The day they returned to Hong Kong Island, the temperature in Rome had soared, the sun blazing down relentlessly.
Li Yaru, annoyed by the clingy shadow she couldn’t shake off, strode quickly up the plane’s boarding stairs. Her two slender, fair legs flashed past, and she disappeared into the cabin.
Ada and Young Master Rui exchanged glances, neither daring to ask nor say a word.
Zhuang Qiting followed Li Yaru calmly. Because of the heat, he had shed his three-piece suit, wearing a crisp off-white short-sleeved shirt and light-colored jeans.
Oversized sunglasses perched on his sharp nose made him, even from a distance, look like a man in his twenties or thirties—tall, handsome, and effortlessly suave.
Inside the cabin, Li Yaru had already settled into one of the airline’s plush seats. Her high heels were kicked off askew, and she held an entertainment magazine in her hand.
Seeing Zhuang Qiting ambling over leisurely, she rolled her eyes and curled the magazine into a long tube. Just as the man approached, she suddenly swung it, aiming straight for his crotch.
Fortunately, Zhuang Qiting’s reflexes were quick. He caught Li Yaru’s wrist with one hand, amused yet mock-angry. “Even more violent than when you were younger? You little thing, if anyone’s going to get hurt, it’s you.”
Li Yaru shot him a sideways glare, then glanced at his lower half with a faint smirk. “I don’t care. Stop sexually harassing me.”
“Wasn’t it you who sexually harassed me first?” the man chuckled. “Who else throws stuff at a man’s crotch like you? Touching is okay, but hitting isn’t.”
“Shut up. Stop talking nonsense. Can you not blame me? I’d rather have this plane fly back to Hong Kong empty than believe you’re just a rich guy with nowhere to spend your money who won’t donate to the Africa Animal Protection Association.” Li Yaru was too tired to bother with him—he got more worked up the dirtier the conversation.
“This little plane I rented can’t carry a big Buddha like you,” Zhuang Qiting said.
He then sat down on the airline seat opposite Li Yaru, crossing his legs casually. His smile was gentle as he looked at the woman across from him. “Without you, my money really has nowhere to go. Manager Wen even teased me that my cash flow these past six months is the lowest it’s been in twenty-five years.”
Li Yaru could clearly hear the teasing in his tone. Gritting her teeth, she lifted her foot and kicked his calf. “Shut up! I don’t have time to spend your money now. Keep it for yourself.”
Zhuang Qiting’s expression flickered, his eyes darkening slightly. He said nothing but turned his head toward the window.
The plane was already taxiing down the runway, waiting for the final takeoff toward the blue sky.
Li Yaru flipped through a few pages of her magazine. Seeing the man silent, she looked up curiously.
Zhuang Qiting tilted his head, his sharp features illuminated crisply by the sunlight. He was well-maintained, his sturdy bone structure defying age.
His firm face only bore a few subtle wrinkles, radiating the charm of a mature man.
She had looked at this face for decades and was still not tired of it. Even though he was no longer young.
“Hey… what’s wrong again?” Li Yaru poked him with the tip of her shoe.
Zhuang Qiting turned toward her with a smile. “What do you mean, what’s wrong?”
“Don’t make that sulky husband face. I didn’t bully you.” Li Yaru felt inexplicably annoyed by this version of Zhuang Qiting.
He leaned down, gently patting her knee with his palm, his voice full of indulgence, as if she was beyond his control. “Don’t always call me old, Arou. You know I’m scared too.”
Li Yaru paused, recalling that night on the sea, his sincere confession on the yacht. He had peeled away his toughest exterior to reveal his softness and fears.
Her heart softened. She bit her lip, then with a hint of childish grievance said, “Okay, okay, I won’t call you old anymore, and I don’t really think you are… don’t take it so seriously.”
Zhuang Qiting smiled. “Then I’ll take it as foreplay.”
Although he said that, deep down the man was cautious. Later that night, he held Li Yaru in the lounge, moving her up and down silently displaying that he was in his prime.
At that moment, the plane hit a patch of turbulence, jolting sharply. Li Yaru cried out, wrapping her arms tightly around Zhuang Qiting’s neck.
“Don’t be afraid, it’s just turbulence.” Zhuang Qiting comforted her, kissing her cheek. His strong back pressed against the wall as his arms firmly supported her. She was sitting in his hands, hanging onto him.
Li Yaru curled her toes restlessly. The fullness inside her made words impossible.
Especially in the air, the turbulence gave her a weightless sensation, all her support came from Zhuang Qiting—pressed tightly in an indescribable place.
Suddenly the plane shook again.
“Ah—put me down—” she couldn’t take it anymore, feeling as if her soul was being crushed. Her fingers clawed wildly at Zhuang Qiting’s back.
“Not now, it’s dangerous, baby. Hold on.” Zhuang Qiting narrowed his eyes, cruelly riding the turbulence, making the chaotic atmosphere more turbulent, vibrating.
He didn’t stop, leisurely savoring the moment until Li Yaru got angry and bit his ear. Only then did he smile, turn his head, and kiss her lips.
The kiss was gentle but the breath and movements were dangerous and fierce.
“Baby… done.” He rolled his throat, deeply kissing Li Yaru’s lips and teeth.
The man’s strong hips became as rigid as wood, his muscular legs braced firmly. Afterwards, he embraced her, and they collapsed onto the soft bed together.
Just now, Zhuang Qiting wouldn’t let her run, capturing her chin buried in the blanket, demanding her expression.
She couldn’t stand that he wouldn’t pull away, insisting on clinging to her, so she had to close her eyes. “You… you’re just looking for trouble.”
Zhuang Qiting laughed. “Baby, don’t use that word to provoke me. I definitely won’t let you off.”
Afterwards, Zhuang Qiting cleaned her up, drying her, applying moisturizer. Her soft, fair body was like shining silk, carefully placed under the covers.
After taking care of her, he quickly showered, brushed his teeth, shaved off the stubble, and only then returned to bed and turned off the lights.
In the darkness, his breathing was even, probably not sleepy. Held tightly in Zhuang Qiting’s arms, Li Yaru perhaps still felt the warmth of home, or maybe it was Kazakhstan.
She recalled the past ten days in Rome; her mind was filled only with images of being with Zhuang Qiting.
Their quarrels, confessions, tenderness, romantic runs on the streets, hand-in-hand under the night sky, and the eternal Diamond Rose safely lying in her bag.
Kurt, Lor, distant and submerged in the sands of her memory.
Li Yaru quietly exhaled in the dark.
Incredible, she actually felt as if she were in love with Zhuang Qiting.
.
Because of the mistress’s return, the previously quiet Li Residence came back to life.
The entire household had received the gifts Li Yaru brought from Rome, and everyone was overjoyed.
Liang Sijie also received a gift—a pair of Buccellati earrings.
“You gave me earrings?” Liang Sijie stared in disbelief at the piece inside the velvet box.
The delicate golden earrings were set with four diamonds, like little stars.
Li Yaru smiled. “You have pierced ears, even though I’ve never seen you wear anything.”
Liang Sijie’s hand touched his earlobe. “Yeah… I used to have pierced ears. Thank you, Madam. I will treasure them.”
“How was everything at the residence while I was gone?” Li Yaru flipped through a thick stack of invitation letters recently sent to the residence, all kinds of events.
“Everything was fine. Madam Zheng rented the venue twice for art salons. Li Guanjia from the Zhuang Residence came over a few times to deliver things. All your jewelry has been stored safely in the collection room—you can check them yourself if you want.”
“No need to check, I trust you,” Li Yaru said warmly.
The Madam trusted him. After more than half a year together, an inexplicable, mysterious trust had quietly formed between them.
Liang Sijie looked at the mistress gently, recalling many years ago.
During his years living in Osaka, he and his mother lived like dogs in that gloomy Osaka Villa.
Everyone could bully him and cruelly mock him as a mixed-blood dog—Chinese, Japanese, and German.
When he was sixteen, during the Yamazaki Family’s centennial anniversary banquet, attended by top elites worldwide, his cousin locked him in the dog house tucked in a corner of the back garden.
His clean, neat kimono was splattered with leftovers from the previous day, emitting a foul smell.
He sat dazed inside the dog house, staring through the narrow hole at the brightly lit rooms in the distance, filled with glamorous guests sipping champagne, chatting elegantly.
Geishas performed fan dances in front of golden screens, their melodies filling the air.
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