Li Yaru learned that Zhuang Qiting intended to pursue her, and that very night she had a terrifying erotic dream.
The monstrous creature with a snake’s tail and a human body appeared again, filling two places at once— one front and one back— making her so full she could barely breathe.
When she woke, her nightgown was damp with sweat. She was so exhausted that her eyes glazed over, yet she undeniably felt a strange pleasure.
Once again, Zhuang Qiting disrupted her peaceful, leisurely life— not with his usual overwhelming presence, aloof and lofty— but in a way that gave her an even bigger headache.
For the next week, Zhuang Qiting made no moves. Meanwhile, those annoying news stories vanished without a trace, and no tabloids twisted her story anymore.
Normally, such heat wouldn’t die down so quickly; it was probably the Zhuang Family’s intervention.
But suppressing the rumors was futile— as long as they never gave a formal statement, the divorce speculation would always haunt them.
Li Yaru had no intention of being the scapegoat, and it was even less likely Zhuang Qiting would be; he cared far too much about his face.
Whatever. She was living her own life, indifferent to what others thought.
Lately, Zhuang Qiting had become elusive, almost ghostlike. Although often absent, he appeared frequently in public.
The latest issue of ‘Finance Under the Spotlight’ featured a personal interview with him, gracing the cover.
The man wore a sharply tailored black suit with a pale gold tie. His well-maintained skin showed only faint lines; a high nose bridge and deep-set brow gave him a strong, ageless bone structure.
His jet-black eyes looked cold but resolute into the camera. In his hand, he held a red gold snakeskin fountain pen, exuding an air of calm command, strategy, and power that seemed to radiate even through the paper.
The headline read: “The Most Glorious Legend of Hong Kong Island’s Golden Era—Zhuang Qiting, the Hero Whose Glory Never Fades.”
Li Yaru’s eyes were drawn to that familiar pen— it was the gift she had chosen for Zhuang Qiting’s thirtieth birthday, specially picked with snakeskin to match his peculiar signet ring.
At the time she gave it, she already knew what it meant to “cut off one’s own foot to hurt oneself.”
The rough texture of the snakeskin was far coarser than a man’s fingertip, scratching her skin in the most maddening way.
His terrifying possessiveness wouldn’t allow anything besides himself, except this pen, which he had approved to be kept just one room away.
So often, both his fingers and the pen were busy together; the cold, smooth end of the nib was made of polished 24K gold, icy and slippery to the touch.
Zhuang Qiting was cruel— he deliberately told her she had damaged his new pen, that the delicate snakeskin couldn’t be soaked in water, much less sticky syrup.
In his teasing, he demanded she compensate him with another gift and wear that chain necklace for him.
Li Yaru bit his cheek in anger, leaving him too ashamed to show his face in public for a whole week.
That old scoundrel even had the nerve to pose with that pen on a magazine cover!
Li Yaru’s face flushed. She threw the magazine down, “Legendary hero? Just a lecherous old man. Sijie, cancel the subscription to this magazine. Tasteless.”
“Order more fashion and art magazines.”
Liang Sijie nodded in agreement.
“Oh right, I forgot to ask — how’s Madam Zheng treating you on the yacht? She hasn’t…,” Li Yaru hesitated, “…she hasn’t given you any trouble, has she?”
Liang Sijie lowered his head, arranging a complex bouquet of flowers with his slender fingers, attempting to craft the most beautiful composition. He spoke gently, “No trouble.”
Binding lush pink snow hydrangeas with small carnations and green bellflowers into a bundle, then placing them into a pastel-colored vase, Liang Sijie fiddled a bit more and broke his usual silence again. “Madam, I only want to stay by your side, if that’s okay.”
“Please… don’t make me serve anyone else.”
Li Yaru’s heart trembled. How could she understand this was Liang Sijie’s way of refusing? Guilt welled up inside her as she softly covered his finely boned hand with her own delicate palm.
His hand was full of maturity— slim and cool.
“It’s not your fault. This time, it’s mine. You are my housekeeper; I have the responsibility to protect you. If anyone messes with you, I’ll scold them back.”
Liang Sijie wanted to clasp her hand in return, but that was all he could do. At twenty-seven, he had long since learned to conceal himself in this familiar routine.
Without moving a muscle, he said gently, “Thank you, Madam. I just want to stay by your side and take good care of the Li Residence.”
Warmth surged in Li Yaru’s heart—she was truly lucky to have found such a treasure.
This young housekeeper was completely beyond her expectations: meticulous and diligent, solid in his work.
The Li Residence was kept impeccable, with every corner adorned with fresh, vibrant cut flowers; every dress carefully ironed; worn high heels personally polished by him, ensuring not a speck of dust remained.
The home was clean, bright, and comfortable— comparable to the service of a top-tier seven-star hotel.
With a housekeeper like this, what woman needed a husband?
“By the way, Madam, I want to reinforce the villa’s security measures. I’d also like to replace two of your bodyguards, and the new chef as well.” As he said this, a flicker of coldness flashed in Liang Sijie’s gentle eyes.
So there was still the possibility of leaks despite all precautions. Mr. Zhuang really had sharp eyes and hands—he had fortified the Li Residence into a fortress, yet still managed to plant people inside.
Li Yaru smiled slightly, unconcerned about such trivial matters. “You have authority over personnel, Li Residence.”
Liang Sijie: “I don’t want these small matters to trouble you, Madam. But considering they might be arranged by Zhuang Xiansheng, I have to inform you.”
Zhuang was truly merciless— slamming his palm on the table, gritting his teeth, “That old bastard!”
Zhuang Qiting could be straightforward and honest when it came to important matters, and Li Yaru was reasonable.
But he refused to be reasonable, always hiding in the shadows to spy on her and control her— indecent behavior.
Like back when she wanted to study in the US, he was convinced it was for Fan Zizhuo’s sake and silently tolerated it, resorting to underhanded tactics.
Li Yaru pondered for a moment and easily cracked the problem: “Since the residence only hires young and handsome men, those with poor looks or unfit figures won’t be employed.”
Zhuang Qiting wouldn’t allow any young, beautiful men near her; any spies he sent would be older and of average appearance. So from now on, she would only use young, handsome men.
Liang Sijie paused, somewhat embarrassed, uncertain whether he had just bitten Zhuang Xiansheng’s hand in secret or himself. He helplessly replied, “Understood, Madam.”
The fitness coach arrived on time to accompany Li Yaru with her morning exercise.
The Li Residence was calm and peaceful at noon, the garden’s roses blooming, and in the distance, blue waves lapped against the golden beach.
Li Yaru lay on the yoga mat, listening to soothing music. Her skin was more elastic and radiant from the sweat.
Her fluffy curls were tied messily into a bun, with some fine wisps sticking out. Her body was wrapped in a tight yoga suit, voluptuous and toned, full and firm.
Just at this moment of relaxation, four trucks rumbled toward the Li Residence, followed by a black Bentley at the front and three ordinary Mercedes SUVs trailing behind.
Without any appointment, the highly trained security still opened the gates easily. Li Guanjia stepped out and stood gracefully by the iron gate to wait.
He was an elder who had served alongside Zhuang Qiting for years. Who in Hong Kong’s fame and fortune circles didn’t know him?
Who wouldn’t politely call him Uncle Li? But at the Li Residence, if you had to wait, you waited.
Minutes later, Liang Sijie came out. After a brief negotiation, he asked the others to wait.
The fitness coach was massaging Li Yaru’s muscles, surprised to hear Li Guanjia had arrived.
“Four more trucks?”
“Yes, Madam. We don’t know what’s inside yet.”
Li Yaru suspected Zhuang Qiting had made no move but remained calm as expected. She smiled faintly, casually asking, “Is he here too?”
Liang Sijie: “Unlikely. I glanced at the vehicles when Li Guanjia arrived. No one else. The last few vehicles are ordinary— probably workers helping with the move.”
“Then please invite Uncle Li in.” Li Yaru raised her chin, proud.
The spacious courtyard gate, three and a half meters wide, slowly opened, and the convoy rolled in.
Li Yaru had just finished showering, casually wiping her face with a soft towel.
She changed into a short T-shirt but kept on her yoga pants. Her shapely legs wore sneakers; her face was bare, relaxed and natural.
Li Guanjia squinted slightly, waiting respectfully for Madam Li to come out. The moment he saw Li Yaru, he greeted her with a formal bow. “Madam—” Almost slipped saying “Grandma,” he hurriedly corrected, “Ms. Li, I apologize for the unannounced visit today. Please forgive me.”
Li Yaru shot him a disapproving glance. “Enough with the formalities. Tell me, with all this fuss, was it another task from your old master?”
Old master…
Li Guanjia twitched at the corner of his eye. Calling Madam Li “Grandma” was giving Zhuang Xiansheng a little face, but actually, it was for his own sake!
“The master sent me to deliver some things.”
Li Guanjia clapped his hands, and soon a group of staff in black uniforms with white gloves descended from the SUVs.
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