Li Yaru dried off, slipping into a silk robe as light as a feather, and stepped out from the misty bathroom.
The mixed-race boy had long since finished bathing, sitting obediently on the sofa at the head of the master bedroom’s bed.
He’d taken off his shirt, wearing only casual trousers, and was reading an English novel with a focused expression.
Hearing the faint sound of bare feet on the floor, he put down his book and looked up, smiling with dimples gracing the corners of his lips.
“Hi, Madam, I’m Derek.”
Li Yaru leaned against the bathroom doorframe, quietly appraising him.
Under the warm lighting, his hair was close to a golden brown, his skin not particularly pale but the sun-kissed wheat tone favored by many Westerners who frequented the beach.
From a distance, she couldn’t tell if his eyes were the bright green his friends boasted about, but they were very light, like two marbles.
The boy’s features were delicate—a box-shaped nose, pointed chin, narrow jawline, deep-set eyes quietly locking with hers, effortlessly conjuring tender, romantic pink bubbles.
His body was less refined than his face, instead wild and muscular, looking… intensely warm.
The master bedroom door was closed, everything so silent that Li Yaru could hear her own breathing.
She rolled her Adam’s apple and calmly walked over, picking up the bottle of red wine on the table.
Slowly, she poured half a glass, raised it, and took a sip.
“How did you and Lilian meet?” Li Yaru sat beside him on the sofa, trying to find some topic to chat about.
She couldn’t stand jumping straight to the point—it was too awkward. Although, even now, an awkwardness lingered, which she forced herself to ignore.
The woman’s presence brought a gentle fragrance. Derek inhaled softly.
He hadn’t expected tonight’s guest to be so… beautiful. So beautiful he felt like he was the one taking advantage.
Lilian was the Zheng Family Third Young Master’s Wife. Derek behaved impeccably, his palm holding the book.
“I entered a modeling contest. Lilian was a sponsor. I ended up having dinner with her, and we got along really well.”
Li Yaru smiled faintly, sipping her wine, her eyes shimmering with charming clarity.
“You’re a model? Oh, would you like some more to drink?”
Derek blinked. “May I drink from your glass? That is, if you don’t mind.”
Li Yaru noticed that the ‘ten-year-old boy’ was surprisingly smooth yet polite. If it were Zhuang Qiting, he probably would have just grabbed the glass straight away.
She smiled and handed him the glass she’d already sipped from.
“I usually take on some modeling gigs. Chicago University’s tuition is too expensive; I have to save up.”
Derek was very frank.
The tuition alone was over sixty thousand U.S. Dollars a year, plus living expenses. He was stretched thin, doing everything he could just to cover tuition.
So he wouldn’t refuse the financial help from wealthy women, who were often called “sugar mommies.” There was nothing disgraceful about it— many of his classmates did the same.
But this woman in front of him? No matter how he looked, she didn’t seem like the kind of woman who needed to buy affection with money.
She just needed to snap her fingers, and men would flock to her one after another.
The world of rich women— who could tell? Derek stopped guessing and just decided to make sure the enchanting madam tonight was satisfied.
After chatting for a while, Li Yaru felt she was perhaps putting on too much of an act. She couldn’t have called the boy over just to chat, right?
Yet the atmosphere never quite hit the mark. Even though she’d had wine, lit scented candles, sprayed perfume, and wore a sleep dress that wasn’t revealing but hinted at sensuality, the mood was still off.
The boy was gentle, obedient, handsome, muscular— everything was perfect.
Something was missing, though she couldn’t tell what.
Her mind was in turmoil, unable to figure it out.
Maybe it was the scent of the boy’s cologne— not the notes she liked.
Oceanic scents were too youthful, too fresh. Men’s fragrance should be deeper and more mature to have quality and charm.
“Madam… I’ll help you relax,” Derek noticed her distracted state.
Unbothered, he stood and knelt before her on one knee.
“I can give you a foot massage. Would you like to try?”
The handsome boy was like a tame little wild beast.
Li Yaru hesitated for a few seconds, biting her soft lips, then slowly extended her foot.
The diamond anklet shimmered under the warm light, her delicate sole resting against his wheat-colored chest.
She could feel the warmth beneath her foot—hot, but not nearly as scorching as Zhuang Qiting’s that seemed to burn into the soul.
Derek swallowed and almost instinctively became alert.
He kept his breathing steady, gently cradling her beautiful foot.
His nimble fingers started pressing and kneading skillfully.
He had once worked at a high-end spa in Chicago, learning systematic massage techniques that left wealthy ladies powerless to resist.
Li Yaru’s tender foot was pressed with just the right amount of comforting pressure.
She lazily sank into the sofa, impressed.
The skill rivaled that of her regular massage therapist on Hong Kong Island.
Derek lowered his gaze, eyes fixed on the foot, his Adam’s apple moving continuously.
“Madam, your feet are so soft.”
Li Yaru tilted her head back, closing her eyes, resting her foot on the boy’s shoulder.
Her whole body softened and relaxed.
The pressure grew increasingly intimate as he massaged, and he lowered his head to press a kiss on the top of her foot.
Warm and gentle, the kiss came with a breathy heat, blowing softly over her sensitive foot.
It felt… familiar. Zhuang Qiting had once bitten her foot, making her body melt and tremble, clutching her nightgown.
The atmosphere grew too strange for her to continue pretending to enjoy it.
She opened her eyes quickly. “You—”
“What’s wrong, Madam?”
Derek placed her foot over his heart and slowly slid it downward, silently flirting.
His step was firm, resilient.
Li Yaru curled her toes, pressing down hard, then stopped.
“How many people have you served before?”
Derek paused, answering honestly.
“Only three before you, Madam. Not many. Don’t worry. None were as beautiful as you—you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”
Li Yaru suddenly lost all interest.
No thoughts at all.
She withdrew her foot and covered her eyes with her hand, voice flat.
“Sorry, Derek, I suddenly feel unwell. You can go now.”
Derek hadn’t expected this and said aggrievedly, “Did I do something wrong…?”
“It’s not your fault.” Li Yaru lifted her chin.
“Go. I’ll make sure my housekeeper pays you every cent tonight.”
Though reluctant, Derek could only agree.
He was too tempted by this alluring woman to leave without giving his best, even if unpaid…
“Madam, may I—”
“Ding dong. Ding dong. Ding dong.”
A sharp doorbell from the living room shattered the fragile mood.
Li Yaru frowned. Who could it be at this hour? A guest?
She was unsettled and didn’t get up to answer.
Instead, she instructed Derek, “Go see who it is. If it’s hotel staff, send them away—I don’t need any service here. Clean up and then get my housekeeper to pay you your fee for tonight.”
Regretfully, Derek complied, reluctantly retreating from the master bedroom.
Actually, while massaging Li Yaru, he had started to feel the burning heat radiating from his muscles, growing unbearable.
He lazily threw on a shirt without buttoning it and headed toward the entrance.
The doorbell continued ringing, like a persistent demand, ruining everything.
In the corridor, Secretary Shen glanced anxiously at his boss leaning against the wall.
The man’s head was bowed, face cold as ice, fingers gripping a golden-red lighter, repeatedly flicking it open and shut.
The crisp sound rang out like a dangerous signal, thickening the air with tension.
“If they don’t open soon, I’m breaking in with the card.”
“Yes, Mr. Zhuang.”
The hotel staff pushed a service cart, legs shaky.
He kept ringing the doorbell. “Hello, room service.”
Suddenly, the door opened.
Secretary Shen looked up immediately.
It was a golden-haired boy draped in a shirt that was only just put on, unbuttoned, revealing a tight, sensual muscular body still radiating the clean scent of freshly bathed skin.
Secretary Shen foresaw the world’s imminent collapse and shut his eyes painfully.
God… what had he just seen…
Derek: “Hello, I didn’t order room service— uh uh uh—”
He struggled, legs wriggling wildly on the carpet like slippery eels.
Two burly bodyguards in black suddenly rushed in from nowhere, swiftly covering Derek’s mouth and dragging him to room 6809.
Derek stood about 1.87 meters tall, usually strong and powerful in the gym, dominating in bench presses and weights.
But facing real retired special forces, he had no chance to resist.
Zhuang Qiting gripped the lighter, looking down on the chaotic scene.
The boy’s muscles flickered before his eyes.
He felt a surge of blood rush to his brain, blurring his vision.
Li Yaru. Li Yaru. Li Yaru!
She was determined to drive him crazy, to the point of coughing blood and death.
She wasn’t just angry— she was defiant! She even dared to bring home a “duck”!
“First… what now?” Secretary Shen bowed his head.
Zhuang Qiting’s gaze was dark and empty, each word cold as ice: “Strip him and check for marks. Detain him. Wait for my return.”
Then, he strode into room 6808, the heavy wooden door closing behind him.
Li Yaru lay listlessly on the sofa, stretching her legs and staring blankly at the ceiling.
Her long robe was thrown on the carpet, beneath which remained only a black lace silk slip, its thin straps loosely hanging.
She didn’t know what she was doing, a knot of anger blocking her chest.
After Derek left, she leaned down to check herself—still clean and fresh, showing no signs of excitement.
How could she not feel anything? Had she been sick for half a year?
But clearly, when she kissed Zhuang Qiting tonight, she was so stirred it was almost embarrassing.