The night was deep.
At some point, her dress had slipped onto the carpet, pooling into a small heap.
Mu Suihe lay sunk in the dark gray bedding, her skin fair and tender enough to glow.
She was breathtakingly beautiful from her slender shoulders and neck down to the narrow curve of her waist, every inch impossibly soft.
Lu Yuzhi braced one hand beside her face, the muscles of his back and shoulders rippling, his abdomen taut, his thighs strong and powerful.
He didn’t dare press his full weight down on her, only hovering loosely over her.
But even holding back, when that frame of his came down, she still couldn’t bear it.
Tears gathered in her peach-blossom eyes, about to fall but not yet fallen, the corners red, the tip of her nose pink.
She raised her hands to push at his shoulders, her fingers lacking strength.
The young girl turned her head aside, trying to dodge his descending kiss, her voice soft and hoarse, breaking into fragments: “Professor, you said just once.”
Lu Yuzhi gave a low murmur of acknowledgment, his lips chasing after hers, kissing from her earlobe all the way down the side of her neck.
His voice was hoarse beyond recognition: “Baby, you’re amazing.”
He spoke coaxing words, but showed no intention of stopping.
The waves surged and calmed. Her eyes went unfocused; she propped herself up and tried to escape by half an inch, but he caught her by one ankle.
She was dragged back, taken with a sudden fierce thrust—a whimper escaped her, tears sliding down from her beautiful large eyes, her lashes clumping together wetly, pitiful and delicate.
“Crying again? There, there, baby. Save some of those tears.” He lowered his head and kissed her eyelids.
His lips traveled down along her delicate nose, then he captured her mouth, swallowing all her whimpers into his own.
His hand never released her ankle.
She grew dizzy from his kisses, her tearful almond eyes gradually turning hazy.
He looked down at that face—innocence laced with allure, those striking peach-blossom eyes utterly bewitching.
Only eighteen, her body so tender, born with seductive charm—even a man like him felt his mind going hazy.
The waves crashed over mercilessly.
He gathered her entirely into his arms, one arm wrapping around her bare back, his palm covering the back of her head, pressing her face into the crook of his neck.
She nestled in the hollow of his shoulder, breathing faintly, her fair back rising and falling gently, her shoulder blades fluttering like butterfly wings.
He tilted his head, kissing the top of her hair, her sweat-damp temples, his voice lower and softer than ever: “It’s okay, baby, it’s okay. Don’t be afraid.”
Her fingers clenched tight around the edge of the pillow.
!!!
Three months earlier.
The clusters of skyscrapers on both sides of Victoria Harbor shot columns of neon light in every direction, dyeing the entire stretch of sea into flowing gold.
The Gangjing Conglomerate was the true light source of this city that never slept.
Tonight, those powerful figures rarely seen in public had all gathered aboard a top-tier luxury cruise ship at the center of Victoria Harbor.
An open-air banquet hall, filled with perfume and glamour.
The celebrities and elites clustered in twos and threes, discussing stocks, real estate, and the outcome of this year’s Venus Art Awards.
“If you ask me, those two sisters from the Shen Family are truly remarkable.” A young heir leaned against the ship’s railing with champagne in hand, giving a thumbs-up to the group of hangers-on beside him.
“Last year, Shen Wanyue took the Venus Gold Award with her guzheng piece ‘Bright Moon.'”
“And barely any time later, her younger sister Shen Jinxin snatched this year’s Gold Award with her pipa piece ‘Butterfly.'”
“Two beauties in one family—unique in all of Gangjing.”
The people nearby immediately chimed in, their voices full of envy: “Isn’t that the truth.”
“Because of that award, a year ago Elder Lu personally arranged a marriage between Ninth Master and Shen Wanyue.”
“The most shocking part is that Ninth Master, for once, didn’t object.”
“You should have seen it, the socialites and heiresses hoping to marry into the Lu Family were left heartbroken all over the place.”
Whenever Ninth Master was mentioned, people instinctively lowered their voices.
Who in Gangjing didn’t know Lu Yuzhi, the ninth son of the Lu Family?
The U-shaped sofa area was the very heart of the cruise ship.
Lu Yuzhi sat, without question, in the seat of honor—broad shoulders, narrow waist, single-lidded phoenix eyes that regarded people with disdain and aloofness.
His long legs were crossed. When someone came over to toast him, he merely gave a slight nod.
Beside him sat Song Shiqian, the only son of Lu Yuzhi’s eldest brother, and the heir Lu Yuzhi intended to observe and cultivate.
Unlike Lu Yuzhi’s cold detachment, Song Shiqian had a pair of flirtatious peach-blossom eyes and an untamable personality; beautiful women had always flocked around him.
At the moment, he was lounging against the sofa’s armrest, idly spinning an empty wine glass in his hand, with several female companions gathered around him.
On Lu Yuzhi’s other side sat Shen Wanyue.
Eldest daughter of the Shen Family, gold medalist of the Venus Classical Music Award, and the universally acknowledged talented beauty of Gangjing’s socialite circle.
She wore a moonlight-white qipao, her hair pinned up with a white jade hairpin, the very picture of poise and elegance.
Her slender fingers held a peeled grape. Leaning slightly toward Lu Yuzhi, she offered it to him.
Her voice was gentle and intimate: “Ninth Master, these were air-shipped in just this morning. Have a taste.”
The gazes of the noble ladies nearby all converged on her some envious, some jealous.
After all, everyone knew Ninth Master kept his distance from women. When Elder Lu arranged this marriage, countless people had been waiting to see Shen Wanyue crash and burn.
Yet after a full year, Ninth Master hadn’t broken off the engagement he had even, on several public occasions, allowed Shen Wanyue to stand at his side.
Lu Yuzhi withdrew his gaze from the distant sea, glanced coolly at the grape, then turned his face away.
Not a single extra expression.
Shen Wanyue’s smile froze for an instant.
She lowered her lashes, set the grape on the edge of the fruit plate beside her, picked up a napkin, and unhurriedly wiped her fingers.
Her movements were graceful, betraying no loss of composure.
Just then, exclamations rose from across the room. “Who is that? I’ve never seen her before.”
“With that face, that figure, she must be some family’s hidden treasure, brought out tonight to show off.”
Mu Suihe stood at the entrance.
Willow-leaf brows, eyes brimming with feeling, skin whiter than snow, delicate bones like carved jade.
Merely standing there, she made people catch their breath.
She walked forward with graceful, swaying steps, her white dress setting off a figure as delicate as a willow in the breeze.
Those with weaker composure tilted their champagne glasses, nearly letting them slip.
Even the scions of wealthy families, long accustomed to beauties, stared with wide eyes.
Which family had raised such a rare treasure, only to finally unveil her tonight and stun the world?
Several older tycoons exchanged a meaningful glance.
A beauty like that, kept hidden away for years, released at precisely this moment, she must have come for Ninth Master.