Chapter 16: Zhou Jingyi, Do You Think I’m Well-Behaved?

Shen Xue’s gaze was hazy, her eyes filled with longing. She was aroused, her emotions stirred, but in the end, at the critical moment, they still hadn’t succeeded. This was the second time they had failed. A woman whose desire is left unsatisfied is inevitably left restless and irritable. Yet Shen Xue took a deep breath, forcing herself to sit up on the bed, her body slick with sweat as she wrapped her arms around Zhou Mingfan, holding him tightly against her.

She pressed her cheek to his, planting a gentle kiss on his chin. “It’s all right. The feelings between us don’t need anything else to sustain them. My love for you is enough.”

Zhou Mingfan felt a tangled mess of emotions. Why couldn’t he do it? Shen Xue tried to comfort him with her kisses. Zhou Mingfan’s hand lingered on her face, caressing her skin, and he could feel her longing as well. He said softly, “I can… use other ways to please you.” With that, he lifted the covers and bent down toward her.

—

The next day, the spring breeze was gentle and warm; each day seemed brighter and more vibrant than the last. Life was returning to the world. Even the dry, bare branches were sprouting tender new buds. Everywhere was green.

Wen Ni followed Zhou Jingyi outside. Beside the old master, Zhou Chengli spoke softly, “Jingyi is still young, and he spends all day and night with Wen Ni. I’m just worried…”

Before Zhou Chengli could finish, the old master cut him off, his tone brooking no argument. “Jingyi isn’t like you. He may be younger, but he has more self-control than any of you. He knows what he should and shouldn’t do.”

Zhou Chengli fell silent, quickly agreeing. As he lowered his eyes, a subtle, inscrutable look flashed through them. Indeed, the old man’s favorite would always be the youngest.

The old master turned and walked away. Though he had dismissed Zhou Chengli’s concerns, they nonetheless served as a reminder. Jingyi was no longer a child; perhaps it was time to consider his prospects for marriage. He must choose carefully—he would not let the youngest end up with a foolish woman like the eldest’s wife. A woman was the fortune and root of a household. Marrying a good woman could spare a man many hardships. With this thought, the old master was more determined than ever to select with care.

—

Elsewhere.

In the car, Wen Ni slumped to one side, her head spinning. “Zhou Jingyi, I feel a bit sick. Yesterday I pricked my hand with an embroidery needle. Do you think I might have gotten tetanus?”

Zhou Jingyi glanced at her through the rearview mirror, saying nothing. Wen Ni pressed on, “Can you take me to the hospital?”

Only then did Zhou Jingyi reply in a low voice, “Even if you had rabies, you’d have to hold out until you leave the studio.”

Wen Ni rubbed her aching temples. Her head felt as if it were being pounded by a hammer—dull, throbbing waves of pain. The skin around her eyes felt tight and rusty; her eyes ached and burned, as though they had been corroded by chemicals. She knew she must be coming down with something. Likely, her emotions had been wound too tight for too long, her immune system finally breaking down. She’d always been like this since childhood.

Zhou Jingyi continued to follow the navigation, driving steadily toward the studio. Wen Ni closed her eyes, willing her mind to go blank. If she thought less, it might hurt less.

The black Cullinan stopped at the entrance of the studio. Zhou Jingyi opened the door and got out. When the person in the back seat didn’t move for a long time, he frowned impatiently, circled around, and pulled open the door. “Wen Ni.”

Wen Ni’s eyes suddenly flew open, as if waking from a dream. She glanced outside, finally realizing, “Oh, we’re here.” Forcing her aching, weak legs to move, she got out of the car. As her feet touched the ground, the world spun and blurred before her eyes—she lost control, pitching forward.

Zhou Jingyi caught her arm in time, steadying her. Wen Ni squeezed her eyes shut. “Thanks, let’s go.”

As her arm slipped from Zhou Jingyi’s grasp, her fingers brushed over his palm—he noticed the unnatural heat of her skin. He glanced at her coolly, but Wen Ni had already walked to the studio door. “Come on.”

Zhou Jingyi followed. Wen Ni’s assistant, Ning Sui, hurried over. “Ms. Wen.”

Wen Ni nodded. “How’s the progress?”

Ning Sui replied, “Everything is proceeding according to plan. If nothing unexpected happens, we should finish before the deadline. But there’s not enough silk for the flora and fauna embroidery—just enough for three or five more days. I’ll need to restock tomorrow.”

For years, the Wen family’s silk embroidery had sourced its thread from traditional craftsmen in a particular town. In the world of silk tapestry, different silk and dyes—even with the same embroiderer—produced pieces as different as clouds and mud.

Wen Ni gave a soft acknowledgement. Ning Sui eyed her with concern. “Ms. Wen, are you feeling unwell?”

Wen Ni shook her head. “I’m fine. For the final stretch, keep a close eye on the studio for me. This luxury heritage collaboration is vital to the Wen family, and to the entire national silk tapestry tradition.”

Ning Sui nodded firmly, urging, “Don’t worry, Ms. Wen. Please, just go see a doctor.”

Wen Ni introduced Zhou Jingyi to Ning Sui. “Mr. Zhou Jingyi will be taking over from Zhou Mingfan and overseeing the luxury collaboration project. Get to know each other.”

Ning Sui gave Zhou Jingyi a quick once-over, unable to help herself from marveling at how all the Zhous seemed so strikingly handsome. Wen Ni patted Ning Sui’s shoulder with a smile. “Go on, get back to work. I’ll show Mr. Zhou around the completed pieces, and then we’ll leave.”

Ning Sui replied briskly and walked off to her tasks, leaving Wen Ni to lead Zhou Jingyi into the exhibition room.

Wen Ni sat down on the sofa, gesturing around at the works filling the room. “This is the kingdom I’ve built—take your time and look.”

The air still carried the natural fragrance of silk and plant dyes. Sunlight poured through the windows, seeming to breathe life into the embroideries. Whether it was the lifelike birds and flowers, or the layered mountains and rivers, each piece was exquisite, vivid beyond words.

Next to each displayed work was the name of its creator: Wen Xiulan, Wen Ni’s grandmother; Wen Zhiman, her mother; Wen Juncai, her father, who had betrayed them. There was only one piece by Wen Ni herself—or rather, two. The second was set off to the side, a shapeless thing, childishly crafted, labeled as Wen Ni’s work at age six.

Zhou Jingyi lingered before the childish piece for a while before finally walking away. “Let’s go.”

Wen Ni yawned, rising unsteadily to her feet. She led the way out, but as soon as they stepped through the door, she swayed and bumped into Zhou Jingyi.

He held onto her arm, keeping her steady. Wen Ni tilted her head back, laughing weakly. “Zhou Jingyi, you told me to hold out until we left the studio, and I did. Wasn’t I good?”