After the Online Romance with the Campus Beauty Roommate Went Wrong - Chapter 37

As Sang Shi’an left her office, she checked her reflection in the mirror repeatedly, confirming that her face remained flawless before finally leaving with confidence.

The elevator doors opened to reveal Jian Chenyu’s car parked at the private elevator entrance, hazard lights flashing, as if she had anticipated Sang Shi’an’s exit.

Sang Shi’an smiled, turned, and opened the passenger door, deigning to settle into the seat.

Just as she was about to speak, a call came through. The voice of the financial assistant echoed through the line: “Miss Sang, you forgot your Naples watch by the mirror. You haven’t left the office yet, have you? I can bring it to you now.”

Jian Chenyu glanced sideways at Sang Shi’an.

Sang Shi’an felt deeply embarrassed. While reapplying her makeup, she had noticed the watch’s color clashed with her outfit and casually removed it. She must have forgotten to put it back on after touching up her lipstick.

She hastily replied, “Just give it to my brother tomorrow,” and hung up abruptly.

“…She’s not the financial assistant who works for me,” Sang Shi’an murmured.

Jian Chenyu lowered her voice as well: “I never said she was the financial assistant rushing off to a date.”

Sang Shi’an: ……

She awkwardly changed the subject: “Weren’t we going to dinner?”

Jian Chenyu didn’t call her out. She pointed to the seatbelt and asked, “Any restaurant you’d like to go to?”

“Anything’s fine. Let’s drive around first,” Sang Shi’an replied, turning sideways to buckle her seatbelt. Her gaze lingered on Jian Chenyu. “What’s with the fancy outfit today?”

Jian Chenyu was wearing a black velvet Hepburn-style dress. A long, dark gold silk ribbon tied into a bow at the neckline on her left side, revealing a moon-white diamond stud in her left ear—a gem as cold and noble as a jewel from a frozen Arctic mountain.

“Do you like it?” Jian Chenyu pressed Sang Shi’an’s hovering hand down, securing the seatbelt with a click.

The movement inadvertently revealed a matching diamond necklace around Jian Chenyu’s wrist. Though a stark departure from her usual style, it didn’t seem ostentatious, merely serving as an understated complement to her ensemble.

Sang Shi’an’s gaze paused for two seconds before she casually leaned back in her seat. “It’s alright, I guess.”

Remembering that Jian Chenyu might have dressed this way specifically to meet her brother, Sang Shi’an’s expression darkened, and her tone turned frosty. “If you’re coming down with a cold, don’t get me sick.”

Jian Chenyu turned up the car’s air conditioning. “It’s not cold in here. I’ll put on a coat when we get out.”

Sang Shi’an hummed softly, grudgingly satisfied. “Then do as you please.”

Because of Jian Chenyu’s outfit, Sang Shi’an ultimately chose a French restaurant. The food was mediocre, but the ambiance was elegant, with floor-to-ceiling windows offering a view of the brightly lit city and the Chao River, where occasional boats drifted slowly by.

Midway through their meal, Jian Chenyu asked about Sang Shi’an’s internship at Sheng Yu. “How’s the company treating you this weekend?”

Sang Shi’an answered honestly, “It’s more boring than classes. There’s so much rote memorization.”

Jian Chenyu chuckled. “That’s how it is at first. Once you get a feel for things and start working on projects, it’ll become more flexible. The financial assistant they assigned you was reportedly poached from PricewaterhouseCoopers—she’s highly qualified.”

“How do you know she used to work at PricewaterhouseCoopers?” Sang Shi’an paused, her fork clattering against her plate, then quickly realized her mistake. “Do you know her?”

“No, your brother mentioned it,” Jian Chenyu replied.

How long was your meeting with him this afternoon?

Sang Shi’an aggressively sliced her lamb chop, nearly cutting through the bone. After a long silence, she finally muttered, “You two must be very close.”

Jian Chenyu blinked, then repeated with amusement, “Very close?”

“Mm-hmm,” Sang Shi’an grunted, too annoyed to explain who she meant by “you two.”

After all, she didn’t rank high in Jian Chenyu’s romantic priorities.

But only temporarily.

The weekend gave her feverish mind time to cool down, allowing her to clearly recognize that this was the kind of love she had always scorned.

She couldn’t deny it, even if she wanted to.

“Cash flow, bank trust loans, dividend yields, company assets, new business expansions, overseas expansion returns…” Sang Shi’an rattled off a few frequently used terms, changing the subject. “The cash flow constraints are even tighter than the special cases in our textbooks. The past financial data has me on edge.”

Jian Chenyu replied gently, smiling, “Your brother is indeed a bit extreme, but Sheng Yu has thrived under his leadership in recent years. He seems determined to drive a business transformation, with virtual assets and investments accounting for an increasingly larger share in the future. I suspect your parents had this in mind when they chose your major.”

Sang Shi’an nodded, only half understanding. “What about your family? Did your grandfather or the others mention Jian Zhenyang’s situation last time?”

“The Huaxing Project is already halfway completed, so it can’t be terminated. They’ve reassigned it to Jian Zhenyang’s younger brother.”

Sang Shi’an found this odd. “Aren’t you going to do anything about it?”

“That project has too many hidden risks. Taking it over would be a real headache, especially since…” Jian Chenyu paused, lifting her gaze to meet Sang Shi’an’s eyes.

Sang Shi’an held her breath. “Especially since what?”

Jian Chenyu smiled, easing the tension in the air as she deftly concealed the dark undercurrent in her eyes. “Especially since they’re family.”

Sang Shi’an found this even more puzzling. She couldn’t shake the feeling that Jian Chenyu wasn’t the type to act out of pure altruism. She stared at Jian Chenyu for several seconds, trying to decipher her true intentions.

Jian Chenyu continued to dine with her usual elegance, showing no outward signs of anything amiss.

So what exactly does she mean?

After their meal, as they exited the restaurant, Sang Shi’an glanced at the mall’s giant LED screen, which was playing a trailer for a European art film. She quickly looked away, but noticed Jian Chenyu still watching the screen.

The screen’s vibrant colors reflected brightly in her pupils.

Sang Shi’an’s gaze shifted slightly, as if making casual conversation. “That actress is quite beautiful. I think I’ve seen her somewhere before.”

Jian Chenyu, who usually spent her days immersed in financial news and had no time for entertainment, surprisingly responded, “She just won the Oscar for Best Actress. There were rumors this art film wouldn’t even be imported, but I guess…”

“Should we go see it?” Sang Shi’an suggested, then added under Jian Chenyu’s surprised gaze, “This kind of film won’t have high box office numbers, so it’s rare for it to even be imported.”

Jian Chenyu hesitated. “Didn’t you used to dislike these kinds of movies? Won’t you find it boring?”

Watching these films was indeed quite dull. When Xu Taotao was dating, she’d drag her boyfriend to romance movies, only to return and complain endlessly about how boring or melodramatic they were.

But she couldn’t exactly admit she’d rather see the newly released Spider-Man movie, could she?

What if Jian Chenyu bought her a bunch of snacks that wouldn’t disturb the viewing, turning the whole experience into a children’s show?

Sang Shi’an drawled, “Who said I don’t like these kinds of movies? Don’t think you know me so well. I’m into arthouse films now.”

Jian Chenyu chuckled. “Then check if the showtimes work for us.”

Interrupting her, Sang Shi’an opened the ticketing app on her phone. Plenty of seats were available at nearby theaters. Without a flicker of emotion, she declared, “Perfect.”

Forty minutes later, Sang Shi’an sat in the back row of the theater, listening to the French dialogue filling the screen, and felt herself drifting off to sleep. She decided she must be having a bad day with the French.

Sang Shi’an shifted her milk tea from her left hand to her right, then back to her left, before rearranging the popcorn. She watched a sweeping long shot of a ranch in the film, gradually transitioning from dusk to night.

In the dim theater, Sang Shi’an tilted her head, her gaze lowered as she watched the screen’s light trace Jian Chenyu’s focused profile, then fade into shadow.

When the lights came on again, the movie was ending. Jian Chenyu shook Sang Shi’an awake.

She had slept through a full hour and a half of the two-and-a-half-hour film.

Jian Chenyu asked her, “Did you enjoy the movie?” His tone was teasing, with a hint of amusement.

Sang Shi’an replied, her voice slightly nasal, “It was a good nap.”

Jian Chenyu finally couldn’t hold back and burst out laughing.

The lights were only half-on, and the end credits were still rolling, perhaps hinting at a post-credits scene. Jian Chenyu seemed determined to see the film through to its conclusion, so Sang Shi’an remained seated. While waiting, she noticed a girl three or four rows ahead turn around and wave at them.

Sang Shi’an didn’t recognize her, but she saw Jian Chenyu nod warmly in the girl’s direction.

Sang Shi’an immediately grew alert. “You know her?”

Jian Chenyu explained, “She’s a junior sister. We met her last time, and she gave you a capybara-shaped lollipop, remember?”

The mention of the lollipop jogged Sang Shi’an’s memory. She had been so charmed by its cuteness that she couldn’t stop thinking about it for days. Looking at the girl again, she confirmed it was indeed the same one from before.

After the post-credits scene ended, the junior sister approached them to say hello. Her gaze darted back and forth between Sang Shi’an and Jian Chenyu several times, as if trying to decipher something, before she finally spoke.

Unable to join the conversation, Sang Shi’an excused herself to use the restroom.

When she returned, the junior sister had already left, and Jian Chenyu was staring down at her phone, tapping away at something.

“Did Senior Sister leave?” Sang Shi’an asked, leaning closer. She assumed Jian Chenyu was replying to a message, but was surprised to see photos of herself and Jian Chenyu on the screen, with the cinema as the backdrop.

Jian Chenyu explained, “She asked if I minded her posting these on the school forum. I looked through a few and felt they weren’t quite appropriate, so I asked her not to share them.”

“What’s inappropriate? It’s not like our photos haven’t been posted on the forum before,” Sang Shi’an said, taking Jian Chenyu’s phone. She was about to dismiss it as an overreaction when she swiped through a few more images and realized something was off.

The armrest between her and Jian Chenyu’s seats had vanished without her noticing. Sang Shi’an racked her brain, recalling that the armrest had definitely been there on her left side before she fell asleep, and she’d even rested her milk tea on it a few times.

But that wasn’t the important part. What mattered was that most of her body was nestled in Jian Chenyu’s arms, as if she had deliberately burrowed into his embrace, clinging to him tightly.

In contrast, Jian Chenyu appeared much calmer in the photos, merely steadying her with one hand. The candid shot caught a hint of helplessness in his eyes.

Sang Shi’an brazenly lied, “It’s just leaning on someone while sleeping. What’s so scandalous about that? Those idle forum users find everything nauseating anyway.”

Jian Chenyu played along, “You’re right, it’s perfectly normal.”

Sang Shi’an: …

Normal my ass.

After a long pause, she blurted out, “Send me a copy of these photos.”

Jian Chenyu: “What do you want them for?”

Sang Shi’an replied calmly, “I don’t feel secure with this kind of leverage in your hands. I need my own evidence.”

Evidence of their affair.

Jian Chenyu: “Evidence?”

Sang Shi’an’s impatience flared. “Are you going to send them or not?”

Two minutes later, the photos were safely stored in Sang Shi’an’s encrypted album.