The antique girlfriend of a chaebol heir

More than ten minutes ago.

Jiang Hexuan held a bouquet of beautiful roses with great joy, planning to "show off" to his wife.

To my surprise, as soon as I stepped into the inner room, I ran into Master Yang.

Master Yang is a highly respected and respected figure in Beijing's art world.

He was both a teacher and a friend to his wife, Ling Shuyun.

Jiang Hexuan felt a chill run down his spine; how could he dare to be "flirtatious" or presumptuous in front of his wife?

He quickly and neatly placed the bouquet aside, instantly suppressing all his thoughts, and even his posture became upright and reserved.

"Mr. Yang, it's been a long time."

Jiang Hexuan bowed slightly, his voice eight octaves lower than usual, carrying a hint of the respect typical of a junior.

"He Xuan is here." Master Yang put down his teacup. "Perfect timing. The most important painting hasn't been unveiled yet. Let's do it together in a bit."

"Okay, okay..." Jiang Hexuan nodded in agreement.

He knew that the painting covered with a cloth was the culmination of Ling Shuyun's entire year's effort and held extraordinary significance.

"Let me call Aduo over," Jiang Hexuan cleared his throat, looking at his wife. "Aduo just returned from abroad and is currently looking at paintings in the exhibition hall outside."

After saying that, Jiang Hexuan took out his phone and dialed his son's number.

busy tone.

I dialed again, but it was still busy.

He called three times in a row, but no one answered any of them.

"That brat," he muttered under his breath, his brow furrowing.

"Let's go out and look," Ling Shuyun said softly. "The venue isn't very big."

The three of them went out of the inner room, turned the corner, and came to the corridor.

You could see the whole area over there at a glance, but there was no sign of Jiang Duo.

"Mrs. Ling," a staff member in a black uniform approached from around the corner, bowing slightly, "how can I help you?"

"Have you seen a young man?" Jiang Hexuan turned to the side and described, "About this tall, wearing a light gray coat, quite handsome—"

Jiang Hexuan coughed lightly and then said, "He's quite handsome."

"Yes, sir."

The staff member gave a professional smile. "About ten minutes ago, that young man went through the emergency exit."

"OK, thanks."

Jiang Hexuan turned around and walked towards the safety door, not noticing the hesitant expression on the staff member's face.

He didn't have time to say it—

When the young man went in, he was still tightly holding onto a girl who looked like a fairy.

It made quite a commotion.

……

Ling Shuyun stared intently at her son's retreating figure, her heart feeling as if it were being gripped by an invisible giant hand, even her breath carrying the stench of blood.

The dim light in the stairwell acted like an old filter, casting an unreal hue over everything in front of me.

More than 20 years ago

It was also a dimly lit, cramped space.

The art studio late at night.

Outside the floor-to-ceiling windows, the lights of Beijing never go out.

She stood before the unfinished canvas, footsteps echoing behind her.

Then a pair of hands covered her eyes from behind, the palms calloused and burning hot.

She turned around, gasping, and bumped into a pair of young, intense eyes—the man's brows and eyes, his figure, the slightly trembling fingertips as he gripped the back of her head, filled with determination and ferocity, pinning her against the edge of the picture frame…

All of it was deeply imprinted in her mind.

It was the most unbearable memory of her life.

Now, twenty years later, these images have been cruelly resurrected in her son in another absurd way.

The curve of her back, the way she kissed, that almost predatory possessiveness—all of it was buried deep in her bones.

At this moment, it was being ripped out piece by piece, dripping with blood.

Jiang Hexuan saw that all the color had drained from his wife's face.

Her whole being resembled a watercolor painting stripped of all color, exuding a chilling stillness.

He instinctively reached out, wanting to support her swaying shoulders, but the moment he touched her fabric, she abruptly shook him off.

At this moment, Shen Ci even forgot that she could still breathe.

The surrounding air seemed to be sucked out instantly, and she felt her heart pounding violently from lack of oxygen, like a fish dying of thirst.

Apart from the burning sensation from their lips touching, she lost all her senses, and her mind was left with only a chaotic blank.

It wasn't until Jiang Duo finally released her that Shen Ci regained a sliver of clarity amidst her utter bewilderment.

His gaze slowly refocused, first noticing Jiang Duo's Adam's apple bobbing up and down so close to his face;

Then there were the corners of his lips, slightly pursed, carrying a hint of languid contentment;

Finally, there were his eyes—dark and deep, still burning with an lingering embers, yet strangely containing a hint of a smile.

"you!"

She was so angry she didn't even know what to say.

The voice was squeezed out of his throat, hoarse and unlike his own.

Jiang Duo quickly admitted his mistake.

"Youyou, don't be angry later, okay?"

His voice was low and husky, his breath brushing against her burning earlobe.

After saying that, he tilted his head slightly, gesturing for her to look towards the door.

Shen Ci followed his gaze, looking over in confusion, and then felt as if she had fallen into an ice cave—

Two men and one woman stood two meters away at the safety gate, like three stone statues, their faces showing unspeakable embarrassment.

When did Master Yang and Aunt Ling arrive?!

Was it during her absurd entanglement with Jiang Duo?!

This realization was like a bucket of ice water poured over my head.

Shen Ci's face turned deathly pale instantly, yet her red lips, which had been brutally ravaged, still shimmered with a glistening sheen.

She trembled slightly uncontrollably, and under the gaze of those few eyes, she exuded an extremely pitiful and vulnerable charm.

Jiang Duo held her wrist.

He gently rubbed her pulse point with his thumb; the touch was somewhat soothing, yet it only made her more anxious.

She tried to pull her hand away, but he gripped it tighter and even took a half step forward, partially shielding her behind him.

"Dad, Mom..." Jiang Duo began, his voice slightly hoarse from the kiss, yet strangely steady.

Dad? Mom?

Shen Ci felt that her heart couldn't take it anymore.

The gentle and beautiful Aunt Ling—is actually Jiang Duo's mother?!

All of this is too bizarre.

Master Yang stood on the far left, his gaze shifting back and forth between her and Jiang Duo, his lips pressed into a stiff line, his brows furrowed so deeply they could trap a mosquito.

He broke the silence first, speaking in a dry voice: "Shuyun, this is your son. He is indeed...a handsome young man."

A hypocrite, a beast in human clothing!

The harsh words rolled around on his tongue, but ultimately, due to his status as an elder and the occasion, he swallowed them back down.

The image of Shen Ci when he first met her involuntarily flashed into his mind.

The young girl, not yet twenty, looked as if she had stepped out of a traditional Chinese ink painting. Holding the inner-painting brush, her movements were as steady as those of a seasoned veteran.

Shen Ci was the most talented apprentice he had ever met in all these years, and also a good girl he wanted to protect from the bottom of his heart.

But now?

The aloof and pure-looking girl was pinned down in the stairwell by this brat and bullied into this state.

If looks could materialize, Jiang Duo would probably have been stabbed several times by now.