After a One-Night Stand with a Seductive Bad Woman - Chapter 22

Rong Yi glanced at her indifferently.

 

Lu Jia hesitated, wanting to speak but holding back.

 

“Professor Rong, what a coincidence!” Sheng Shubai said, not hearing Lu Jia’s response. As she pushed open the frosted glass door, she saw Rong Yi’s gaze flick toward her.

 

Sheng Shubai hadn’t paid much attention to the commotion outside, only knowing that Lu Jia was talking to someone.

 

Now, having run into Rong Yi head-on, she showed no embarrassment whatsoever, maintaining an air of righteous composure.

 

Even though it was nearly dark outside.

 

“Professor Sheng, perhaps you should explain why you’re here,” Rong Yi asked, her voice cold.

 

Sheng Shubai smirked. “Lu Jia and I are close. I came to invite her out for dinner. Is that not allowed?”

 

Refusing to waste another glance on Rong Yi, she turned toward the coffee table, bending down to retrieve the lipstick she had been looking for earlier.

 

The metallic, cylindrical tube gleamed softly under the overhead light as she held it between her fingertips.

 

Sheng Shubai didn’t re-enter the bathroom. Instead, she walked over to Lu Jia, or rather, stopped in front of the full-length mirror by the entrance, bringing the lipstick close to her lips.

 

“You two can chat,” she said lightly, adopting an aloof, detached tone. “Don’t mind me.”

 

Rong Yi: …

 

Lu Jia glanced back at Sheng Shubai, then turned to her mentor, whose expression had visibly darkened. She quickly interjected, “Professor, I’ll study the materials carefully. If there’s nothing else, I won’t take up any more of your time.”

 

Rong Yi shot her a sidelong glance and murmured, “Mm.”

 

“Professor Rong, please wait.”

 

Sheng Shubai snapped the lipstick closed, the crisp click echoing sharply in the small entrance hall.

 

Rong Yi had already begun to turn away, her stiff movement halting halfway before she twisted back around, a premonition of trouble settling in her heart. After all, what good could this woman possibly have to say?

 

Sheng Shubai flashed a conspicuously polite smile. “Since the opening ceremony isn’t until tomorrow, if Xiao Lu has no other commitments today, would you mind if she came home with me? Professor Rong, would you approve?”

 

This time, Sheng Shubai was being considerate by informing Rong Yi in advance, preventing the woman from later accusing him of taking her student away without permission.

 

He cast a reassuring glance at Lu Jia and waited with a cheerful smile for Rong Yi’s reaction.

 

Seeing the woman’s fox-like grin, Rong Yi frowned warily. “What are you planning?”

 

Go home?

 

Lu Jia wasn’t a member of the Sheng Family. What home was there to return to?

 

“To show her the paintings, of course,” Sheng Shubai added. “The family’s private collection. I’ll give Lu Jia a special tour. Professor Rong doesn’t mind, does she?”

 

Rong Yi breathed a sigh of relief.

 

She was well aware of Sheng Shubai’s family background and couldn’t possibly object to Lu Jia’s visit under these circumstances.

 

Compared to the large-scale print exhibition in Z City, the private collection of the Sheng Family—a lineage of printmaking masters spanning generations—held treasures of immeasurable value.

 

Sheng Shubai’s willingness to let her student witness these masterpieces firsthand was something she should be grateful for.

 

After a few moments of deliberation, she nodded silently. “Return early.”

 

“That’s hard to say,” Sheng Shubai replied with a knowing smile. “After all, if you get lost in thought in front of a masterpiece, hours might slip by before you realize it.”

 

Pushing her luck.

 

Rong Yi, unwilling to engage further, quietly instructed Lu Jia, “Be careful and contact me if you need anything.”

 

Lu Jia, listening to their back-and-forth, could only nod repeatedly, never finding an opening to interject.

 

After seeing Rong Yi to the elevator, Lu Jia returned and closed the door, then asked, puzzled, “Professor Sheng, when did you say I was going home with you?”

 

“What? Others would beg for a chance to see my home, and you’re not happy about being invited?” Sheng Shubai tapped Lu Jia’s forehead. “Fine, if you don’t want to, forget it.”

 

“I do!”

 

Lu Jia had long grown accustomed to the gentle, teasing taps on her forehead, the slight pressure carrying a hint of mock annoyance. She tilted her head in response to the touch, then straightened up. “Then I’ll come to your place tomorrow morning.”

 

Sheng Shubai withdrew her hand. “No, we’re leaving now.”

 

“Aren’t we going to the exhibition?” Lu Jia asked.

 

Sheng Shubai raised an eyebrow slightly. “Didn’t we agree I’d give you a massage tonight? Why not just come to my place? You can sleep in longer tomorrow.”

 

Lu Jia nodded, finding the logic sound, and reached for her phone. “Then I’ll tell Rong—”

 

Before she could finish, Sheng Shubai snatched the phone away.

 

“We’re just staying there because we were out too late eating and shopping, and my place is closer,” Sheng Shubai said, her tone exasperated. “Understand?”

 

Lu Jia paused, then nodded. “Okay.”

 

They hadn’t even gone out to eat yet, so how could they possibly know they’d be out too late?

 

But judging by Sheng Shubai’s tone and expression, Lu Jia didn’t dare voice her confusion.

 

The hotel was near the exhibition center but still a considerable distance from the city center.

 

By the time they arrived in the bustling commercial district, the bread Lu Jia had eaten earlier had already been digested.

 

When Sheng Shubai asked what she wanted to eat, Lu Jia replied, “Miss Sheng, it’s my first time in Z City. I’m happy to try anything.”

 

Knowing Sheng Shubai was from Z City, Lu Jia naturally assumed she would have recommendations.

 

But Sheng Shubai’s expression remained impassive.

 

In previous years, when Sheng Shubai returned to the suburbs around this time, her visits were always brief, sometimes even turning around immediately.

 

Come to think of it, she…

 

“I’m not very familiar with this place either,” Sheng Shubai murmured. “I don’t even know if the old shops are still open.”

 

The car circled a few shopping malls before stopping at the entrance of a slightly less imposing food street.

 

At this hour, only pedestrians were allowed inside; vehicles were prohibited.

 

Sheng Shubai vaguely remembered seeing photos of this street on social media a couple of years ago, but she couldn’t be sure if the restaurant she was looking for still existed.

 

Z City’s food street was renowned. As it approached the transition between dinner and late-night snacks, the street was already bustling with mobile stalls lining both sides of the narrow road, making it feel even more crowded.

 

“Be careful not to get separated,” Sheng Shubai said, taking Lu Jia’s hand and waiting for the girl to return the grip.

 

The climate here was much more pleasant than in C City. The evening temperature had already dropped, carrying a hint of coolness. Even amidst the noisy, smoky street, it didn’t feel stifling.

 

They walked slowly, stopping frequently to glance at the shop signs and street numbers.

 

Halfway down the street, Sheng Shubai finally paused, tilting her head to look up at the somewhat unfamiliar sign: Grandma Chen’s Restaurant.

 

The restaurant’s location remained largely unchanged, perhaps shifted slightly inward. The space hadn’t expanded, but the sign was brighter and more eye-catching, and the interior had clearly been renovated recently.

 

“This place has always been delicious,” Rong said to Lu Jia, turning her head. “I’ve been coming here since I was a kid. My family loved it too. I wonder if Grandma Chen is still the owner.”

 

Lu Jia took the lead, stepping inside. “We’ll find out once we’re in.”

 

The young woman behind the counter had noticed them earlier. As they entered, her smile brightened. “Welcome!”

 

Sheng Shubai’s gaze lingered on the woman’s face, and her voice softened. “Hello. Is Grandma Chen still the owner of this restaurant?”

 

The woman’s smile grew even sweeter. “Grandma Chen is my mother. She’s teaching apprentices in the kitchen right now. May I ask who you are?”

 

Sheng Shubai waved her hand, stopping the woman from heading to the kitchen. “Just a former customer who used to eat here years ago. I haven’t been back to Z City in a long time, so I was just curious.”

 

Lu Jia settled at a window table and ordered several of the restaurant’s signature dishes.

 

Sheng Shubai gazed out the window, her voice tinged with nostalgia. “This place has been around for ages. From when I was a little girl until I finished high school, I’d come here regularly.”

 

“I used to see the cashier girl often back then. The last time I was here, she was still doing her homework at the counter. Now she’s all grown up.”

 

In the blink of an eye, she had gone from eighteen to thirty-two.

 

Through countless changes in the world, spring had given way to autumn.

 

Sheng Shubai glanced at Lu Jia sitting across from her. The girl looked young and innocent, about the same age she had been back then.

 

The difference was that Lu Jia held a burning passion for printmaking, while she…

 

Never mind.

 

Sheng Shubai lowered her head and took a sip of the freshly poured tea.

 

The cup felt only warm, but the tea burned her tongue, making her pause and set the cup down.

 

The woman seemed unusually talkative tonight, her mood shifting between highs and lows.

 

While waiting for their meal, Lu Jia quietly listened as Sheng Shubai recounted her past, from childhood to high school graduation, detailing the minutiae of her life in Z City.

 

It was clear Sheng Shubai held deep affection for the city. When she spoke of the unfamiliar changes she had witnessed tonight, her voice carried a hint of melancholy.

 

Occasionally, a story would linger too long, or a hidden truth would slip through her carefully constructed facade. Lu Jia pretended not to notice.

 

“I’m sorry, am I talking too much?”

 

When the dishes finally arrived, Sheng Shubai snapped back to reality, her voice apologetic. “Thank you for listening to me for so long.”

 

Lu Jia shook her head. “It’s no problem at all. I’m happy to listen. Miss Sheng can talk for as long as she likes.”

 

She wasn’t sure if it was her imagination, but when they had been discussing certain details earlier, Lu Jia had noticed a fleeting glint in Sheng Shubai’s eyes, like the hint of tears, as the woman reached for her teacup to hide her expression. Those particular details had all been related to the Sheng family.

 

Lu Jia had noticed the subtle shift but wisely refrained from offering unsolicited comfort. Knowing Sheng Shubai’s personality, she likely wouldn’t appreciate such gestures in this moment.

 

Sheng Shubai changed the subject, turning the conversation to the upcoming Print Exhibition.

 

“The opening ceremony will probably be dull, but the artists behind those few exceptional pieces should be attending.”

 

Sheng Shubai pulled out her phone, scrolled through photos, and pushed the screen toward Lu Jia. “I just confirmed they’re all in the same exhibition hall. If you’re interested, I’ll take you to see them sometime. We can even meet the artists.”

 

Earlier in the car, Lu Jia had kept the materials Rong Yi had given her in her bag, and Sheng Shubai had glanced through them.

 

Noticing Lu Jia lingering over certain pages, Sheng Shubai had sent a message to an elder family friend and received a reply just minutes ago.

 

As Lu Jia’s gaze fell on the screen, her hand paused mid-chopstick.

 

Through the warm, amber glow of the restaurant and the delicate white steam rising from the dishes, she spoke softly, “Miss Sheng.”

 

Sheng Shubai’s tone remained calm. “Hmm?”

 

“Why are you being so kind to me?” Lu Jia asked bluntly, unable to understand her behavior.

 

From Sheng Shubai’s recent offer to show her the private exhibition at her home to now, actively introducing her to a senior painter she admired, Lu Jia was baffled.

 

At best, they were just casual lovers with a good rapport.

 

Their contract clearly stipulated mutual benefit, with neither owing the other anything. Lu Jia saw no reason for Sheng Shubai to go out of her way to care for her.

 

Sheng Shubai’s eyes curved into a smile. “I simply find you agreeable.”

 

Agreeable.

 

Lu Jia wanted to press further, but meeting the woman’s ambiguous gaze, she swallowed her words.

 

She lowered her eyes and murmured, “Thank you.”

 

After finishing their meal, Sheng Shubai led Lu Jia toward the end of the street, showing no intention of hailing a taxi.

 

The front of the restaurant street was bustling, but the crowds thinned considerably toward the back.

 

Lu Jia followed closely, step by step, until they had traversed the entire brightly lit, bustling street. Suddenly, the vibrant colors gave way to a stark, uniform white.

 

They stood at a wide asphalt crosswalk, the light green.

 

Across the street, towering trees formed a dense canopy, blocking much of the moonlight and casting the stone railings beside them into deep shadow.

 

Lu Jia heard the faint sound of water even before reaching the railing, mingled with the roar of cars speeding past behind them.

 

She squeezed Sheng Shubai’s hand, which had instinctively tightened, and followed the woman silently along the tree-lined path.

 

Their pace was more of a leisurely stroll, even slower than a casual walk.

 

Occasionally, other pedestrians passed them from behind, mostly older residents out for an evening stroll.

 

Lu Jia walked on the outer side of the path.

 

As she passed Sheng Shubai’s slender, elegant profile, her gaze drifted toward the river beyond the railing.

 

The river surface stretched wide and vast.

 

Across the water, towering commercial buildings cast shimmering reflections that danced and swayed in the night breeze.

 

In the distance, a grand arched bridge spanned the river, its golden lights illuminating the bustling figures moving across it.

 

Lu Jia recognized it as one of Z City’s famous landmarks, the “must-see” spot Senior Sister had mentioned before her departure.

 

Assuming Sheng Shubai wanted to take photos, Lu Jia asked, “Miss Sheng, should we take a taxi there?”

 

The bridge appeared quite a distance away.

 

She glanced at Sheng Shubai’s ankle, hesitating to voice her concern.

 

The last time they slept together, Lu Jia had cradled Sheng Shubai’s ankle in her arm, only to discover a bandage on her heel.

 

At the time, Sheng Shubai had hooked her arm around Lu Jia’s and said it was nothing, just a new pair of shoes that had rubbed her heel raw. But later, she’d used the chafed spot as an excuse to demand another “repayment” from Lu Jia.

 

Today, it wasn’t that bad, but Lu Jia was still worried about whether the wound had fully healed.

 

Sheng Shubai kept her head turned, gazing quietly at the river surface. Her voice was soft. “We’re here.”

 

The railing broke, revealing stone steps leading down to the river.

 

The steps weren’t smooth; they were old stone slabs worn unevenly by rain, their surfaces rounded and pitted.

 

After about a dozen steps, the path opened onto a small platform surrounded by a railing.

 

There were no lights.

 

The only illumination came from behind and above them—a faint spill from the tall streetlights lining the sidewalk. The dim light made it hard to see clearly; the reflected glow from the river surface was actually brighter.

 

Lu Jia, who had mild night blindness, took Sheng Shubai’s hand and matched her pace.

 

“You’re really not afraid to follow me like this? What if I sell you off?”

 

The light was dim, and Sheng Shubai joked, “Don’t worry, I’m not worth much.”

 

Lu Jia recognized the deliberately light tone and smiled back. “Don’t worry, I’m not worth much either.”

 

Halfway down the steps, Lu Jia nearly slipped on a missing piece of stone. Sheng Shubai’s hand shot out to steady her, and they continued down.

 

The warm, firm grip inexplicably filled Lu Jia with a sense of security. She glanced sideways at Sheng Shubai’s legs, relieved to see no sign of discomfort as she walked.

 

The woman slowly refuted her words. “It’s not about looks. The sheer brilliance of the ideas that constantly spring from your mind makes you priceless.”

 

Lu Jia tapped her head and sighed dramatically. “One more tap like that, and I might lose all my inspiration.”

 

A soft chuckle came from beside her. Before she could continue, Sheng Shubai asked casually, “What, are you trying to cling to me now?”

 

Lu Jia nodded.

 

Having reached the platform, she no longer worried about falling and tilted her head to look at the woman. Her clear eyes shone brightly in the dim light.

 

Sheng Shubai glanced at her. “Wasn’t last night’s performance enough? Next time, we’ll add something different to help you find even more inspiration.”

 

Her voice, neither loud nor soft, was carried away by the wind.

 

This kind of conversation was hardly suited for such an open, outdoor setting.

 

Recalling the tangled restraints, Lu Jia consciously steered the conversation away from the topic, instead leaning against the railing beside Sheng Shubai to enjoy the breeze.

 

The height beneath their feet was nearly level with the river surface, and the evening wind was stronger than she’d anticipated, carrying a thin, cool mist that brushed against their faces. Her hair and the hem of her dress fluttered in the night air.

 

The view was indeed stunning.

 

The river stretched wide, and the distant cityscape glittered with vibrant night lights.

 

Lu Jia pulled out her phone, quickly adjusted the settings, and pressed the shutter button, capturing several shots in quick succession.

 

She opened her photo album.

 

Accustomed to organizing her photos into folders, she created a new album named “Z City.”

 

After selecting all the photos and initiating the transfer, she scrolled through the pop-up options. Her finger paused almost imperceptibly for half a second as her gaze landed on one particular album name:

 

Miss Sheng.

 

The contents were unremarkable: a few photos of Sheng Shubai taken during the opening ceremony, and occasional snapshots of the two of them together—either selfies she’d taken or individual portraits he’d asked her to take.

 

The album was set to use the first photo saved as its default cover.

 

The first photo, which served as the album cover, captured the moment Sheng Shubai, microphone in hand, bowed his head to turn a page during his speech at the ceremony. The stage lights cast a faint halo around his tall figure.

 

Lu Jia had glanced at this photo countless times while saving images, never finding anything amiss.

 

But now, with the person in the picture standing right beside her, she felt a sudden, inexplicable guilt.

 

She quickly glanced at Sheng Shubai, relieved to see his attention was elsewhere, and hastily scrolled to the end of the album.

 

The photoshoot had taken only a few minutes.

 

Throughout the session, Sheng Shubai kept his gaze lowered, watching the ripples in the water, reverting to his earlier silence.

 

Only when Lu Jia stopped moving and a few more moments passed did he finally speak, his voice soft and measured: “What do you think happens to people after they die?”

 

The question was abrupt and unexpected.

 

His voice was so quiet it barely carried over the sound of the water. It seemed directed at Lu Jia, yet it also sounded like he was talking to himself.

 

Like a feather drifting on the river breeze, so light it could be scattered with a single gust, almost impossible to grasp.

 

Combined with the enigmatic expression hidden in the shadows of his face, it left his meaning utterly indecipherable.

 

Lu Jia paused, considering for a few seconds, before deciding to answer honestly: “When I was little, they always said that people who passed away turned into stars. But I never believed that.”

 

She leaned against the cool stone railing, the touch slightly chilly. “When my elders passed away, they were buried near the pine trees at the edge of the Forest Farm. The following spring, several pinkish-white flowers bloomed there, very beautiful—flowers that had never grown there before.”

 

“I used to think that maybe when people die, they turn into flower seeds, comforting their living relatives.”

 

Her fingers clenched and relaxed.

 

Sheng Shubai lowered her gaze, offering no comment on Lu Jia’s words.

 

The river wind brushed their faces, stirring a few strands of hair.

 

Silence settled between them again. Lu Jia didn’t speak, simply keeping Sheng Shubai company as they quietly watched the night view.

 

It wasn’t until a sudden rustle of birds startled them both that Sheng Shubai finally spoke again after a long silence:

 

“In high school, my aunt and I came here several times. She said that if she ever died, she wanted a grand River Burial, just like those posts online.”

 

Her voice carried a slow, heavy bitterness.

 

“Then—”

 

Lu Jia seemed to realize something, her tone hesitant.

 

Sheng Shubai lowered her gaze and gave a self-deprecating smile.

 

Those memories she had tried to bury gradually surfaced in the night, forcing her to confront them.

 

The words caught in her throat.

 

After a long hesitation, she finally spoke: “It couldn’t be done. My family refused to consider that wish. In the end, I had to bury another of her belongings instead.”

 

Sheng Ling had always cherished her freedom. Sheng Shubai wondered if being confined to a grave would bore her too much.

 

So she secretly kept a carving knife, commissioned a small wooden box shaped like a coffin, and placed it inside before sinking it into the middle of the river.

 

It was her way of honoring Sheng Ling’s words.

 

“In a few days… it will be my aunt’s death anniversary.”

 

Sheng Shubai lowered her eyes. “Returning to this place brought back so many memories. That’s why I’ve been acting so strangely tonight. I’m sorry.”

 

This hadn’t been her original plan.

 

Tonight, she had invited Lu Jia out mainly to have someone accompany her as she strolled through the city she hadn’t seen in so long, to pass the time chatting casually, and then bring Lu Jia back to her apartment.

 

But after entering that shop, everything felt different from how she remembered it. The images in her memory were shattered and dissolved.

 

Sheng Shubai couldn’t help but be flooded with memories.

 

This was the first place Sheng Ling had ever taken her to eat. They had come here regularly for years, from elementary school through high school, the restaurant woven into countless memories of her aunt.

 

Despite the complete transformation of the surroundings, her longing for Sheng Ling only deepened.

 

Walking along the Jiang River felt like a natural progression.

 

She had never shared these feelings with anyone before, not even her own sister.

 

Perhaps it was Lu Jia’s quiet demeanor and lack of probing questions, or perhaps it was simply the comfortable companionship.

 

Or perhaps, Sheng Shubai wanted to confide in someone completely detached from this city, someone who had never been involved in her past and never would be in the future.

 

That way, even if she poured out her emotions, it wouldn’t burden the other person too much, she reasoned.

 

Her fingertips brushed against Lu Jia’s, followed by the warmth of her palm gently covering the back of Sheng Shubai’s hand, melting away the chill carried by the river wind.

 

The girl was only a few centimeters shorter than her. When they had compared finger lengths earlier, the difference had been negligible.

 

Now, Lu Jia’s hand perfectly enveloped hers, every inch soaked in familiar warmth.

 

“Miss Sheng,” Lu Jia said softly, her words still clumsy and ill-suited for comforting, yet her gaze remained clear and sincere as she awkwardly tried to reassure her.

 

“It’s okay. You can say anything you want, and stay here as long as you need.”

 

The girl paused for a few seconds, as if realizing her words were too brief and inadequate. She added, “I’ll stay with you.”

 

Sheng Shubai pressed her lips together, her wrist resting on the railing. She turned her hand over and gripped Lu Jia’s hand in return.

 

The temperature hadn’t cooled down yet.

 

Occasionally, a few mosquitoes buzzed around. Lu Jia, with her delicate skin, had always been a magnet for insects.

 

The mosquitoes by the Jiang River were particularly venomous. She rummaged through her bag and pulled out her travel-sized mosquito repellent. Originally bought in C City, she hadn’t expected it to come in handy here.

 

Sheng Shubai watched her quietly.

 

“Miss Sheng, would you like some? This one is unscented,” Lu Jia offered, explaining the scentless formula before handing it over.

 

Women’s perfumes always smelled so lovely; it would be a shame if the repellent’s scent masked them.

 

They stayed until very late.

 

The river flowed on, and the bustling crowds on the distant bridge gradually dispersed.

 

Z City couldn’t compare to C City. By midnight, the streets were nearly deserted. Apart from the colorful lights illuminating the skyscrapers in the commercial district, the entire city was enveloped in the silence of the night.

 

Sheng Shubai’s residence, purchased by Sheng Shujun, was located near the city center. Though she rarely stayed there, it was fully equipped with all the necessities. Knowing that Sheng Shubai returned around this time each year to visit the ancestral graves, Sheng Shujun had arranged for the place to be thoroughly cleaned in advance, even if her sister didn’t plan to stay overnight.

 

Lu Jia stayed in the guest room and naturally borrowed Sheng Shubai’s pajamas.

 

After finishing her evening routine past 2 AM, Lu Jia insisted on massaging Sheng Shubai’s stiff shoulders and neck. Seeing the woman’s mood had improved considerably, Lu Jia whispered a gentle “Good night” before turning to retire to her room.

 

She slept soundly through the night, waking up after 9 AM.

 

The house was empty.

 

Just as Lu Jia finished reading the note left on the table, she heard the click of the lock at the entrance.

 

“Good morning, Miss Sheng.”

 

Lu Jia greeted her, took the brown paper bag the woman offered, and glanced at the short boots on the carpet. A small ring of mud and grass clung to the edges of the heels, confirming the note’s mention of a trip to the cemetery.

 

“Breakfast is in the bag. Eat first. I’m going to shower, then we’ll head to the Old Mansion together.”

 

Sheng Shubai rubbed her temples and unbuttoned the top button of her black shirt.

 

Because of her visit to the cemetery, she had changed into a black shirt she rarely wore. Its slim fit accentuated her long, graceful figure.

 

“Why don’t you rest for a while first?” Lu Jia suggested, noticing the weariness in Sheng Shubai’s expression.

 

Sheng Shubai shook her head. “It’s alright. A shower will do the trick.”

 

She had slept barely three hours the previous night, waking at 6:30 AM to drive to the cemetery. After spending nearly two hours there, she had rushed back.

 

She had no appetite whatsoever.

 

Hesitating for a moment as they passed a breakfast shop, she pulled over and bought Lu Jia’s favorite items.

 

After showering, Sheng Shubai emerged from the bathroom to find the untouched soy milk and steamed dumplings still on the table.

 

“Miss Sheng, you haven’t eaten breakfast, have you?” Lu Jia asked, gently pressing her down into a chair. “You need to eat something. Skipping breakfast is terrible for your stomach.”

 

Her earnest tone and concern were identical to the way she used to coax Sheng Shubai to eat breakfast every morning. Sheng Shubai rubbed her temples, never imagining she would one day be repeatedly reminded by a girl ten years younger.

 

Lu Jia, however, considered this a matter of utmost importance.

 

Perhaps due to their shared lineage, both Guide Rong and Senior Sister suffered from stomach ailments, constantly reminding Lu Jia to maintain healthy eating habits.

 

Lu Jia had always maintained a regular lifestyle, except for occasional late nights when Sheng Shubai worked too long, causing her to wake up later. Otherwise, she always woke up on time.

 

During her undergraduate years, bursts of inspiration would keep her painting day and night. Now, as a graduate student, Lu Jia felt her age and energy couldn’t match her youthful vigor of eighteen or nineteen. She resolved to prioritize her health.

 

The moment she earnestly declared her intention to “take care of herself,” Sheng Shubai pinched her cheek.

 

“You’re barely in your twenties and already complaining about being old? What about me?”

 

Sheng Shubai rubbed Lu Jia’s cheek rather roughly. “You’re still so young. Don’t ever mention ‘old’ in front of me again.”

 

Lu Jia quickly agreed, finally freeing her tender cheek.

 

Seeing Sheng Shubai’s mood brighten, Lu Jia’s eyes curved into a smile.

 

She touched the spot where Sheng Shubai had pinched her. It didn’t hurt, and it carried a faint floral-fruity scent—likely from Sheng Shubai’s hand cream.

 

Around ten o’clock, they arrived at the Sheng Residence.

 

Despite its name, the Sheng Residence was no longer the family’s primary residence. The Sheng Family only gathered there once a year for reunions.

 

Naturally, except for Sheng Shubai.

 

Over two decades ago, a four-story exhibition hall was built next to the main building to house the Sheng Family’s art collection and their extensive printmaking collection. It was not typically open to the public.

 

The Sheng Residence was, in essence, this exhibition hall.

 

The hall occupied a vast area, its architectural design remarkably clever, with particularly dynamic lines along its exterior walls.

 

Lu Jia tilted her head to admire the building, then paused. “Miss Sheng, may I take a photo of this building?”

 

Sheng Shubai nodded. “Feel free to photograph anything you like. Don’t be so reserved.”

 

Though not open to the public, the hall was meticulously maintained by dedicated staff.

 

Noticing Lu Jia still gazing up and taking photos, Sheng Shubai made a phone call.

 

A few minutes later, the exhibition hall’s doors swung open from within, revealing an elegant woman in her fifties. Her exquisite qipao was embroidered with intricate patterns, and her glossy black hair was coiled into a bun secured with a hairpin.

 

“Aunt Xie, it’s me,” Sheng Shubai said with a slight nod. “Long time no see. How have you been?”

 

The woman, addressed as Aunt Xie, beamed with delight. “Second Miss, I’m so glad you’ve finally decided to return to the Old Mansion. Chairman Sheng has been mentioning you constantly—”

 

Sheng Shubai lowered her gaze, cutting her off. “Aunt Xie, I’ve only brought a friend here for a tour. I’d rather not hear any irrelevant remarks.”

 

Seeing her resolute attitude, Aunt Xie sighed and didn’t press further. “Then, would you like me to arrange for someone to guide your friends?”

 

“No need. Please have them all rest. I’ll show my friend around myself.”

 

Sheng Shubai gave brief instructions, then waited for Lu Jia to finish taking photos before leading her inside. As they walked, employees emerged one after another, each bowing respectfully. “Second Miss.”

 

Above the first-floor lobby stretched an openwork glass dome, flooding the space with light.

 

Peering through the open doorways of the exhibition halls, Lu Jia saw that the lights were already on, creating a balanced interplay of light and shadow. The halls were eerily empty, with no one else in sight.

 

“Second Miss?” Lu Jia whispered.

 

Sheng Shubai coughed lightly, pressing her right fist to her lips. Lu Jia’s repetition made her feel slightly awkward.

 

Rubbing her temples, she explained, “It’s an old habit. Everyone calls me that. I used to hate it when I was younger.”

 

“Understood, Second Miss Sheng,” Lu Jia replied.

 

Sheng Shubai shot her a quick glance, then took her hand and led her to the leftmost exhibition hall on the first floor.

 

“This room contains woodblock prints from our family’s earliest printmaking ancestors, some dating back over three hundred years,” she explained, pointing out each piece with evident familiarity.

 

Most of the original woodblocks were preserved and displayed alongside their printed proofs in glass cases, the paper tinged with the pale yellow of age.

 

Many of these works were familiar to Lu Jia from her textbooks.

 

Seeing the actual artifacts in person, however, was a completely different experience.

 

Videos and photographs could never capture the intricate details visible from various angles. The Sheng Family had preserved these pieces with meticulous care; even after a century, every knife mark on the blocks remained remarkably clear, save for a few irreparable signs of wear and decay.

 

Lu Jia wished she had two heads and four eyes to take it all in.

 

Sheng Shubai didn’t rush her.

 

Only when the girl reluctantly moved toward the next exhibition hall did Sheng Shubai follow, glancing back several times.

 

Sheng Shubai offered, “Why don’t we ask your mentor if you can come back for the later exhibitions after the opening ceremony? You can take your time to appreciate them properly.”

 

Lu Jia admitted she was tempted by the suggestion.

 

“But…” she hesitated for a moment, “wasn’t I specifically invited for the opening ceremony?”

 

Sheng Shubai shook her head. “It’s just for publicity, using the Sheng Family name. At my age, I’m not even scheduled to give a speech. Attending the opening ceremony is enough. Besides, the original woodblocks for the prints on display are all here.”

 

Seeing Lu Jia’s eyes light up, Sheng Shubai pointed to the second floor. “I’ll take you up there later.”

 

The collection wasn’t limited to woodblock prints; there were also a few lithographs. As they ascended to the second floor, the number of copperplate and silkscreen prints gradually increased.

 

“The second and third floors showcase works from recent generations,” Sheng Shubai explained, standing before a plaque near the staircase. “They’re no longer solely focused on woodblock prints but explore other directions as well.”

 

She gestured for Lu Jia to read the inscription. “This introduces the styles of the various exhibition halls. Take a look and decide which one you’d like to visit first.”

 

After a moment’s contemplation, Lu Jia pointed to a corner of the floor plan. “I’d like to go to this one.”

 

This hall primarily featured realistic woodblock prints, aligning perfectly with Lu Jia’s planned future artistic direction.

 

The exhibition hall was spacious, yet the lighting was dim. Each print was illuminated by a spotlight, casting stark shadows that mimicked the layered mountains and valleys depicted in the woodblock carvings.

 

Lu Jia was overwhelmed by the sheer variety and detail.

 

With Sheng Shubai’s permission, Lu Jia kept her phone raised almost continuously, taking photos before admiring each piece. She lingered before some prints for nearly ten minutes.

 

Sheng Shubai, noticing Lu Jia’s absorption, had long since settled into a nearby plush sofa to rest. Having seen these works countless times since childhood, she had no interest in revisiting them. Instead, her gaze remained fixed on Lu Jia.

 

Returning to the Sheng Residence this time was purely coincidental.

 

The family members had scattered across the country, none remaining in Z City, so there was no need to worry about running into them. If it weren’t for Lu Jia’s likely interest, she probably wouldn’t have set foot here again for another decade.

 

Since Lu Jia was enjoying herself so much, she decided to show her around and broaden her horizons. Consider it an extra reward for the girl’s “hard work” these past few days.

 

Sheng Shubai rested her chin in her hand, waiting for Lu Jia to finish viewing most of the exhibits. By then, Lu Jia’s entire playlist had run its course.

 

Lu Jia stood up and began walking toward the exit.

 

“The painting you kept returning to, and the several others you asked if you could record videos of, were all my aunt’s works,” Sheng Shubai said casually as they approached the exit.

 

None of Sheng Ling’s works were labeled with her name. This was in accordance with her will, and the family had honored her wishes.

 

With a tone as casual as if she were mentioning the weather, Sheng Shubai turned to Lu Jia. “Her other works are stored on the fourth floor. After we finish here, we can go up and take a look.”

 

Unlike the exhibition halls on the first three floors, the fourth floor was designed as a series of small display rooms. Each room had a nameplate beside it, presumably to showcase individual artists’ works.

 

As Lu Jia walked down the corridor, she recognized many familiar names.

 

She stopped beside Sheng Shubai.

 

A woman stood quietly before a door, leaning against the white-patterned carved railing behind her. Lu Jia wondered how long she had been waiting.

 

The two characters beside the door read: Sheng Ling.

 

That must be her aunt’s name, Lu Jia thought.

 

The prints she had seen earlier, from their conception to their execution, were all breathtakingly masterful. Yet none of them were attributed to an artist.

 

Lu Jia opened her browser and tried reverse image search, but found nothing.

 

A printmaker of such caliber, even if they had died young, couldn’t possibly remain unknown, especially as a member of the Sheng Family. The few works she had seen alone should have secured their legacy.

 

It was almost as if… someone had deliberately erased all traces of her existence.

 

“Wait a moment,” Sheng Shubai said calmly. “Aunt Xie will bring the key down shortly.”

 

“Is it inconvenient to open? Would it be inappropriate for me to come in?” Lu Jia asked.

 

Of all the rooms she had passed, this was the only one with two locks. One was already unlocked, the key still in the lock, while the other remained fastened.

 

“No,” Sheng Shubai replied. “She would be pleased to know that people still appreciate her work.”

 

“The elders said they didn’t want to be reminded of her, yet they couldn’t resist looking at her works over and over. That’s why they added an extra lock.”

 

She lowered her gaze, her smile tinged with self-mockery. “Our family has always been good at burying our heads in the sand.”

 

Longing can’t be suppressed by simply avoiding looking or thinking.

 

Neither can escape.

 

After a few more minutes, Sheng Shubai obtained the key, thanked the staff, and turned to unlock the exhibition hall door.

 

Lu Jia’s eyes immediately fell on a painting to the left.

 

It was the reference photo her undergraduate mentor had sent her when she was struggling with her graduation project—the very one she had seen when she first met Sheng Shubai. The original was right here.

 

Though Sheng Shubai hadn’t been here in years, she knew the exact location of every painting by heart.

 

When the exhibition hall was first built, and they were planning the layout of each artist’s gallery, she and Sheng Shujun were still young, with few printmaking works worthy of display.

 

So they helped Sheng Ling plan her gallery, brainstorming together how to arrange each painting by style and year, placing them in their perfect spots.

 

As they grew older, the galleries were reorganized every two years, and Sheng Ling would ask for their suggestions.

 

Only once did Sheng Ling want to include her lover’s works in her gallery.

 

The family disapproved, but Sheng Shubai voted in favor, strongly supporting her aunt’s decision.

 

At the time, Sheng Shubai was in her adolescence, around sixteen or seventeen, the age when one is most idealistic about love.

 

She had just begun to feel a vague attraction to someone of the same s3x. Her beloved Aunt, whom she had always admired and been close to, was in a long-term relationship with a woman—a woman who happened to be her family’s esteemed student.

 

She had believed she was witnessing a match made in heaven, a couple whose love she once envied deeply.

 

“Later…” Her voice dimmed.

 

Lu Jia’s gaze followed hers to the innermost corner, where the most recent piece, created many years ago, hung.

 

It was a starkly different work from the others.

 

Rough, vertical strokes of crimson ink formed crude lines, as if the woodblock had never been polished after carving. The chaotic lines sprawled across the paper, vaguely outlining an indiscernible figure. Even the woodblock itself showed visible cracks.

 

Lu Jia knew well that an artist’s work often reveals their state of mind.

 

The words she expected fell into her ears.

 

“This was Aunt’s last work before she died,” Sheng Shubai said, trying to keep her voice steady. “A month after finishing it, she slit her wrists in her bedroom with the carving knife Song Lan had given her.”

 

Song Lan.

 

Lu Jia froze.

 

She was equally familiar with this name.

 

During the printmaking exhibition over the summer, she had pointed out the flaws in front of Sheng Shubai in the very piece that had catapulted Song Lan to fame years ago.

 

Song Lan had achieved early renown and later studied under renowned international masters. By now, she was considered a highly respected senior figure in the field.

 

In recent years, printmaking had experienced a resurgence in China, with many Chinese artists returning from abroad. Yet Song Lan remained conspicuously absent.

 

As the woman spoke, long-buried truths gradually surfaced.

 

A young woman with no connections had meticulously orchestrated her first meeting and romance with Sheng Ling. Perhaps there was a kernel of genuine affection at the start, but it was largely driven by her ambition to leverage the Sheng Family’s prestige for rapid advancement.

 

Even after becoming the favored student of the Sheng Family’s elders, Song Lan remained unsatisfied. The level of acclaim she craved was far beyond what she had achieved.

 

As days turned into weeks, her anxiety grew, and her inspiration gradually withered.

 

Meanwhile, her lover, raised in an environment steeped in artistic tradition, effortlessly produced printmaking masterpieces that drew universal admiration.

 

Driven by envy, Song Lan hatched a sinister plan.

 

That year, the first international competition to encourage young printmakers was launched, generating tremendous excitement.

 

Many young students in China were eager to participate in the international competition. Sheng Ling and Song Lan both registered and made it to the finals.

 

For the final submission, Sheng Ling submitted her original woodcut.

 

Unexpectedly, a fire broke out during the first transport, completely destroying the engraved plate. With the deadline looming, she rushed to create a replacement.

 

Just as she was about to submit the revised version, her grandfather’s birthday celebration required her presence. Song Lan volunteered to fly to Country A and personally submit the work on her behalf.

 

“Leave it to me. Don’t you trust me?” Song Lan said with a radiant smile as she hugged Sheng Ling at the airport. “A-Ling’s work is so good, I’ll definitely bring back the gold medal for us.”

 

Sheng Ling believed her.

 

Instead, she received only a blocked number and news reports of Song Lan winning the gold medal and bringing glory to the nation, plastered across every media outlet.

 

Song Lan sent a letter admitting that their initial encounter had been meticulously planned by her.

 

The letter was filled with lofty rhetoric, thanking Sheng Ling and the Sheng Family for their years of guidance and support, which had enabled her to create the gold medal-winning piece.

 

However, having now found a more suitable mentor, she would be residing abroad permanently. With the vast ocean separating them, there was no need for them to meet again.

 

Lu Jia frowned deeply. “Wasn’t this academic misconduct exposed?”

 

Sheng Shubai shook her head. “Before leaving, Song Lan claimed she needed ample proof for her own works and took nearly all the evidence proving Aunt’s original creations.”

 

“Aunt trusted her completely, giving Song Lan the opportunity to destroy the remaining evidence and records.”

 

Her gaze fell on the glaringly bright painting. Sheng Shubai closed her eyes briefly. “I was the first to find Aunt after she cut her wrists.”

 

She had witnessed the bl00d pooling and winding across the tiles, nearly filling her entire field of vision. She had rushed to Sheng Ling’s side, but her body was already icy cold, as if drained of every last drop of bl00d, devoid of her usual warmth.

 

Sheng Ling’s eyes were tightly shut, the knife wounds on her wrists so deep they exposed bone.

 

The carving knife lay on the tiles, half its blade stained crimson, the sight so blinding it nearly made Sheng Shubai lose her balance.

 

The letter Song Lan had sent back and Sheng Ling’s suicide note lay side by side.

 

Sheng Shubai forced herself to read them, feeling nauseated and disgusted.

 

Disgusted at her own blindness, mirroring Sheng Ling’s, and at the despicable thief and indirect murderer.

 

She refused to touch printmaking again.

 

But fate intervened: the college application period had just ended.

 

Her elders vehemently rejected her plan to retake the entrance exam, insisting she study printmaking and inherit the family tradition alongside Sheng Shujun.

 

Sheng Shubai was powerless to resist.

 

It wasn’t until her junior year of college, when Sheng Shujun took over most of the family’s businesses, seized control of decision-making, and had a long talk with Sheng Shubai, that she finally gained the confidence to defy her elders. She then switched to watercolor painting, a medium they found less objectionable.

 

More than a decade had passed in the blink of an eye.

 

Years of such experiences no longer stirred much emotion in her heart.

 

When Lu Jia’s soft embrace enveloped her, Sheng Shubai didn’t pull away. She rested her chin on Lu Jia’s shoulder, her nose catching the faint, woody fragrance emanating from Lu Jia’s skin.

 

“Thank you,” she murmured.

 

Her composure returned quickly. Sheng Shubai released Lu Jia and leaned against her, saying, “My feet hurt from standing so long.”

 

Lu Jia instinctively glanced down at her shoes. “Miss Sheng, did your feet get blisters again?”

 

“No.”

 

Sheng Shubai straightened up. “Let’s take our time looking around. I’ll keep you company.”

 

It was already lunchtime.

 

Perhaps because they had eaten a late breakfast, neither of them felt particularly hungry.

 

They stayed in Sheng Ling’s exhibition hall until after one o’clock before Sheng Shubai had lunch delivered. They ate a simple meal in the lounge on the first floor.

 

The earlier conversation still echoed in Lu Jia’s ears, leaving her with little appetite.

 

Sheng Shubai’s demeanor had returned to normal, her every gesture and movement indistinguishable from her usual self.

 

Lu Jia glanced at her several times, a strange bitterness rising in her heart.

 

How long must one rationalize their grief to speak of the loss of a loved one with such detached composure?

 

Sheng Shubai even seemed afraid of dragging Lu Jia into her own negative emotions, deliberately lightening the mood several times.

 

Lu Jia recalled the woman’s reaction when she had cut herself with the carving knife, her inexplicable insistence that Lu Jia hide her password and trust no one easily.

 

Lu Jia’s straightforward and candid nature didn’t make her a fool.

 

The hug in the exhibition hall had been an unthinking, instinctive reaction.

 

At that moment, Sheng Shubai’s tall, solitary figure stood in the center of the room, radiating an unusual aura of melancholy.

 

Lu Jia had simply felt an overwhelming urge to embrace her.

 

“Eating so little?”

 

Sheng Shubai placed a piece of pork rib into Lu Jia’s bowl.

 

Aunt Xie had arranged for lunch to be prepared, specifically asking about Lu Jia’s preferences and tailoring the meal to their tastes.

 

Lu Jia held her chopsticks. “I was just a bit distracted.”

 

“Still pondering those artworks?”

 

Sheng Shubai glanced at the time. “No rush. We can take our time this afternoon. Let’s focus on eating first.”

 

Lu Jia shook her head. “I was thinking about…”

 

The woman’s chopsticks paused as she fixed Lu Jia with a gaze that held a subtle hint of scrutiny.

 

“…what you said.”

 

Lu Jia met her gaze, hastily adding the second half of her sentence.

 

It wasn’t entirely untrue. She was thinking about Sheng Shubai, and she was thinking about what she had said.

 

With a few quick words to smooth over the conversation, Lu Jia avoided her gaze.

 

She lowered her head, focusing intently on the pork rib Sheng Shubai had placed in her bowl. Stewed until tender and flavorful, the meat easily fell off the bone.

 

Sheng Shubai, knowing Lu Jia’s honest nature, didn’t dwell on it. “Don’t take it too seriously,” she said. “Just think of it as hearing a story. After all, it’s been so long, and there’s… nothing we can do about it now.”

 

Of course, resentment lingered. None of the Sheng Family members wanted to see that sanctimonious villain live a life of ease. But their reach couldn’t extend overseas.

 

Years ago, Sheng Ling had tried to find evidence, but the man had planned everything meticulously, leaving no trace of his schemes.

 

In her suicide note, Sheng Ling urged her daughters not to dwell on this matter any further. Her own spirit had completely collapsed, and she could no longer endure.

 

She had misjudged people, and there was no one else to blame.

 

Sheng Shubai lowered her gaze.

 

Years ago, she had wanted to confront Song Lan directly overseas, but Sheng Shujun had seized her passport and forcibly prevented her from leaving the country.

 

After Sheng Ling’s burial, the torrential rain at her graveside extinguished her fiery resolve, leaving only a sense of helplessness.

 

That afternoon, they explored most of the remaining exhibits. A few pieces had been loaned out, while others were stored in the basement for special preservation and unavailable for viewing that day.

 

Lu Jia meticulously noted down in her phone’s memo app which artworks she wanted to study in detail over the next few days, along with their exact locations in the exhibition halls.

 

At six o’clock in the evening, Sheng Shubai pulled Lu Jia away, ready to leave.

 

It wasn’t that she didn’t want Lu Jia to stay longer.

 

Earlier that afternoon, Rong Yi had unexpectedly added her as a friend and immediately asked when she planned to take Lu Jia home.

 

The reason given was perfectly plausible: a small gathering was scheduled for tonight in the hotel’s banquet hall, attended by many printmaking students from various universities. Rong Yi suggested Lu Jia attend to potentially make friends with peers.

 

If Sheng Shubai wanted to network, she could casually invite anyone, and it would be far more worthwhile than any gathering Lu Jia might attend.

 

After all, she herself was the network.

 

But since this was about making friends her own age, Sheng Shubai couldn’t bring herself to reject Rong Yi’s kind offer on Lu Jia’s behalf.

 

She knew Lu Jia usually buried herself in printmaking, with only a few Senior Sisters and classmates she could talk to, and herself.

 

As they descended the escalator from the third floor, Lu Jia remembered her bag was in the lounge. Sheng Shubai accompanied her to retrieve it.

 

Leaning against the wall while Lu Jia got her bag, Sheng Shubai straightened Lu Jia’s collar and couldn’t resist ruffling her hair.

 

Just as they were about to turn away, hand in hand, they heard footsteps approaching from behind.

 

“Xiao Bai, long time no see.”

 

The newcomer was tall and slender, her heels clicking crisply against the tiled floor.

 

Sheng Shujun spoke warmly, her gaze settling on her younger sister, whom she hadn’t seen in ages. “Aunt Xie told me you were back. I wanted to come see you.”

 

Five years older than Sheng Shubai, Sheng Shujun exuded an air of calm authority, her every gesture radiating the poise of someone accustomed to command.

 

Though the sisters shared similar features, their styles were worlds apart.

 

“Is this your—girlfriend?” Sheng Shujun asked gently, noticing their intertwined fingers. “I’m sorry I didn’t bring a gift. I rushed back this time.”