After a One-Night Stand with a Seductive Bad Woman - Chapter 27

Sheng Shubai stood beside Lu Jia, gazing at the painting she had pointed to.

 

It was a painting from her fifteenth birthday.

 

Back then, she and a few childhood friends had camped on the tallest mountain in a neighboring city. The vast nightscape had inspired her to paint it upon her return.

 

Normally, she would have glossed over the memory in a few words, but seeing Lu Jia’s genuine interest, Sheng Shubai elaborated. Still, after so many years, even though the memories hadn’t faded entirely, they had grown hazy.

 

Fortunately, this brief, lighthearted recollection had diverted her from her earlier mood, which now seemed to have dissipated.

 

Sheng Shubai couldn’t resist ruffling the younger woman’s hair.

 

Perhaps it was true that one shouldn’t keep such heavy emotions bottled up.

 

With Lu Jia by her side these past few days, Sheng Shubai’s darker moods had surfaced, but only fleetingly.

 

In previous years, during the days leading up to the anniversary of her sister’s death, she would always seek out a close friend to drink with, inevitably recounting the same old stories.

 

Sheng Shubai didn’t even bother changing the insults she hurled at Song Lan. Ji Jinnian never tired of hearing the same stories year after year; he would simply sit quietly and drink with her, bottle after bottle.

 

Her alcohol tolerance couldn’t match her friend’s legendary capacity—he could drink a hundred cups without getting drunk. Inevitably, she would end up being carried to the guest room to sleep it off.

 

The next morning, Lu Jia woke up with a splitting headache, her mind still foggy.

 

Perhaps because Lu Jia Pei was by her side this year, she had no desire to drink.

 

“I suddenly really want to know the Sheng Shujun from back then,” Lu Jia said.

 

Lu Jia Pei leaned over the engraved plate for a long time, her fingertips twitching slightly. She unconsciously reached out to touch it, then quickly withdrew her hand.

 

The starry sky printed in the ink draft was represented on the plate by countless fine lines etched by the engraver’s blade.

 

Arranged with deliberate sparseness, the lines seemed to follow the positions of constellations in the vast Milky Way.

 

It revealed an incredibly meticulous mind and a broad, expansive artistic vision.

 

Having lived in the Forest Farm for over a decade, Lu Jia had spent summer nights with her elders, learning to recognize the constellations. They felt deeply familiar to her.

 

Sheng Shubai chuckled softly, as if hearing something amusing. “You want to know the me from back then?”

 

Lu Jia’s voice was soft. “Mm.”

 

She straightened up and glanced around at the surrounding artworks.

 

Though the style differed from her own, surprisingly, every piece resonated with her preferences.

 

Lu Jia had seen many of Sheng Shubai’s watercolor paintings, all characterized by bright, cheerful hues and rarely any somber or gloomy atmospheres.

 

At the time, she had simply found them beautiful. But now, encountering a medium she understood professionally, she could truly appreciate the depth of the artist’s vision.

 

Now that Sheng Shubai refused to touch printmaking again, Lu Jia couldn’t help but wish she could have known her back then, to witness firsthand how she sketched her drafts and held the carving knife.

 

The woman sized her up and down, her lips curving into an even wider smile.

 

“Little Sister Lu,” she said.

 

Sheng Shubai playfully pinched Lu Jia’s cheek. When she noticed the girl’s ears turning inexplicably red and her gaze shifting away, she found it utterly amusing.

 

Deliberately teasing her, she asked casually, “When I was fifteen, could I even read yet?”

 

“Probably,” Lu Jia replied. “I learned to read very early.”

 

After a moment’s thought, she added, “My family says I was drawing and reading by age three.”

 

Sheng Shubai’s eyes crinkled with amusement. “So talented?”

 

She imagined herself at fifteen, encountering a little radish sprout who barely reached her waist, wearing the same earnest expression Lu Jia wore now. She wondered if she would have laughed so hard she doubled over.

 

Curiosity piqued, she asked, “Lu Jia, what were you like as a child? Were you always like this?”

 

Seeing Lu Jia hesitate, Sheng Shubai’s interest grew. She pressed for an answer.

 

“…More or less,” Lu Jia replied. “Would Miss Sheng like to see?”

 

Normally, Lu Jia wouldn’t hesitate to show her childhood photos to anyone she knew well. After all, her current appearance spoke for itself; whether she was pretty or not as a child was long past.

 

But she suddenly remembered how her friends used to tease her for always having the serious, scholarly look of a little old man, as if an adult had been transported into a child’s body, creating an inexplicable sense of incongruity.

 

Lu Jia wondered what Sheng Shubai would think after seeing them.

 

Seeing the woman nod eagerly, her eyes shining with anticipation, Lu Jia lowered her head and retrieved her phone. “They’re in my photo album.”

 

Sheng Shubai didn’t stand on ceremony. After Lu Jia unlocked the phone and navigated to the album, she took it. “Can I look through this album freely?”

 

Lu Jia mumbled, “Yes.”

 

The photos were indeed adorable, exactly as Sheng Shubai had imagined.

 

She had barely flipped to the first page when she couldn’t help but chuckle, holding the phone up beside Lu Jia’s face.

 

“Hey, Lu Jia, don’t move.”

 

She opened the camera app on her own phone, smiling brightly as she gestured to Lu Jia. “Make a V-sign with your fingers and hold it at chest level. Perfect. Now, don’t smile.”

 

Lu Jia fell silent, obediently letting Sheng Shubai pose her.

 

After all, the excuse was: “Let’s recreate some old photos and make a comparison collage as a memento.”

 

Satisfied, Sheng Shubai retrieved her phone and lowered her head again, continuing to scroll through the photo album.

 

Her earlier distraction had dissipated slightly. Lu Jia glanced at the woman and, after a moment’s hesitation, said, “Miss Sheng.”

 

Sheng Shubai didn’t look up, her eyes fixed on the screen. “What is it?”

 

“Since we’re making a memento, shouldn’t you send me a copy?” Lu Jia reminded her.

 

”

 

The photo album was organized chronologically, which made it particularly interesting.

 

The earliest photos showed Xiao Sheng as a tender sapling, with a few candid shots capturing her radiant smiles—so endearing they made one want to pinch her cheeks.

 

A little older, around eight or nine years old, she was still smiling brightly.

 

As they scrolled further to her middle school years, the number of photos dwindled sharply.

 

Sheng Shubai scanned the graduation photo, her eyes landing on a girl in a school uniform standing on the left side of the second row. Her eyes crinkled with amusement.

 

Judging by the photo’s setting, the sun had been particularly harsh during the graduation shoot. Most students were squinting unconsciously, their eyes dazzled by the glare.

 

Lu Jia stood quietly, neither smiling nor showing any other expression. She simply lowered her gaze to the ground, naturally avoiding the sunlight.

 

Sheng Shubai gently nudged Lu Jia’s arm. “Are you just naturally not a smiley person?”

 

Having known Lu Jia for so long, Sheng Shubai had noticed that she only smiled politely at strangers and occasionally flashed a smile when they were alone together. Otherwise, her lips remained a straight line.

 

Lu Jia thought for a moment. “No, I do smile.”

 

When Sheng Shubai flipped back to photos from when Lu Jia was seven or eight years old, she averted her eyes. “I had missing teeth back then. My smile didn’t look very nice.”

 

Sheng Shubai stepped closer and gently pressed Lu Jia’s lips upward into a smile. “You’re so beautiful now. You should smile more often.”

 

The touch was light, and Sheng Shubai was very close.

 

The fading evening light cast a soft halo around them from behind.

 

Lu Jia stiffened slightly, feeling awkward.

 

When Sheng Shubai withdrew her hand, Lu Jia lowered her gaze and murmured, “Okay.”

 

After finishing looking through the photos, Sheng Shubai handed the phone back. “I used to smile a lot when I was little.”

 

She glanced at Lu Jia again. “Sorry, I suddenly realized that my memories of childhood are all from when I was sixteen or seventeen.”

 

She tilted her chin, gesturing for Lu Jia to look at the wooden photo frame lying face-down on a nearby shelf.

 

“There, that’s it.”

 

Seeing Lu Jia hesitate, Sheng Shubai reached over and took the frame down, handing it to her.

 

Lu Jia lowered her gaze to examine it closely.

 

The photo showed three people: a young Sheng Shubai, Sheng Shujun, and… a young woman with an exceptionally gentle aura whom Lu Jia had never met before.

 

She already knew who this must be.

 

“The one on the right is my aunt,” Sheng Shubai said, her voice even as she looked at Sheng Ling’s image in the frame.

 

Yesterday at the cemetery, Lu Jia had seen Sheng Ling’s portrait framed in a black-and-white photo.

 

This photo was taken when Sheng Shubai was seventeen, right here in this exhibition hall.

 

It was during one of the biennial rearrangements of the hall. Sheng Shujun and Sheng Ling had both returned home for the occasion, and Sheng Shubai had insisted on taking a group photo with them.

 

“Are everyone in your family this beautiful?”

 

Lu Jia carefully considered her words, speaking earnestly, “When I first met President Sheng yesterday, I immediately thought her appearance would be perfect for a portrait.”

 

She lowered her gaze to the photo frame in her hands, oblivious to the woman’s narrowed eyes beside her, and continued, “Her demeanor complements the calm of the night. I actually had a rough sketch in mind last night, but I was afraid she might object.”

 

“What, one muse isn’t enough?” Sheng Shubai glanced at her sideways.

 

“That’s not what I meant,” Lu Jia explained earnestly. “It’s just that whenever I see someone who would make a good subject, I store fragments of their image in my memory as reference material.”

 

“And me? Am I just reference material too?”

 

The calm voice carried a weight Lu Jia couldn’t quite decipher.

 

She set down the photo frame and turned to face the woman beside her. “You’re not just reference material.”

 

Sheng Shubai met her gaze steadily, her thin lips parting slightly as she spoke with a hint of calculation, “Then what am I?”

 

Lu Jia’s eyes curved into a smile, her tone matter-of-fact. “Aren’t we partners?”

 

Sheng Shubai’s gaze flickered for a moment, then she paused for a few seconds before letting out a soft, almost imperceptible laugh.

 

“Mm, you’re right.”

 

After spending much of the day at the exhibition halls, they arrived at the Sheng Family Mansion late in the evening.

 

Lu Jia didn’t plan on exploring much, intending only to focus on Sheng Shubai’s printmaking works.

 

By nine o’clock, the night had deepened.

 

As her mind filled with images of various prints and she prepared to return to their accommodations with the woman, she once again encountered Sheng Shujun in the main hall.

 

Lu Jia turned to look at the woman beside her, but found her expression calm, as if she had anticipated this encounter.

 

“Let’s go,” Sheng Shubai said, taking Lu Jia’s hand.

 

Under her sister’s meaningful gaze, Sheng Shubai didn’t release Lu Jia’s hand. Instead, she leaned in and whispered to Lu Jia, “I need to talk to my sister about something.”

 

In the villa’s living room:

 

“I spoke with Professor Rong today,” Sheng Shujun said, cutting straight to the point, her hands clasped in her lap. “I took some time during the day to discuss Shen Zhiwei with her.”

 

Hearing her mentor’s name mentioned, Lu Jia immediately straightened up.

 

The next moment, Sheng Shubai pushed a cup of tea toward her, gently touching the back of her hand to reassure her.

 

“She agreed to help us keep an eye on things,” Sheng Shujun continued. “She didn’t ask for any conditions, and she even refused the offered compensation.”

 

She had heard rumors about the relationship between her younger sister and this colleague.

 

After all, this concerned Sheng Ling, so she had come today with the utmost sincerity. She hadn’t expected the other woman to initially refuse with a frown, only to agree readily after she vaguely alluded to the events of years past.

 

Sheng Shubai chuckled softly. “Really? I thought she’d ask me to stay away from Lu Jia.”

 

Confused by their cryptic conversation, Lu Jia struggled to follow along.

 

When she realized they were about to discuss something private, Lu Jia instinctively tried to excuse herself, but Sheng Shujun gently stopped her, saying the matter concerned her as well.

 

She glanced at Sheng Shubai, who shook her head slightly, indicating she didn’t understand either.

 

“Xiao Lu,” Sheng Shujun said, “we need your help. Please keep an eye on Shen Zhiwei’s movements.”

 

Before Lu Jia could react, Sheng Shubai interjected, “Why involve Lu Jia in this?”

 

Didn’t she say last night that this child couldn’t handle such a task?

 

Sheng Shujun’s eyebrow arched slightly.

 

She paused, her gaze drifting toward the young woman across from them, before continuing calmly, “Xiao Bai, guess why Song Lan’s student returned to China this time.”

 

Sheng Shubai’s brow furrowed sharply.

 

She knew her sister well; Sheng Shujun never spoke without purpose.

 

Following Sheng Shujun’s gaze, her own contemplative gaze settled on Lu Jia’s profile.

 

The girl’s features were youthful and delicate, her eyes exceptionally clear as she turned to look back, a hint of confusion in her expression. “Miss Sheng?”

 

Sheng Shubai lowered her voice, gently covering Lu Jia’s hand with her own. “Mm.”

 

Shen Zhiwei’s sudden return to China had been triggered by Song Lan’s encounter with Lu Jia’s undergraduate mentor at an international exhibition.

 

Sheng Shujun pushed a folder across the table, containing all the information their secretary had compiled and sent.

 

Shen Zhiwei had come for Lu Jia.

 

Or rather, it was Lu Jia’s undergraduate graduation project—which had referenced Sheng Ling’s work—that had caught Song Lan’s eye.

 

A young woman whose style strikingly resembled Sheng Ling’s from years ago. What motives lay behind Song Lan’s renewed interest remained a mystery.

 

In recent years, whether due to a guilty conscience or simply the exhaustion of her talent, Song Lan had rarely produced works that matched the quality of her Golden Award-winning period.

 

Her reputation in the printmaking world now rested solely on her early fame and the prestige of her mentor, inflated by hype into that of a legendary figure.

 

Things began to change in the year 2018.

 

Under the guise of “breaking out of her comfort zone,” Song Lan suddenly started exhibiting works that were radically different from her usual style at regular intervals.

 

Changing artistic styles might have been understandable.

 

But for a person’s carving technique to undergo such a complete transformation was truly extraordinary.

 

Sheng Shujun hadn’t been entirely unproductive in recent years. She had vaguely suspected that Song Lan was “borrowing” inspiration from her students’ work.

 

It wasn’t until she saw the promotional photos for Song Lan’s solo exhibition at the end of the year, and after scrutinizing the exhibited woodcuts for a long time, that she became almost certain this particular piece hadn’t been carved by Song Lan herself.

 

Unfortunately, someone else at the exhibition had also raised the same question.

 

For the subsequent touring exhibitions in other cities, the original print was “temporarily loaned out.” When it reappeared six months later, the carving marks had been altered to match Song Lan’s technique.

 

After that, Sheng Shujun meticulously examined every newly exhibited woodcut, but she never found the same flaw again.

 

Just as she was beginning to feel disappointed, one of her subordinates brought her an unexpected piece of news:

 

Song Lan had many students. Over the years, one or two would occasionally disappear, with the official explanation being that they had either dropped out to pursue other careers or fallen ill. Shortly after each disappearance, Song Lan would release a new masterpiece.

 

Sheng Shujun instinctively felt something was amiss, but the time frame was too short to investigate thoroughly.

 

“Xiao Lu, we need your cooperation,” Sheng Shujun said earnestly. “Song Lan has recognized your talent and artistic style. She sent Shen Zhiwei back to gauge your interest in developing your career abroad and to recruit you early.”

 

Lu Jia didn’t hesitate, her expression serious. “What do you need me to do?”

 

Sheng Shubai turned to look at her, his fingertips pressing down slightly on the back of her hand, his grip tightening unconsciously.

 

Sheng Shujun’s expression softened. “Don’t worry.”

 

Her words were meant to reassure both Lu Jia and Sheng Shubai. She glanced at her brother, her tone gentle and comforting.

 

“You won’t be in any danger. If Shen Zhiwei approaches you and asks about your interest in working abroad, give vague answers at first. Gradually show signs of being tempted, but don’t rush it—progress slowly and steadily.”

 

Shen Zhiwei was Song Lan’s most valued student in recent years, handling many tasks on her behalf with meticulous precision.

 

If they could persuade Shen Zhiwei to stay in the country longer and Song Lan reassigned other students to handle her duties, they might uncover some flaws in the system.

 

Lu Jia, who had never lied before, sat up even straighter, her expression a mix of awkwardness and uncertainty. “I… I don’t think I’m very good at this.”

 

She worried she would mess it up.

 

Sheng Shujun chuckled. “It doesn’t matter if you’re not good at it. You can learn from Xiao Bai. He’s been able to sweet-talk people since he was a child.”

 

Sheng Shubai protested, “Sheng Shujun, stop smearing my reputation!”

 

She glared at her sister before turning to Lu Jia to explain, “You don’t need to be too persuasive. If she mentions the Mentor or anything about overseas matters, hesitate for a moment and say you need to think about it. After she brings it up a few times, I’ll teach you a new response.”

 

The truth about Sheng Ling remained a closely guarded secret within the Sheng Family.

 

Even after news of Lu Jia’s close relationship with the Second Young Miss of the Sheng Family reached Song Lan, she wouldn’t easily give up on Lu Jia, still unaware that Lu Jia had learned about the past.

 

With the vast distance between them, Sheng Shujun would also arrange her own countermeasures.

 

Since Song Lan was so interested in students with similar qualities to Sheng Ling, Sheng Shujun would send a few suitable candidates to her side.

 

Ostensibly, these students would study under Song Lan, but secretly they would try to locate the missing students.

 

Listening to their back-and-forth discussion, Lu Jia grasped the general idea and remained quietly silent, knowing the remaining matters didn’t require her attention.

 

After taking a few sips of tea, Lu Jia noticed Sheng Shubai rubbing his temples. He said it was getting late and suggested she go wash up.

 

Lu Jia obediently agreed.

 

The maid had already taken her suitcase to the guest room on the second floor. Sheng Shubai mentioned they would be staying there for the night.

 

Glancing at the closed door of the guest room, Sheng Shujun lowered her voice slightly. “Xiao Bai, if we can’t find suitable candidates, we’ll have to let—”

 

Before she could finish her sentence, her younger sister interrupted.

 

Sheng Shubai’s expression turned cold. “Sister, Lu Jia can’t do that.”

 

“It was just a casual question. If you’re so against it, forget I mentioned it.”

 

Sheng Shujun knew her sister’s temperament all too well. This stern look meant she was serious, leaving no room for discussion.

 

Fine, she thought. Talented students like Lu Jia were rare. Sending her to Song Lan’s studio would be a waste.

 

In their line of work, an artist’s state of mind and experiences profoundly influenced their style—even to the point, as with Sheng Shubai, of refusing to pick up a brush again.

 

If Song Lan’s studio truly was a dangerous place, sending Lu Jia there would needlessly endanger her.

 

Her sister would be the first to object.

 

Saying nothing more, she stood up. “It’s late. Let’s get some rest.”

 

As Sheng Shujun put her glasses back on, gathered the documents from the coffee table, and prepared to head upstairs, Sheng Shubai called out softly, “Sister, you should rest early too.”

 

Sheng Shujun nodded. “Alright.”

 

After showering, Sheng Shubai effortlessly descended to the first floor and grabbed a bottle of red wine from the cabinet.

 

She lingered in the courtyard for a while. Looking up, she noticed the study light on the upper floor had been extinguished, indicating Sheng Shujun had finished her work.

 

Swirling the wine in her glass, her gaze drifted downward, spotting a light still on in another guest room on the second floor.

 

Leaving the bottle in the living room, she poured the remaining half-glass of wine into a glass and carried it upstairs.

 

Lu Jia leaned against the headboard, absorbed in reading the research paper her mentor had sent that evening.

 

The day’s revelations had been overwhelming. Even for someone as composed as Lu Jia, the documents Sheng Shujun had presented pushed the boundaries of her understanding.

 

What troubled her most was how to interact with Shen Zhiwei moving forward.

 

If her act slipped up, even slightly, wouldn’t it jeopardize Sheng Shubai’s plan?

 

The thought kept Lu Jia awake.

 

As she turned another page of the paper, her phone screen suddenly lit up.

 

A message from Sheng Shubai: “Open the door.”

 

Lu Jia froze, followed by three soft knocks on the door.

 

When Lu Jia opened the door, Sheng Shubai was standing outside, holding a glass of red wine. The wine swirled gently, creating faint ripples.

 

Lu Jia’s gaze lingered for a moment on the slender, pale fingers gripping the glass.

 

Puzzled, Lu Jia began, “Miss Sheng, it’s so late—”

 

Before she could finish, Sheng Shubai gently nudged her shoulder, guiding her back into the bedroom with a firm push.

 

Sheng Shubai casually set the wine glass on the side table by the door, the crisp clink of glass against wood jolting Lu Jia partially awake from the sudden kiss.

 

Lu Jia’s hand, resting on Sheng Shubai’s shoulder, tightened slightly.

 

She turned her head to avoid the woman’s pursuing lips, her breath uneven. “Miss Sheng… we’re… we’re at President Sheng’s place.”

 

They were staying in two guest bedrooms on the second floor, separated from Sheng Shujun’s master suite on the third floor by only a ceiling.

 

This was highly inappropriate.

 

Although it had been several days since they’d last been intimate—and according to their contract, two nights a week, it was time for Lu Jia to fulfill her part of the agreement—this location was entirely unsuitable. President Sheng was upstairs; what if their movements became too loud…?

 

“What’s wrong with this?”

 

The familiar sensitive spots, usually so reliable, proved particularly effective in this moment.

 

Sheng Shubai leaned close to Lu Jia’s ear, gently biting her soft earlobe. After just a few nibbles, the girl who had been struggling to break free immediately melted back into her arms—a remarkably swift effect.

 

Before Lu Jia could resist further, Sheng Shubai’s voice drifted into her ear, a soft laugh laced with a ticklish warmth: “She already knows.”

 

Lu Jia froze. “What?”

 

Sheng Shubai didn’t reply. She lifted a wine glass, pressing its cool rim against Lu Jia’s lips, urging her to open them.

 

Guided by the opposing force, the rich aroma of the wine spread through Lu Jia’s mouth.

 

Lu Jia had a low alcohol tolerance, and this was a potent red wine with a delayed kick. After just two small sips, she tried to stop.

 

But Sheng Shubai wasn’t about to let her off so easily.

 

Her eyes narrowed, slowly scanning Lu Jia’s lips.

 

A faint, cool dampness lingered there—it was impossible to tell whether it was from the wine or the lingering traces of their kiss.

 

Sheng Shubai tilted her head back and drained the remaining wine, her hand holding the glass resting against her waist. With her other hand, she stroked Lu Jia’s nape, slowly transferring the wine drop by drop into her mouth.

 

It was impossible to say who drank more. But when they finally parted, their eyes were both glazed with more than just a clear-headed intoxication.

 

The night was thick and dark, pressing against the curtains.

 

The bedroom’s main light had been switched off, leaving only the bedside reading lamp casting a warm, eye-friendly glow as Lu Jia reviewed her research materials.

 

Lu Jia no longer resisted. She… wanted this too.

 

Pushed onto the soft bed, her forearm accidentally pressed against the edge of the tablet, causing her to groan softly. She gently poked Sheng Shubai’s shoulder, signaling her to wait a moment.

 

The tablet, dedicated to reading research papers, was set to stay on. Seeing Lu Jia lower her eyes to place it back on the nightstand, Sheng Shubai leaned down and nuzzled her nose.

 

“Still up so late? Were you really just studying?” Sheng Shubai’s voice was softer and lower than usual, tinged with a light intoxication.

 

Lu Jia nodded honestly. “I wasn’t sleepy, so I read for a bit.”

 

“Ah, so I was just being presumptuous.”

 

Sheng Shubai’s nimble fingers traced down the buttons of Lu Jia’s pajamas, then drifted lower to her waist, caressing her skin with a feather-light touch.

 

Warm breath mingled with soft, wet kisses on the side of Lu Jia’s neck.

 

Lu Jia flinched slightly, but before she could respond, the kisses deepened, becoming more insistent and nipping.

 

“I thought… you were waiting for me, Little Sister Lu.”