On the night when she was publicly humiliated by Lu Beichen, the crown prince of Beijing, Shen Qingyao did something bolder with the help of alcohol.
She broke into the private territory of the man who even Lu Beichen was in awe of.
"Mr. Lu," her eyes were flushed, with a broken beauty, but her voice was so soft and seductive, "your son said that I am not even qualified to carry his shoes."
Lu Yanshen sat in the dim light, twisting a string of Buddhist beads between his fingers, his temperament as cold as the top of a snow-capped mountain. He raised his eyes and his gaze fell silently on her face, without any ripples.
The next second, Shen Qingyao stumbled forward, and her soft lips pressed directly onto his slightly cool thin lips.
The beads suddenly stopped.
At the first touch, she gasped and chuckled, like a successful goblin: "Lick him? Why don't you... Let Mr. Lu, kneel down and call me mommy from now on."
Everyone said that Lu Yannan, the Buddha in Beijing, is like the white snow in the clouds, unstained by dust and sand.
But at that moment, Shen Qingyao clearly saw the ink in his eyes that was enough to burn her. His bony hands clasped the back of her neck and pushed her back onto the sofa. His hot breath touched her ears, praising her for being good.
Later, Lu Beichen begged for reconciliation with red eyes outside her house: "Yaoyao, I know I was wrong, give me another chance..."
Inside the door, Lu Yanshen was pressing Shen Qingyao against the door. His fingertips were stroking the ambiguous red marks on her neck, and his voice was low and seductive:
"Be good, call me Nizi."
