Chapter Two Hundred Seventy-One: The Princess Drenched in Rain and the Bard with an Umbrella
During the halfway mark of the banquet, Hua Jianglian had completely turned into a little pig in her sleep.
Sang Zhe took the chance to leave the table and escorted Hua Jianglian back to her room to sleep.
He refreshed himself with a splash of water and then turned to head towards Gongzi Shuiming’s room.
…The opportunity for a lonely man and a woman to share a room had arrived.
Sang Zhe wasn’t even sure how effective his torment tactics had been.
But if things went smoothly, he might soon witness her pleading with him not to squeeze out more writing from her.
Just thinking about the charming and sexy Shuiming, with her sweetly flushed face, tugging at his sleeve and softly begging him stirred excitement within Sang Zhe.
Heh heh.
At that point, he’d ruthlessly reject her, making her work twenty-four hours a day without food or water, just cranking out words… heh heh heh.
With those delightful fantasies in mind, Sang Zhe straightened his clothes and gently knocked on Shuiming’s door.
However, the moment he entered, Sang Zhe was taken aback.
The candlelight inside was vaguely romantic, the air scented sweetly with incense, and the red curtains hinted at something intimate.
Gongzi Shuiming was sitting at her vanity, seeming to apply some lip color.
Her hair was elegantly pinned up, revealing a smooth neck, and her light, delicate nightgown clung to her curves, showcasing her voluptuous figure without reserve.
Her fair face blushed like a ripe peach, and her luscious lips looked good enough to bite.
“Young Master Sang has arrived.”
Shuiming pretended to be nonchalant as she continued applying, “What do you think about this lip color? Is it pretty?”
“Uh… it, it looks okay?”
Sang Zhe swallowed hard.
Wait a minute.
Is this woman trying to seduce me?
Does she think offering her body as hush money will make me let her off the hook and stop her from being exploited every day?
Hmph, dream on! I, Sang Zhe, am not the type to easily fall for feminine charms.
“Miss Shuiming, since it’s just the two of us here, let me speak plainly.”
Sang Zhe gave a cold grin and intentionally put on a fierce expression: “No matter what crooked ideas you have, our deal cannot change.”
“You still have to obediently write for me every day—ten updates a day, twenty thousand words daily, and you can’t stop until I’ve had my fill, no matter how tired or unwilling you are—”
“That’s not it,” Shuiming suddenly shook her head.
“As you said, Young Master Sang, writing a story can be quite exhausting. Sometimes, I feel drained and frustrated too.”
“But ever since I started writing for you, I hardly feel tired anymore.”
“…I really enjoy writing novels for you,” she suddenly said, her face slightly flushed as she whispered.
Sang Zhe: “…Huh?”
Um, why does it feel like this script is going differently than I imagined?
“You, are you mistaken? Twenty thousand words a day! That’s like four to five hours without eating or drinking, plus brainstorming the plot! Almost a whole day with nothing else to do.”
“And even then, you don’t feel tired and annoyed?”
“Originally, I should have,” Shuiming smiled gently, “but just the thought that Young Master Sang would like it makes it all okay.”
That’s okay?
Are you a masochist? Excited by being forced to work overtime and exploit your remaining value?
Sang Zhe looked at Shuiming like she was a monster, and after a long pause, he managed to speak, “Then, why did you call me here?”
“Nothing much.”
Shuiming’s gaze suddenly fluttered: “I just… wanted to spend some time alone with you.”
What is this?
A lonely man and woman sharing a room, doesn’t this seem a bit inappropriate?
If this gets out, how do I explain this? I can’t just say we’ve been playing cards all night, can I?
“Young Master Sang, would you like to try this?”
Suddenly, Gongzi Shuiming pulled something out and waved it towards Sang Zhe.
It was a pair of headphones.
Sang Zhe was surprised; Bai Ming actually made something like this.
Seeing Shuiming beckoning him over, Sang Zhe hesitated for a moment but chose to obediently sit beside her.
Gongzi Shuiming handed him one earphone.
She wore the other one herself.
The atmosphere in the room instantly became serene, with only the soft and gentle music flowing through the headphones.
Sang Zhe had never heard this song before but found it inexplicably pleasant; the style was also different from the music of this world.
The two sat quietly, the only connection between them being the headphone wire.
“I didn’t expect Bai Ming to come up with something like this,” Sang Zhe remarked softly.
“Do you like it, Young Master Sang?”
“…Quite like it.”
“That’s good.” Shuiming blinked her beautiful eyes and slowly withdrew her gaze.
Neither of them spoke anymore.
As if opening their mouths would ruin the atmosphere.
At some point, Sang Zhe felt a gentle touch next to him. Shuiming seemed to have leaned closer, and her delicate hand brushed against his.
After a while, he felt a heavy weight on his shoulder.
The fragrance from Shuiming was a carefully chosen perfume—exquisite and pleasant, perfectly matching Sang Zhe’s impression of her.
Leaning on his shoulder, her hair’s scent was rich and refreshing; with a slight shift, he could almost see the delicate curve at her neckline.
Sang Zhe swallowed hard, forcing himself not to look at what would be very impolite.
“Speaking of which,”
suddenly Shuiming’s voice rang softly in his ear, “do you remember that story, ‘The Princess and the Forbidden Trials’?”
“I remember. You seemed quite fond of that story.”
“Yes,” Gongzi Shuiming mused, “that was the story I was most satisfied with writing myself.”
Sang Zhe thought for a moment and said, “But if we’re talking about reality, the princess’s actions seem a bit too lovesick and willful.”
“Exactly.”
Shuiming laughed again: “So all of this can only be a fantasy in the princess’s mind.”
In reality, a princess wouldn’t simply take her own life just because the person she loved didn’t love her back.
She remains wealthy, owning her career and life—romance isn’t the only thing in her existence.
But just because romance isn’t everything doesn’t mean a heartbreak won’t hurt.
She is still the leader of the Floating Splendor Commerce, overseeing countless lives and destinies.
So she has to forcibly suppress those emotions, deceiving herself into thinking everything is fine.
Or perhaps, she could only release those emotions in stories.
“But actually, for the princess, she doesn’t really need to die.”
“If the feelings she lets out in stories just happened to catch someone’s attention.”
At just the moment when she was soaked to the skin from the rain, feeling the lowest.
Someone passing by noticed her and held an umbrella over her.
Then perhaps.
“Perhaps, the princess would finally meet that bard who saves her.” She gently leaned against Sang Zhe’s shoulder and smiled.
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