The Maybach glided smoothly through the bright spring streets of Rome, the luxurious citrus-scented fragrance filling the air, making Li Yaru feel quite delighted.
She crossed her legs, the red high heels swaying slightly, and looked out the window in a cheerful mood.
“Miss Eleanor, is this your first time in Rome?”
Li Yaru withdrew her gaze and looked at the man sitting beside her in the back seat. “Counting it up, it’s my fourth time.”
Lorenzo raised his brows in surprise and chuckled, “Kurt thought it was your first time, so he specifically told me to take you around some nearby sights. Seems like those old, tired places wouldn’t interest you much.”
Li Yaru curved her red lips. “They’re alright, but I’m not really keen on places like the Colosseum or the Pantheon. Too crowded and tiring on the feet.”
Lorenzo nodded, “I’ll arrange something special then. Hopefully, Miss Eleanor can experience a different side of Rome.”
“That’s very kind of you. But honestly, there’s no need for any special arrangements. I’m fine just wandering around by myself. Kurt definitely needs the help, I won’t be any trouble,” Li Yaru said with a gentle shake of her head.
Kurt had been overly enthusiastic—booking a luxury hotel and sending someone to pick her up, making such a big fuss that she felt like she was just freeloading in Rome.
Li Yaru thought she’d have to buy more paintings to make up for it.
Lorenzo noticed the frown forming on Li Yaru’s face as she pondered, and a ripple stirred behind his calm eyes.
He smiled and spoke—not in English this time, but in Chinese with a slight foreign accent, still clear and proper, “I remember a Chinese saying, ‘Isn’t it a joy to have friends coming from afar?’. Miss Eleanor, you don’t need to be so polite.”
Li Yaru looked at him in surprise, her clear beautiful eyes widening slightly. “You actually speak Chinese? And you know Confucius?”
These days, there were plenty of foreigners who knew Chinese—couldn’t she just curse anyone she passed by in the streets?
Lorenzo laughed aloud, “Some of our business is in China, so I took Chinese as an elective in school. I know a few phrases, though my speaking isn’t very good. Please don’t laugh at me.”
The atmosphere lightened considerably with his somewhat clumsy Chinese, and the two chatted casually as they made their way, the topics simple and superficial.
The Maybach soon arrived at the Grand Hotel, located right in the bustling Augusto Imperial Plaza in the city center.
There were many sights nearby. Lorenzo stepped out first, circled around the car, and gallantly opened the door for Li Yaru.
Lorenzo arranged rooms for Li Yaru and her party, handed her some materials about Kurt’s exhibition, then excused himself, saying to call if she needed anything, maintaining his impeccable gentlemanly composure.
After he left, Li Yaru yawned—it was a bit early to be sleepy, just 8 a.m., with the sun shining brightly.
She had been watching horror movies with Ada on the plane, which left her energized and wide awake, but now the drowsiness finally caught up with her.
She kicked off her high heels and collapsed onto the bed, closing her eyes for a few minutes before the phone vibrated.
She hated being disturbed while sleeping. Grabbing the phone, she saw it was Zhuang Qiting. Connecting the call, she snapped, “What is it?”
Zhuang Qiting furrowed his brow. “Kid, I haven’t done anything to you. Can you be a little nicer?”
“Old man, how can I be nice when you’re disturbing my sleep?” Li Yaru mumbled sleepily, her tone soft and drowsy.
For a moment, Zhuang Qiting’s heart softened at the image of her annoyed face after being woken.
A faint smile lifted his lips as his voice turned gentle. “Are you at the hotel? The people I sent say they didn’t pick you up, so I wanted to check.”
“Kurt’s uncle came to pick me up…” Li Yaru was too sleepy to continue, eyes closed, phone set aside.
“His uncle?” Zhuang Qiting narrowed his eyes, his expression like a fierce great white shark in the deep sea, able to detect the faintest hint of blood diluted in a hundred thousand liters of water.
“A man. How old?”
Li Yaru’s charm had tested him for half a lifetime. From age sixty to eighteen, he had been under her influence. This kid never gave him a moment’s peace.
“Why are you asking about the uncle’s age… anyway, younger than you… I’m going back to sleep… talk in the afternoon… bye.”
“Ah Rou—”
Click. The phone hung up. Zhuang Qiting sighed, lighting a cigarette. His long fingers holding the thin black smoke trembled slightly—he had a good feeling about this.
He would never allow some sly dog, cunning fox, or sly duck to insert themselves between him and Li Yaru.
It had taken so much effort to secure the peaceful situation they had now. With remarriage only a few steps away, he couldn’t afford to let his guard down.
………
Li Yaru slept soundly through the day. Ada almost thought she had died, knocking on the door several times during the afternoon.
Only in the evening did Li Yaru finally wake, asking Ada to accompany her to the hotel’s flagship restaurant for dinner.
Ada said, “Madam, Lorenzo actually reserved dinner last night, but since you didn’t get up, Rui and a few others went without you. The restaurant is like a palace, looks extremely expensive, and the portions are small—just a few bites per dish. Rui still wasn’t full.”
Rui was a sturdy Northeastern Man, a retired member of the Counter-Terrorism Special Forces.
Li Yaru raised an eyebrow, twirling a strand of rich Italian pasta with a delicate silver fork. “Really? I’ll have to talk to him tomorrow. I’m never watching horror movies again—scared the life out of me.”
Ada laughed, “You’re just stubborn about watching horror movies, then you can’t sleep at night.”
“Stop talking nonsense. Why do you always ask, ‘Are you secretly taking money from him?’”
Li Yaru sneered, “Keep boasting then. When I don’t need you anymore, you can go follow Zhuang Qiting around.”
“Never! I’ll never say that again!” Ada shuddered at the thought of being stuck with the circle of secretaries around Zhuang Qiting.
They were iron men with both physical and psychological toughness. Although their salary was three times hers, she still needed to be alive to earn it.
“Good that you know.”
Li Yaru ate her pasta, occasionally glancing sideways through the glass window at the quiet Ruins of Augustus in the distance. Even in ruins, the grandeur and divine aura were unmistakable.
The next day was the opening of Kurt’s exhibition.
At half past eight in the morning, Lorenzo arrived punctually at the hotel, accompanying Li Yaru to have a light Chinese breakfast before heading to the Royal Academy of Fine Arts.
“Sorry for sleeping all day yesterday. Didn’t know you had booked dinner,” Li Yaru apologized.
Lorenzo was dressed formally today, unlike his casual suit from the previous day. He wore an elegant gray three-piece suit, neatly pressed, with a brooch pinned on his chest that resembled an ancient eagle.
The man smiled gently at her, his deep Western eyes filled with natural affection, “It’s alright, Eleanor, it was just a dinner. Don’t worry about it.”
Li Yaru couldn’t tell why, but she sensed something hidden behind those amber eyes—a natural depth of feeling that felt like a delicate web, as if she were prey about to be caught.
She couldn’t confirm her intuition—women’s instincts often surprised in matters of romance. At her age and with her experience, what could she truly understand? What could she truly guess?
Italian men were famously flirtatious, able to sweet-talk any beauty they met on the street.
She suddenly smiled, turning lazily to look out the window.
A twenty-eight-year-old man, a mere junior, dared to treat her as prey? She came to Rome to relax, one Zhuang Qiting was enough trouble for her to handle—no time to entertain foreign flirtations.
“Eleanor, what are you smiling at?” Lorenzo was troubled by her ambiguous expression. At twenty-eight, how could he be so unsettled by a woman younger than him?
Li Yaru: “Did Kurt tell you how old I am?”
Lorenzo was confused by the sudden question, but answered, “He said you’re two years older than him.”
Li Yaru burst out laughing, her slender fingers helplessly pressing against her forehead. She simply had no solution for Kurt, that silly boy.
She had to find a chance to introduce Kurt to Ming—they were cut from the same cloth.
“Is that so?”
Li Yaru shook her head, then suddenly looked at the young man beside her with a different gaze. Her clear, enchanting eyes took on a sharp edge.
She stared meaningfully, her tone as relaxed as ever but with a smile, “Lorenzo, I’m forty-four this year, but not the young girl you think I am.”
Lorenzo was caught off guard by that sentence, stunned for a moment before laughing softly, “Don’t joke. You don’t look forty-four.”
The woman before him showed no trace of aging—the firmness of her limbs, the fullness of her skin, and the clarity of her eyes.
Even her silver-blue, exquisite long dress looked anything but old-fashioned. The only off note was the maturity and nobility occasionally emanating from her aura—impossible to decipher.