Wealthy lady

When Ye Mian finished tidying up, she emerged wrapped in a thick winter robe. Thankfully, the wardrobe held men’s robes for the cold season; when she put it on, it resembled a dress, and she cinched the belt tightly around her waist. After repeatedly confirming that there was no chance of exposure, she finally opened the bathroom door.

Because of her physical discomfort, her steps were a little unsteady. But Jiang Chen was no longer in the living room. Beside the sofa lay the string of brown prayer beads. Her gaze searched the room, and she saw the man standing by the floor-to-ceiling windows, apparently speaking softly on the phone.

His features seemed to shine with light; from every angle, his face was flawless. He spoke with calm composure, his temperament pure and tranquil. He heard the sound of the door opening, turned his head, and his gaze lingered on her for two seconds. With his slender, fair fingertip, he pointed toward the table.

Ye Mian followed his gesture, lowering her eyes. On the table sat a cup of hot water and a packet of painkillers.

Her palm grew slightly damp—not from nervousness, but a quiet calm. She opened a pill, placed it in her mouth, and drank the warm water. Then she settled onto the soft sofa, waiting for the medicine to take effect.

During this time, Jiang Chen continued his phone call. Outside, the drizzle swayed against the window; his voice, as if afraid to disturb her rest, was deliberately lowered. The misty cadence melded into the night.

Ye Mian curled up in the corner of the sofa, beneath the gentle light overhead, suddenly feeling a rare peace. This sense of security came from his repeated offerings of comfort.

Her phone buzzed—a message from Ye Haisheng, asking if she’d found a room for the night. Ye Mian hurried to reply that she had, telling him not to worry and to enjoy drinks with Uncle.

The next moment, Jiang Chen ended his call. His gaze was steady, quietly sweeping over her brows and eyes, and he asked in a low voice, "Does your stomach still hurt?"

Ye Mian shook her head. "No, it’s better now." Once the medicine took effect, her whole body felt lighter, though a bit sleepy.

Jiang Chen nodded, took a room card from the cabinet, and placed it gently on the table. "If you’re tired, just go rest."

Ye Mian picked up the card and took out her phone. "I’ll transfer the room fee to you—don’t forget to accept it."

The rain outside murmured steadily, and paired with Jiang Chen’s enchanting face, it was impossible to keep a clear head. As she unlocked her phone, his gaze inadvertently swept across her screen.

Just a glance, and he saw the wallpaper: a photo of the two of them, their faces close together, both smiling radiantly.

His fingers trembled.

Ye Mian was someone he could never escape. After seeing countless details, this feeling only grew stronger.

He stared at her for a long time, saying nothing. Even as the transfer notification sounded, he didn’t avert his gaze or glance at his phone.

He didn’t really understand what it meant to like someone, but wherever he was, he only wished to move toward her.

And she… She’d said she liked him.

Yet she always treated him like a penniless boy who needed to be reimbursed for even the room fee.

He couldn’t help but wonder if the girl simply liked the pitiful type.

Tsk. What a peculiar taste.

...

Ye Mian blinked, putting her phone down after the transfer, and didn’t shy away from his gaze. Instead, she felt a touch of incredulity.

Jiang Chen, lost in thought? She’d never seen it before.

She didn’t disturb his reverie, regarding his behavior as a rare spectacle.

...Though perhaps only she thought so.

Jiang Chen took in all her little movements and delight, watching her intently.

Maybe it was because of all he’d experienced in the past two years; when he grew serious, the warmth in his eyes faded, leaving him looking cold and ascetic. Especially when he didn’t smile, his aura seemed even more aloof.

After a few seconds, Ye Mian couldn’t hold back anymore. She covered her flushed face.

"Jiang Chen, what are you looking at?"

Jiang Chen’s gaze shifted from her nose to her moist eyes, his fingers twisting the prayer beads idly. Then, the corner of his lips curled into a half-teasing smile.

"I’m just wondering how much money you still have to transfer to me."

Ye Mian: ...

To be fair, the smile on Jiang Chen’s face was evident as he said this, though perhaps there was another meaning behind his words.

Still, Ye Mian couldn’t help but think of those scenes in shady industries where handsome men asked rich women for money.

She even imagined Jiang Chen as an escort; no matter which wealthy woman sat across from him, she’d surely hand over her cash.

She speared a piece of apple with a toothpick, and before bringing it to her mouth, she began to calculate seriously, responding to his remark, "Quite a bit, actually. Do you want it?"

Jiang Chen suddenly rose, blocking most of the light. He bent down, lowering his head. "Yes."

In the dim light, Ye Mian saw his eyes fixed tightly on hers. He bit down on the piece of apple with his lips.

His breath brushed gently against her fingers.

The warmth made the hand holding the toothpick tingle, the sensation spreading through every cell in her body with her blood flow.

It felt like nothing was natural; she didn’t know where to place her hands, so she gently set the toothpick by the fruit plate, striving to control her emotions and feign composure.

Calm—

It’s just an apple, isn’t it?

She took a deep breath and then asked, "How… how much do you want?"

Oh no, she stammered!

At that moment, Ye Mian wished she could knock herself out with a slap.

What a mortifying scene, oh dear.

Had she never seen a handsome man before?

Jiang Chen let out a low laugh from his throat, but didn’t rush to answer. He picked up the teacup from the table, took a slow sip of water, and then said carelessly, "How much do you think I’m worth?"

His voice was tender, and when lowered, especially captivating.

Ye Mian froze on the spot.

Her ears flushed instantly.

It wasn’t that she was overthinking; it was just that Jiang Chen was too... tempting. The contrast with the aloof immortal image in her memory was overwhelming.

She even felt grateful she hadn’t indulged recently in spicy food—otherwise, her nosebleed would’ve surely made an appearance today, as a tribute to his magnificent face.

"What’s wrong?" Jiang Chen saw she was silent, his fingers tapping idly on his phone. "Is it hard to part with? That’s rather hurtful."

Ye Mian’s eyes darted around, her heart pounding so loudly only she could hear it. She swallowed.

When the last bit of reason in her mind slipped away, only mischief remained.

She recalled a year filled with occasional grievances, sometimes fierce longing.

That stifled, secret infatuation had never faded, heavy as sand and stone, lodged in her chest, growing stronger.

Ye Mian didn’t know what had come over her.

She took out a wad of cash from her bag.

She rarely used cash, so it was about a thousand yuan.

Standing up under Jiang Chen’s gaze, she placed the money beside his hand. "I’m afraid you won’t accept it on WeChat; I only have this much cash for now. Is it enough?"

Under the ceiling lamp, Jiang Chen’s eyes shone especially bright, his grey-black pupils filled with Ye Mian.

Next chapter: Is it enough? Then give me... hehehe.

(End of this chapter)