The Cinnabar Mole of a Beijing Circle Tycoon

Looking at her shy appearance, Meng Jiangyu's emotions, which had been suppressed all night, finally broke down completely. "I'll do it."

He lowered his head slightly, his forehead gently touching hers, their noses brushing against each other, their breaths mingling, carrying each other's warmth and scent.

"Shen Qingyao..." he called her name softly, his voice so tender it could melt hearts.

Shen Qingyao responded softly, her voice barely audible.

The next second, Meng Jiangyu tilted his head slightly and gently kissed her lips.

It wasn't the polite, light kiss at the banquet that everyone was watching, but a truly passionate and tender kiss that belonged only to the two of them.

His lips were cool and soft, carrying a faint aroma of whiskey. His movements were gentle and devout as he traced the shape of her lips, patiently and meticulously.

"Wife."

Shen Qingyao's body trembled slightly, and she subconsciously closed her eyes, reaching out to gently wrap her arms around his neck.

All the longing and anticipation of the entire night erupted completely in this kiss.

Outside the window, the night was gentle and the stars were shining. In the room, only a small, warm yellow lamp was lit by the bedside, its light hazy and ambiguous, gently enveloping the two figures.

The kiss deepened little by little, from a gentle probing to a passionate embrace.

The air temperature rose rapidly, and the once quiet room was filled only with their shallow breathing and heartbeats, weaving together into the most moving melody.

Meng Jiangyu's kiss was filled with the utmost tenderness and doting, landing gently on her eyebrows, nose, and cheeks, before finally returning to her lips, tender yet forceful.

Shen Qingyao's body went limp from his kisses, her previous exhaustion vanished without a trace, leaving only a heart full of excitement and dependence. She let him gently place her there, immersing her in the hot yet tender night that belonged only to them.

After the wedding, Meng Jiangyu took Shen Qingyao on their honeymoon trip to Europe.

When the plane landed in Paris, it was early morning, and a thin mist enveloped the entire city. The Eiffel Tower revealed half of its elegant outline in the hazy light.

Shen Qingyao leaned against the porthole, her eyes sparkling as she looked out, a smile playing on her lips.

Meng Jiangyu sat beside her, holding her hand, his fingertips gently stroking the back of her hand. Looking at her joyful expression, the doting look in his eyes was almost overflowing.

From Paris to Provence, from Venice to Florence, from the snow-capped mountains of Switzerland to the Aegean Sea of ​​Greece, a month was spent leisurely traveling through half of Europe, filling all the romance and tenderness into their shared memories.

In Paris, they avoided the crowded tourist attractions, and the sunlight fell on her hair, as gentle as an oil painting.

In the afternoon, they strolled hand in hand along the Seine, watching the water flow gently and street performers play guitar and sing tender love songs. Occasionally, they would stop and sit in a roadside café, enjoying a cup of coffee and a dessert. No need for many words; simply cuddling together quietly was enough to make it beautiful.

As evening falls, they will slowly walk to the foot of the Eiffel Tower. When the entire tower lights up, amidst the twinkling starlight and lights, Meng Jiangyu will lower his head and kiss his wife. The evening breeze carries romance, enveloping the two of them tightly.

Meng Jiangyu has always been a decisive person with a strong sense of time. He always makes the most of every second at work, but when he is with Shen Qingyao, he is willing to slow down all the pace.

Shen Qingyao loved browsing the vintage shops along the street and admiring the exquisite jewelry and fragrances in the shop windows. He patiently accompanied her through each shop, his gaze always fixed on her, never looking away.

When you see something she likes, before she can even say anything, say, "Honey, if you like it, buy it all as a souvenir."

"Okay, honey."

Leaving Paris, they headed to Provence in the height of summer.

The vast lavender fields stretch from your feet to the horizon, the purple-blue sea of ​​flowers undulating in the wind, the air filled with a sweet and rich floral fragrance.

Shen Qingyao excitedly ran into the flower field. Her white dress stood out brightly against the purple sea of ​​flowers. She turned around and waved to Meng Jiangyu. When she smiled, her eyes were even more radiant than the entire flower field.

Meng Jiangyu held up his camera, capturing the beautiful moments. Occasionally, he would put down the camera, stride over, and embrace her. Amidst the sea of ​​flowers, he would kiss away the petals that had touched the tip of her nose.

They lived in a country estate in Provence, sitting in the courtyard in the evening to watch the sunset, seeing the afterglow paint the sky a gentle orange-pink, and listening to the distant church bells ringing softly.

No work to disturb me, no worldly troubles, only my beloved and boundless tranquility.

Meng Jiangyu held Shen Qingyao in his arms and whispered to her about their future plans, about taking her on a trip every year, about wanting to have a lovely baby with her, and about everything about "us" for the rest of our lives.

Shen Qingyao leaned against his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat.

Afterwards, they traveled by boat to Venice.

The winding waterways, the swaying gondolas, and the weathered ancient buildings—everywhere is filled with poetry.

The boatman rowed his boat with his famous oars, weaving through the staggered buildings, his singing melodious and gentle.

Meng Jiangyu held Shen Qingyao's hand and sat at the bow of the boat. She leaned on his shoulder and watched the sunlight sprinkle on the water, breaking into a shimmering expanse of light.

They kissed under the Bridge of Sighs. Locals say that lovers who kiss under the Bridge of Sighs will stay together for life.

Meng Jiangyu held her tightly and whispered a promise in her ear: "Wife, I will treat you well for the rest of my life and never let go of your hand."

After leaving Venice, the two went to Florence, the art capital, strolling through streets filled with Renaissance monuments, admiring the exquisite frescoes in churches, and visiting art galleries that house countless treasures.

Shen Qingyao loved these historical buildings and art pieces, and Meng Jiangyu patiently accompanied her to admire them one by one. Even though he wasn't particularly enthusiastic about art, he was willing to calm down and appreciate the beauty for her sake.

They ate authentic Italian pasta and drank fine red wine at a street-side restaurant, strolled in the square at night, watched street performers dance joyfully, hand in hand, step by step, turning ordinary moments into the most romantic times.

For the second half of their trip, they went to the Swiss Alps.

The snow-capped mountains in summer lack the harshness of winter, instead possessing a freshness and gentleness. The mountains are covered with green grass and wildflowers, and the distant mountain peaks are covered with snow. The air is so clean that it is intoxicating.

Meng Jiangyu took Shen Qingyao by cable car to the top of the mountain. Looking down at the rolling mountains and sea of ​​clouds, Shen Qingyao excitedly hugged his waist, looked up at him, and her eyes were full of light.

He lowered his head and kissed her, making the most solemn promise atop the snow-capped mountain, under the blue sky and white clouds.