Those words were beautifully put.
They brushed aside the fact that Shen Jinxin had locked someone up, and instead made it seem like Mu Suihe was the immature one who worried everyone.
The servants nearby kept their heads lowered, eyes on their noses and noses on their hearts, not daring to make a sound.
Shen Jinxin understood her sister’s meaning, swallowed her anger, crossed her arms, and huffed, “Exactly, you had me worried half to death.”
Watching the two sisters put on this little act together, Mu Suihe silently turned and headed upstairs.
At the corner of the staircase, she heard Shen Jinxin’s lowered voice drift up from below: “Sis, how do you think she got out? I clearly…”
“Shut up.” Shen Wanyue’s voice turned cold. “Haven’t embarrassed yourself enough?”
“I…”
“However she got out, she’s back now. If you keep making a scene, do you want to blow this up and let everyone know you locked her in the piano room?”
Shen Jinxin fell silent.
Mu Suihe continued upstairs, returned to her room, and closed the door.
She switched on the small desk lamp, took out her calculus book, and opened it.
The page with the little pig drawing was still there.
Mu Suihe stared at that page for a while, her finger gently tracing across the paper.
Today, when Lu Yuzhi had kicked the door open and charged in—such a tall man, with such strength, the door gave way in just two kicks.
His first reaction had been to grab her arm and check her over, spinning her around to make sure she wasn’t hurt.
Mu Suihe was no fool.
She could tell that Lu Yuzhi treated her differently.
Attraction to beauty, plus a man’s possessiveness and protective instinct toward the weak.
That kind of tenderness could be exploited.
Mu Suihe understood her situation very clearly.
The Shen Family treated her as a tool, Shen Jinxin could bully her at any time, and Shen Wanyue, gentle on the surface, actually held leverage over her.
She needed a backer, needed someone who could protect her, until she married Song Shiqian and completely escaped the Shen Family.
Lu Yuzhi was Song Shiqian’s younger uncle, the power holder of the Lu Family, someone even the Shen Family had to curry favor with.
If she could borrow his influence…
Mu Suihe lowered her eyes, picking at the edge of the textbook.
At the arts building today, she really had entertained that thought.
Pretend weakness at the right moment, lean on him at the right moment, make him cherish her even more at the right moment.
That was not hard for her.
She was born knowing how to soften a man’s heart, how to make men want to protect her.
It was an instinct carved into her bones—even with her memories blurred, she naturally knew how to manipulate people’s hearts.
If only she wanted to.
But…
Mu Suihe remembered the cafeteria, Meng Wantang picking up chicken with her chopsticks and holding it to her lips, her tone like coaxing a child: “Ah, open up.”
And at the end, the disappointment in her eyes.
She closed her eyes and let out a long breath.
Forget it. It was rare to meet two people who had even a little genuine feeling for her.
Meng Wantang was one. Lu Yuzhi was the other.
Though that bit of sincerity might be shallow, might vanish in an instant, at least in this moment it was genuinely rare.
Besides…
Mu Suihe opened her eyes and looked at the little pig wearing glasses in the textbook.
Lu Yuzhi—she couldn’t quite see through that man.
Cold and aloof on the surface, but with madness hidden deep in his bones.
The ferocity when he kicked the door open today, that darkened expression—all of it gave her a faint sense of danger.
A man like that—if she seduced him, used him, and then abandoned him for Song Shiqian…
Mu Suihe didn’t dare imagine the consequences.
A man who had long occupied such a high position, if he truly went mad for her, even the Shen Family and the Song Family combined probably couldn’t stop him.
Unless she could keep deceiving him forever, it was better not to provoke him lightly.
But she was the novel’s female lead, destined to marry Song Shiqian—she certainly couldn’t deceive him forever. So for now, she had to give up this exploitable backer.
Mu Suihe fished a sketchbook out from the very bottom of her drawer.
The complete score of Bright Moon, her adaptation of Butterfly, and a few pieces she had improvised herself.
Shen Wanyue and Shen Jinxin had won gold awards with these, had climbed to the Lu Family and the Song Family on the strength of these.
And she, the true creator, could only hide in a dark room, playing piano she didn’t like over and over again.
Mu Suihe’s fingers brushed over the notes on the paper, a flash of coldness passing through her eyes.
Not relying on Lu Yuzhi didn’t mean she had to let herself be slaughtered.
What the Shen Family had taken from her, she would take back sooner or later.
As for how…
If she had to rely on herself, she would need to endure a while longer, waiting for an opportunity.
An opportunity that could ruin the Shen sisters completely while letting her escape unscathed.
Until then, she had to be good, be weak, look utterly harmless.
Just like today in the piano room—huddled in a corner, waiting for someone to come save her.
And that someone had best be Song Shiqian, because he was the one and only male lead.
And Lu Yuzhi was merely a supporting character.
The night was still. Lu Yuzhi lay in bed, and in his dreams he was back in that piano room.
The moment he pushed open the door, Mu Suihe threw herself into his arms, her slender white arms wrapping tightly around his waist.
She tilted her small face up, her almond eyes reflecting his image.
She took his large hand and gently pressed it against the side of her slim waist.
His palm was so big it could almost cover her entire waist dimple.
She nestled into his embrace, looking up at him with tender affection: “Ninth Master, you saved me, and I have nothing to repay you with. Won’t you take me as your own?”
Lu Yuzhi heard his own voice, hoarse beyond reason: “You know who I am.”
“I do.” She rose on tiptoe, her flushed lips almost brushing his jaw, her breath light and soft.
“You’re the Ninth Master.”
“You’re far more capable than Song Shiqian. You save me, you buy me delicious things, and you pat my head.” She tilted her head slightly, her lips grazing his Adam’s apple.
“And you’re better looking than he is.”
Lu Yuzhi’s arms tightened, and he lifted her entirely, setting her on the piano.
She gave a soft cry, her slender white legs dangling over the edge of the piano, her skirt sliding up to her thighs.
Her skin was so fair that even in the dim light it gleamed like cold jade.
He stood between her legs, one hand cradling the back of her head, and lowered his head to kiss her.
Her lips were soft and tender; he took her lower lip between his and sucked hard.
She turned her head away, her lips brushing the corner of his mouth, and let out a petulant little hum: “You kissed too hard. It hurt.”