen Lingxi was never one to touch others’ belongings without permission, but this time, she was inexplicably drawn to pick up the necklace.
It was entirely gold.
The chain clearly received regular maintenance, gleaming brilliantly.
The pendant was a golden longevity lock.
Beneath the lock hung three small bells inlaid with red jadeite, surrounded by a circle of imperial green jade. In the center of the lock were engraved four large characters:
A Century of Longevity and Blessings.
“What a beautiful blessing. Every child should grow up surrounded by love and blessings.”
Shen Lingxi held the longevity lock, murmuring softly to herself.
Just then, the bathroom door made a faint sound.
Fu Jinglan’s hair was half-dry, strands falling over his brows with a slight curl.
He stepped out in slippers, a navy blue towel wrapped around his waist, the two red and black snakes coiled at his side seeming almost alive.
“What are you touching?”
The moment Fu Jinglan spoke, there was a strong sense of territoriality.
Hmph, who cares!
Shen Lingxi put down the longevity lock, her willful temper barely contained.
“A gift from your first love? Then I won’t touch it.”
Fu Jinglan spoke bluntly.
“One was ten, the other fifteen—what could they have understood at such a young age?”
But as Fu Jinglan drew closer, Shen Lingxi finally saw how terrible his expression looked.
The cold-faced big bad wolf had arrived, and things didn’t seem good.
Without hesitation, Shen Lingxi immediately curved her lips into a smile, skipping and hopping over to throw herself into Fu Jinglan’s arms.
Her arms wrapped tightly around his waist, her cheek nuzzling softly against his chest.
“D-^^y, you’re back! Was it cold outside tonight?”