More than ninety thousand kilometers away from Rome, it was the season of spring blossoms and warmth.
Compared to the heat of Hong Kong Island, spring had arrived early here, bringing a more comfortable and pleasant temperature, with sunlight softened by a gentle filter.
The exterior walls of the Royal Academy of Fine Arts in Rome were already adorned with promotional posters of the rising artist Kurt Cornelius Valeriano d’Aquila.
The large poster of the handsome blond with blue eyes made a strong impression.
With only one week left before the exhibition, everything was ready except for the final push.
As that push, Kurt was so anxious he couldn’t sleep. This was the first time his works were being exhibited in an artist-level gallery; previous gallery shows were just small-time affairs.
The exhibition coincided with Kurt’s 24th birthday, and the Cornelius d’Aquila family was meticulously preparing a personal auction of his paintings, inviting many prominent figures from all walks of life.
Kurt, wearing a paint-stained T-shirt, sat inside the already arranged exhibition hall, complaining to a man not far away: “I told them not to hold a birthday party, let alone an auction! Why won’t they listen to my opinion?”
People unwilling to buy his paintings only came because of his family’s reputation, not his talent.
The spirited young man couldn’t stand this kind of “insult.”
The man’s gaze fell on Kurt’s Serengeti series paintings but didn’t seem to hear a word Kurt said.
“Lorenzo, can you at least acknowledge me?” Kurt continued calling out, like a small dog barking nonstop.
The man named Lorenzo slowly turned his face.
He bore some resemblance to Kurt—both with dazzling blond hair—but his eyes were amber rather than deep blue.
His tall, strong frame was more robust compared to the lean youth, dressed in a well-tailored light beige suit.
His every move carried the charm of a mature gentleman.
At just twenty-seven, he was both ambitious and graceful, perfectly balanced.
“This was your parents’ decision. I have no right to interfere,” Lorenzo said in a pleasant, calm, husky voice.
“But don’t they always listen to you? You’re always more important than me in our family.” Kurt propped his face up, sighing.
Lorenzo chuckled lightly, his amber eyes piercing through the sunlight. “Kid, that’s only because you’re still too young.”
Though just three years apart in age, Lorenzo was the youngest brother of Kurt’s father, making him Kurt’s uncle.
In Lorenzo’s eyes, Kurt was still a little kid.
The exhibition lights were not fully turned on; sunlight poured through the dome, illuminating the paintings on the surrounding walls.
Various forms of life were vividly and passionately captured by the artist’s strokes—teeming with energy.
Lorenzo thought the theme was very fitting.
He seriously admired his nephew’s work, his brown leather shoes tapping slowly against the polished marble floor, producing a low sound.
Until he stopped before a painting covered with a black cloth in the best, most central spot of the exhibition hall.
“What is this one?”
It was a huge painting, hung in the prime spot in the hall, yet hidden beneath a black cloth like a bride’s veil unwilling to be revealed too soon.
Kurt looked at it with a fascinated gleam in his eyes. “This is my proudest and most perfect work.”
Lorenzo was rarely able to see his nephew so completely captivated.
Curious about what lay beneath the cloth, he smiled, “Not even I get a preview?”
Kurt was reluctant. He didn’t want others to see this painting, but hiding it forever felt cruel.
It was painted for him but did not belong to him.
“I’ll lift it. Don’t touch,” Kurt said seriously, crossing his hands like praying to a goddess, then pulled the black cloth away.
Lorenzo thought it was just a childish trick to create mystery and didn’t pay much attention.
His eyes glanced up lazily; when the cloth dropped, a gust of air rushed out, making him inhale lightly.
The painting showed an endless grassland, the setting sun suspended in the sky, its rays bathing everything in golden light.
A woman wore a yellow silk dress, lazily lying on the back of a fierce leopard.
Her eyes glanced sideways, black hair swept across her face, fluttering with the wind like a fairy who had descended by chance.
“This is…” Lorenzo stared at the painting without blinking. “You painted this?”
Kurt couldn’t hide his pride. “I told you, this is my most perfect work.”
Lorenzo’s amber pupils darkened with calm focus, deeply immersed.
After a long moment, he lifted his index finger to adjust the gold-rimmed glasses perched on his straight nose. “Surprisingly, your imagination keeps getting richer. The people you paint have a soul.”
Kurt shook his head repeatedly. “No no no, Eleanor is attending my exhibition, going to…… “
……
In Binhai City, a hidden five-star scenic area resort hotel was in off-season.
The day before had seen heavy rain, so there weren’t many tourists.
Locals knew that after rain, the mountains became truly quiet and serene, wrapped in swirling mist.
Inside the room, a sweet warmth hung thickly in the air, making Li Yaru’s breath quicken.
She pressed herself against the cold glass, trembling slightly.
The man’s dark eyes burned like fire, suppressing the tingling on his scalp, madness about to explode.
“Zhuang Qiting… can you just behave?” she finally lost patience, grabbing his strong, muscular arm, glaring at him in complaint.
“Li? How could I slack off?” Zhuang Qiting maintained his calm and slow tone.
Whether he listened or not was another matter.
The warmth of his skin steamed the glass with a thin layer of mist.
Li Yaru’s delicate fingers left messy paint-like marks on it.
Her snow-white neck was treated like a canvas, covered with dark red finger marks, hickeys, faint and overlapping.
“Zhuang…”
He kissed under her chin deeply and passionately.
She hadn’t come all the way to Binhai City just to eat, not even just to eat—it was service.
Zhuang Qiting now understood; the little one was stubborn, insisting it was service to her.
Fine, he was happy to serve, to enjoy serving, and serve day and night!
“Am I serving you well, Miss Li?”
“Still looking for others? Hm?”
He twisted her around 180 degrees, nearly deafening her with a scream.
Li Yaru was utterly speechless, her arms hanging weakly over his shoulders, feeling his hot breath pouring over her face.
She couldn’t tell if she was the one serving or the one being tormented.
“You old devil…” tears welled at the corner of her eyes as she bit hard into his muscular shoulder.
Until the clock on the wall dutifully completed three full circles.
Zhuang Qiting carried the cleaned-up Li Yaru out of the bathroom and gently laid her on the bed.
Then he squatted down and wiped the water droplets off her feet.
“You old bastard.” Li Yaru lifted her foot to press on his chest muscle, rubbing her toes back and forth. “If you dare do this again, next time forget it. Whether I enjoy it or you do, no cheating.”
Zhuang Qiting squinted, finding her flushed, satisfied expression amusing.
A wave of affection rose in his heart.
He leaned close, whispering into her ear, “Next time, you ride me.”
Li Yaru grabbed his neck and bit him hard on the mouth. “Shut up, stop with the dirty jokes!”
She flopped comfortably on the bed, arms stretched out in a T-shape, occasionally glancing at Zhuang Qiting, who was replying to work messages in the gaps of time.
He wore gold-rimmed glasses on his mature, sharp nose, the reflected light on the screen hiding his focused eyes.
How rare. After their divorce, they were actually this harmonious.
She secretly enjoyed this feeling. She had to admit, Zhuang Qiting’s gentleness at times was very heartwarming.
Li Yaru suddenly thought of when she was nineteen, brought by him to play golf for the first time.
He had held her from behind, gripping her hand with the same seriousness and focus as now.
If they had treated each other differently from the start—without dictatorship, without constant control or bullying—maybe they could have fallen in love.
“What’s wrong?” Zhuang Qiting caught her absent expression.
Li Yaru snapped back to reality, brushing away the flirtatious thoughts of a young girl.
She was already thirty years old—why think like that? Still, her cheeks reddened slightly.
“Nothing, just thinking about what luggage to bring for the trip to Rome the day after tomorrow.”
“You’re flying to Rome the day after tomorrow,” Zhuang Qiting narrowed his eyes and closed his laptop.
The day after tomorrow was his busiest time; he needed to fly to the mainland for a government-invited entrepreneur forum and a bank summit.
“Kurt invited me to his exhibition. Eh, why do you have so much to say? We agreed to keep the bed separate.”
Li Yaru rolled her eyes and quickly turned to lie on her side.
Zhuang Qiting got angry the moment he heard Kurt’s name.
That little vixen dared to call Li Yaru to Rome just for that lousy art exhibition, whose paintings combined were worth less than what Kurt made in a night.
“No—”
The word “no” was about to escape, but Zhuang Qiting stopped himself, gripping the white sheet tightly.
“Haven’t you had enough of Rome? He’s not a famous artist. Why go through the trouble of flying all the way?”
“He invited me, so of course I’m going. Just treat it like a vacation. Nothing much going on lately. Besides, Zhuang Qiting, you’re only my bed partner now. Why do you care so much?”
Zhuang Qiting was speechless at “only bed partner.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed. “I’m the father of your son, your mother’s son-in-law, and your future husband.”
Li Yaru: “???”
He sure liked adding titles for himself! She laughed, throwing off the blanket and happily lunging toward Zhuang Qiting, almost falling onto the bed but caught by him.
“Li Yaru, can you be more careful?”
“Zhuang Qiting, who said you’re my future husband? You’re quite the dreamer. But you’re cuter than before,” Li Yaru winked at him, eyes shining with satisfaction.
Zhuang Qiting’s breath hitched at her sudden affection, his heart skipping a beat. “Ah Rou, don’t call me cute. I’m not that… pretentious little man.”
He still couldn’t accept such words on a man’s head.
He was traditional—men should be strong, dignified, and ambitious.
Li Yaru laughed louder, biting him again. “Fine, fine, you’re a big man, the greatest big man in the world. Calling you cute is flattering you. I take it back!”
Zhuang Qiting said nothing, staring at her deeply.
“If you stop showing off, maybe we can keep this harmonious… bed partner relationship. But don’t worry, Zhuang Qiting, I’m not stingy. If you come with me, I won’t treat you badly. I’ll bring you gifts from Rome. What do you want? Ties? Watches? Brooches?”
“Coming with me…”
Zhuang Qiting felt like his life was spiraling into nonsense lately.
He grabbed her chin and kissed her fiercely.
“Stay away from that little vixen.”
“You’re just my bed partner. Besides, you’re Kurt’s elder. I have to call you uncle. Stop giving him nicknames. You’re old enough; can you not be so childish?”
“……”
No matter what, this state was much better than before. Zhuang Qiting didn’t want to ruin it.
He went along with her, pampered her, let her boss him around, and she was happy and in a good mood.
He’d slowly wear her down—eventually bring the little one home.
……
[Eleanor, I’m terribly sorry I can’t pick you up in person. I’ve been too busy these past days. I’ve arranged the best local private guide to accompany you throughout. I’ll come find you as soon as I’m free.]
Li Yaru smiled and replied: [You focus on the exhibition; I know it’s not easy. Don’t worry about me. Wishing you all the best and success!]
She turned off her phone and gazed out the window.
The ancient, eternal city unfolded beneath her feet, bathed in a calm warm yellow tone—vastly different from the exaggerated metallic steel forest of Hong Kong Island.
This city was like an oil painting left behind at the end of the gods’ era.
Li Yaru had visited Rome many times.
The first time was at eighteen, when she took the two thousand bonus her father gave her and traveled to Europe with her mother, feeling like she had seen everything yet nothing at all.
The second time was at twenty-two, flying on Zhuang Qiting’s private jet.
They rowed boats in Bolghese Park; that day Zhuang Qiting was in high spirits, took off his suit jacket to row personally, constantly reminding her to be careful.
But she was unruly, insisted on fighting a seagull trying to steal her fries, almost capsizing the boat.
That night back at the hotel, she got a spanking from Zhuang Qiting on that gilded bed because she was too disobedient and always worried him.
She remembered every detail of that night clearly: she gave birth, became a mother, yet he still treated her like a child.
Li Yaru laughed bitterly. Whenever memories involved Zhuang Qiting, she always ended up badly beaten—either a spanking or too exhausted to get out of bed. Nothing else.
That man had been domineering for most of his life, but now he was restrained, willing to bow his head, and consider her feelings.
It was not easy. Since they couldn’t escape each other, and he wouldn’t let go, she might as well try a new way of getting along.
“Madam, why is your face so red? Is the sun too strong?” Ada pulled out a bottle of sunscreen spray from her bag. “Want some?”
Li Yaru came back to herself and touched her face. “Really red?”
Ada smiled warmly. “Yes, like a red apple.” She winked boldly. “Thinking of someone? Could it be Mr. Zhuang? You’ve been in close contact lately.”
Li Yaru squinted and reached out to tickle Ada’s laughing spot on her waist. “How old are you, daring to joke with me? Next time I’ll take Little Liang on these fun trips, not you.”
Ada was so ticklish she could barely breathe, apologized repeatedly, and dared not be cheeky again.
She hadn’t had a public-funded vacation with Madam for a long time. Fortunately, she was eloquent.
Liang Sijie couldn’t compete for favor and could only obediently stay in Hong Kong Island managing the residence.
“We’re landing soon, Madam. I’ll go pack,” Ada said and hurried off.
This time in Rome was well-prepared. Li Yaru had chartered a Taiwanese Gulfstream G450 private jet specifically for this trip.
The plane landed on the private apron, the cabin door opened, and strong sunlight poured in.
A sweet stewardess greeted Li Yaru in Cantonese, wishing her a pleasant vacation.
Li Yaru stretched lazily, about to put away her phone when two WhatsApp messages arrived.
One was from Zhuang Qiting. Since he became her bed partner, she had removed him from the blacklist and even changed his contact name from ex-husband to [Big Man].
Li Yaru didn’t really understand why he insisted on calling himself Big Man, but since he liked it, she indulged him.
Big Man: [Ah Rou, landed yet? I sent a car to pick you up. Wish you a pleasant trip in Rome. I’ll come over once I finish work.]
Li Yaru: [You’re coming?]
He replied quickly: [Yes.]
Li Yaru typed quickly: [I don’t need any service right now!!]
Zhuang Qiting was attending the government forum, finally had a break to check on Li Yaru, but was harshly rejected. He was quite annoyed.
“What, a little vixen plays with you and you just forget about me?”
[I’m here on business in Europe, but I’m also here to take care of you. The schedule’s tight; even if you need service, I won’t have time.]
The man sounded serious, making Li Yaru seem improper.
She pouted: [Sure, sure. I just got off the plane. Talk later.]
Descending the stairs, two black Mercedes slowly pulled up and stopped right in front of her.
The man in the backseat turned his head slightly, watching Li Yaru step out of the plane, her bright red stilettos pressing the Roman ground with elegant charm.
Just like that painting—no, even more vivid. Her little nephew hadn’t lied.
The woman wasn’t imaginary; she was real, existing in this world. A beautiful woman from the East.
The man lifted his index finger to adjust his gold-rimmed glasses, without hesitation opened the car door, and approached Li Yaru with calm steps. Polite and gentlemanly, he asked, “Are you Miss Eleanor?”
Li Yaru’s eyes behind her sunglasses carefully examined the suddenly appeared… handsome man.
Dressed in a suit, exuding ease, his gold-rimmed glasses adding to his refined aura—a typical Western gentleman with an indescribable noble temperament.
Was this really someone sent by Zhuang Qiting? Did Zhuang Qiting send her a handsome man?
“You’re not sent by Zhuang Qiting,” Li Yaru said, lowering her sunglasses with a smile, stepping back. She didn’t get into strangers’ cars.
“Don’t worry, Miss Eleanor, I’m not a bad person.” The man sensed her caution but smiled politely. “My name is Lorenzo. I’m Kurt’s uncle. He couldn’t find time, so he asked me to pick you up.”
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