Lin Zhishui stood outside the carriage restroom.
The breeze was cool, and the shade of the phoenix trees brushed gently over her.
She could still feel the lingering warmth on her waist, where Ning Shangyu’s palm had touched her skin just now—his vivid warmth seemed to have branded itself there.
Somewhat dazed, Lin Zhishui brushed her bangs aside, the flush at the corners of her eyes flickering as she glanced at the man who had followed her off the car, What just happened?
Meanwhile, Ning Shangyu was adjusting his Hongbao Cufflinks on his suit with an unhurried, aloof restraint.
Then, with a calm expression, he signaled, “Not going in?”
Lin Zhishui followed his gaze toward the tailor shop.
She almost forgot about the precious fabric she’d been thinking about for days!
“I want to go,” she said.
Without dwelling on the earlier confusion, Lin Zhishui lifted her skirt and stepped onto the stone steps.
Ning Shangyu squinted slightly as he watched her elegant, striking figure.
His fingers paused briefly on his Hongbao Cufflinks before he followed her inside, his face expressionless.
This tailor shop was practically Lin Zhishui’s “close friend.”
Inside, more than ten skilled artisans worked—true inheritors of traditional craft.
They specialized in custom clothing for the Gang District’s wealthy elite.
Their craftsmanship was so exquisite that guests would willingly part with their money.
Occasionally, they would embroider charity pieces as well.
The moment Lin Zhishui entered, it was as if a misty aura surrounded her, quietly permeating the room—her presence impossible to ignore.
A female clerk who was busy checking accounts at the front desk looked up and froze, her eyes lighting up.
She quickly whispered to her colleague, “Go tell Boss Wan—Lin Miss is here!”
Before the words had fully left her lips, she seemed to notice the tall figure behind Lin Zhishui.
Startled for a second, she added, “And she brought a… god-level handsome man.”
Wan Lu was the owner of this shop.
From the first time she saw Lin Zhishui years ago, she felt as if she hadn’t seen such a rare, delicate person in ages.
Lin Zhishui’s aura was pure white; even standing still, she could easily arouse goodwill in anyone.
Later, when introducing herself, she would say her name was Wan Lu—
Lu as in dew, just like Zhishui’s name, which meant the two were fated to meet in this life.
As long as Lin Zhishui was willing to grace the shop with her presence, she was always treated with the utmost hospitality.
Most of the shop’s clientele were women.
Ning Shangyu stopped in the tea lounge, sitting on an antique sofa embroidered with gold thread, incense burning nearby.
The gentle, vivid decor contrasted sharply with his aura, making him appear all the more striking.
Separated by a semi-translucent white bead curtain.
“Long time no see.”
Wan Lu greeted her in her usual way, her large smiling eyes sparkling with a hint of mischief.
“Our little troublemaker’s coming-of-age ceremony has just passed, and that face looks even more beautiful now. Let me guess, is it because someone’s been drinking the water of love lately, all nourished and radiant?”
“That’s right.”
Lin Zhishui’s tone was half-true, half-playful, her voice soft and light. “I’m waiting for Boss Wan’s fabric to nourish my body.”
Wan Lu understood her little obsession with beauty.
She signaled her assistant to bring out the latest batch of fabric.
Then, glancing through the bead curtain, she tried to catch a glimpse of Ning Shangyu’s face, but with things in the way, she couldn’t see him clearly.
Still, his overwhelming presence seemed to reach into the room, making her heart race for no reason.
She couldn’t help but try to sneak another look.
Wan Lu whispered, “The man outside—is he the fiancé that Sheng Mingli, that ruthless woman, picked for you?”
Lin Zhishui glanced at her.
Wan Lu asked again, “Have you seen him yet?”
Lin Zhishui, distracted by thoughts of fabric, replied absentmindedly, “Just once.”
“Really?”
“It’s basically a trial marriage!”
Wan Lu, seeing Lin Zhishui wasn’t forthcoming, raised her voice ever so slightly, unable to contain her curiosity.
Lin Zhishui was caught off guard, instinctively turning to check if Ning Shangyu had overheard.
She wasn’t sure how loud Wan Lu had been.
Hopefully not.
Wan Lu, who had nearly caused trouble, just laughed and pointed out, “You’re blushing.”
Lin Zhishui didn’t need to touch her face to feel the heat, but she forced herself to appear calm.
“You guess.”
“Guess what?”
Wan Lu loved to guess, but this time she pretended not to.
She’d been in the Gang District for years and heard plenty of high-society secrets.
By now, rumors of Lin family’s marriage had spread like wildfire.
Wan Lu could only sigh at Sheng Mingli’s ruthlessness—keeping her youngest daughter hidden all these years, only to send her out the moment she reached adulthood, inviting all sorts of speculation.
Wan Lu personally poured a cup of floral tea for Lin Zhishui to help her cool down, then, in the tone of a caring older sister, offered some advice, “Your fiancé, putting aside his status… and even ignoring that face that’s sure to attract women, just look at that physique—he’s obviously very fertile. Honestly, if he’s willing, he could make countless women dream of him every night, wishing to pounce on him.”
As her words trailed off, Wan Lu lowered her voice even more, considerate of Lin Zhishui’s concerns.
“Trust me, my eyes are sharp—he’s definitely beyond what your delicate little life can handle. You’d better get some practice in before the wedding.”
But what if…?
Lin Zhishui’s fingers paused on her teacup as she recalled Ning Shangyu’s tall, imposing figure, which seemed capable of enveloping her completely.
She hesitated and quietly asked, “What if it doesn’t work?”
Wan Lu, matter-of-fact, said, “Practice more.”
How long should I practice?
Lin Zhishui was a little lost, about to ask for details, when the assistant came in with a tray, the crisp sound of bead curtains interrupting their conversation.
Now came Lin Zhishui’s favorite part—choosing fabrics.
If she had the time, she could spend all day picking.
Wan Lu had prepared the finest, rarest pieces.
No matter the color, Lin Zhishui could wear them all. Just then, she caught sight of a carmine Su Embroidery qipao displayed in the showcase.
She admired it for a long moment.
Suddenly, Wan Lu smiled and said, “That’s my new treasure of the shop. No one’s been able to wear it, so it’s just been on display. But you… you could give it a try.”
Lin Zhishui was already tempted and didn’t hesitate to try it on.
The qipao seemed made for her.
In no time, Lin Zhishui slipped into it, the fit seamless.
When she stepped out onto the carpet, everyone’s eyes lit up.
Wan Lu actually took two steps back, as if getting too close to this little troublemaker made her feel inadequate by comparison.
But that didn’t stop her from talking, “If only Wan Shifu were here today, I’d have her take a look. This piece seems tailored for you. Usually, plenty of clients want to try it on, but after Wan Shifu takes their measurements, it’s either the waist isn’t slim enough or the chest too flat, and they’re turned away before even getting to try.”
In the end, Wan Lu deliberately dragged out her words, emphasizing, “With a figure like yours, it’s a pity to keep it hidden.”
Lin Zhishui wasn’t paying attention to her words.
She stood in front of the half-wall mirror, eyes lowered to examine her reflection.
After a while, her gaze drifted to the exquisite hem of the qipao draped over her chest, embroidered with a flower branch beaded with dew—beautiful, though the cut was a bit short.
It would be fine for private wear.
Lin Zhishui felt a bit regretful and subconsciously prepared to change out of it.
Just then, Ning Shangyu’s calm voice echoed through the old tailor shop, low and magnetic, “Keep it on.”
Lin Zhishui’s heart trembled at those three words.
She turned around.
Wan Lu peeked through the bead curtain at the man outside and immediately chimed in, “Exactly, exactly! Why take it off? At home, you’d just have to sneak around in your room to wear it—what’s the fun in that?”
Lin Zhishui had no chance to refuse.
Ning Shangyu tapped his fingers on the wooden counter, signaling Xi Bin to settle the bill.
Xi Bin stepped forward at once.
Wan Lu, working the abacus, said, “These are all what you wanted. My fabrics are extremely rare, so for all these together…”
She smiled, “Just one million.”
“As for the qipao, it’s the treasure of the shop. Considering my relationship with our little troublemaker here, I’ll give you a friendly price—eight million.”
“Is that okay?”
That’s too expensive.
Eight million could buy a pile of fabric and have A Xiao help make something at home.
She almost wanted to say she didn’t want the qipao anymore.
The next second, Ning Shangyu replied indifferently, “We’ll take it.”
A smile bloomed on Wan Lu’s face—truly a big spender.
Judging by this, Lin Zhishui’s future material, spiritual, and physical needs would be more than satisfied.
Then, Wan Lu said earnestly to Lin Zhishui, who was too stunned to speak, “He really is your man.”
Lin Zhishui didn’t know how to respond.
She glanced at the row of exquisite wooden boxes on the counter, all filled with fabric bought for her.
And the qipao she was wearing.
She felt a bit conflicted.
After all, her original intention was simply to use Ning Shangyu as an excuse to get out of the house—not to make him spend so much money.
Besides, a man had told her that even engaged couples should reciprocate gifts; she couldn’t let just one person pay.
But she barely left home and certainly didn’t have that much pocket money.
Just then, Lin Zhishui caught sight of a frosty white, subtly patterned fabric not far away, and suddenly thought of something.
“Let me see that fabric,” she said.
Wan Lu replied, “Of course.”
Once it was brought over, she thoughtfully cleared a space for the engaged couple to look at the fabric together.
A perfectly proper atmosphere, under Wan Lu’s attentive service, suddenly felt more like a lovers’ private rendezvous.
Lin Zhishui looked up.
Ning Shangyu was tall and conspicuous, standing there as she watched him.
Her cheeks were as fair as snow, with two red spots like they’d been burned, set off by the carmine qipao.
Lin Zhishui hesitated for a long time before speaking.
Perhaps it was a genuine sentiment, but in that moment, her sincerity was clear as day, “Thank you for the fabric and the qipao. Let me make you a shirt as a return gift, is that alright?”
Lin Zhishui didn’t know yet—
For someone like Ning Shangyu, every article he wore bore the family crest to show his status.
He preferred bold, rich colors, and all his suits and accessories were made by exclusive tailors, with a team ready to alter anything that didn’t fit perfectly.
He rarely, if ever, wore clothes from outside.
Lin Zhishui was just being polite when she asked.
After she spoke, she mimicked the tailor, holding the frosty white fabric up to him, careful not to touch Ning Shangyu’s chest.
Even though their posture was already somewhat intimate, getting a little closer made it possible to hear his breathing, as if it brushed against her heated cheeks.
Even more so.
Lin Zhishui even felt her neck flush red, and she subconsciously held her breath, lifting her clear, bright eyes.
“The color suits you well…”
Her voice trailed off.
Ning Shangyu, still expressionless, leaned down slightly.
His amber eyes reflected in hers, suddenly deepening.
Like golden flames in her pupils.
The next moment, Lin Zhishui stepped back two paces, struggling to steady her breathing.
She spoke softly, “Let’s settle it like that, then.”
Ning Shangyu didn’t say a word the whole time.
Only Lin Zhishui knew what had just been agreed.
As for that fabric, Lin Zhishui insisted on paying for it herself.
Privately, she asked Wan Lu to let her owe for a day, promising to bring the money by after she got home.
When they left the tailor shop,
Lin Zhishui, her arms full, didn’t need any prompting from Ning Shangyu to walk over to his side.
After choosing fabric together, the distance between them seemed to shrink, a rare sense of closeness emerging.
When the car reached the middle of the road, Lin Zhishui’s lashes trembled as she suddenly noticed Ning Shangyu’s gaze lingering on her neck.
She instinctively straightened her posture, then quietly tugged at the collar of her qipao.
But Ning Shangyu reached out, his fingers brushing her neck.
Lin Zhishui was startled by the warmth of his touch, unable to hide her surprise.
Huh?
Had things between them progressed to the point where he could touch her neck?
The next second, Ning Shangyu’s voice was cool and calm, “It’s red.”
Lin Zhishui, born premature and always frail, was used to self-diagnosing.
She belatedly realized her skin had been burning for a while.
She took out her phone, switched to selfie mode, tilted her head, and clearly saw small red spots on the skin of her neck, just above her collar.
Lin Zhishui had worked so hard to earn her freedom to go out; she didn’t want to end up having to go home because of illness.
Unwilling to give up, she ignored everything else in front of Ning Shangyu, deftly unbuttoned two buttons, exposing her slender neck—a large patch of irritated skin visible, shocking to look at.
It looked like an allergic reaction.
But she’d only touched fabric, hadn’t eaten anything strange outside.
Could it really be the fabric?
Wait… Lin Zhishui lowered her head, recalling that the qipao had been scented—though the fragrance was faint.
Suddenly, she remembered she was allergic to a certain spice—was it bezoar?
Immediately, Lin Zhishui looked at Ning Shangyu, her fingertip poking his Hongbao Cufflinks, “Smell me.”