How Can a Dead Fish Move?

Unlike his impatience with Xing Shu, Cheng Xingyang suddenly became very tender. “Linlin, you’re awake? It’s raining heavily outside. Don’t go out today, okay? What? You have a fever. Is it serious?” His tone changed from joy to worry, and finally to panic.

Xing Shu leaned against the front passenger seat, playing with her hair. She did not ask further. After hanging up the phone, Cheng Xingyang honked twice. When he saw that the car was still stationary, he punched the steering wheel twice in anger. Xing Shu viewed his reaction with mirth. Earlier at the apartment—if he had just gone upstairs to take a look, he would have discovered her tryst with another man. However, Cheng Xingyang was not interested in her, and would not go to her apartment. Xing Shu smiled at the thought of his reaction when he found out.

Cheng Xingyang extracted his car keys in frustration and rushed into the storm without even taking his umbrella.

“We’re not going to the banquet?” Xing Shu called out after Cheng Xingyang’s departing figure.

“Linlin is sick. I’m going to take a look. She’s your good friend after all,” Cheng Xingyang replied.

“Indeed, you should take good care of my good friend.” Xing Shu’s eyes brimmed with sarcasm.

Cheng Xingyang stopped in his tracks, before quickly disappearing into the rain. Xing Shu sighed and looked at the rain outside. She turned her head and realized that the a*shole Cheng Xingyang had taken the car keys with him. She frowned. Unbeknownst to her, the traffic jam ahead had cleared at some point in time—her car was the only one left, blocking the way. It soon attracted a stream of invective.

While trying to find an umbrella to exit the car, she saw several used condoms in the gap between the seat and center console. Her face darkened, and her stomach churned with disgust. She opened the storage box and saw the limited edition lipstick—the gift she had given Xing Linlin previously. There were only 20 of them in the world, so the odds of coincidence were very low.

Xing Shu sneered. She did not give a hoot about Xing Linlin’s blatant provocation. Unable to find an umbrella, she exited the car in the heavy rain and was immediately drenched. She stood in the dark—soaked to the bone—and watched the traffic police tow the car away.

Wiping the rain off her face, Xing Shu intended to try her luck at hailing a cab at the sidewalk. Just as she walked over, she saw a black Bentley slowly stop in front of her. Not only was the Bentley’s license plate conspicuous, but there was also a small flag beside it—an authorization to enter and exit any place unimpeded, even if it were a restricted military area.

Xing Shu raised her eyebrows and smiled. She opened the car door and got in. “Young Uncle, what a coincidence.”

Cheng Lang gave Xing Shu a glance before looking away, fingertips casually fiddling with the Buddhist bracelet on his wrist. “My nephew doesn’t want you anymore?” He went for the jugular at the first chance he got.

Xing Shu blew a raspberry.

What “Buddha on Earth”? He was a demon—every sentence was meant to twist the knife!

“Young Uncle, I serviced you well in bed last night, didn’t I? Why are you so frosty once we leave the bed?” Xing Shu smiled subserviently, putting her seductive eyes to work. Her face showed no sign of embarrassment or shame at being abandoned.

Jian Yaochuan—in the front seat—silently rolled up the partition divider, not daring to listen to the conversation behind him.

“Serviced me well?” Cheng Lang repeated these words as he dusted a glance at Xing Shu. “You’re like a dead fish. You only know how to scream and don’t know how to move. What’s so good about you?”

Xing Shu gritted her teeth and faked a smile. “That’s really hard on you, Young Uncle. You had to romp a dead fish for so long. Your vigor in bed makes people think that you’ve never seen a woman in your life.” She retorted sarcastically. Her lips were pursed tightly, casting a pitiful look.

Xing Shu was about to get out of the car when she was yanked back. Cheng Lang’s fingertips gripped her wrist, locking her. He looked up and said to the front, “Go back to Manor No. 1.”

Manor No. 1 was where Cheng Lang lived. He did not seem to plan on attending the banquet held in his honor. Xing Shu was confounded. She was not keen to go to the Cheng family in such a sorry state anyway; she would only be bullied or mistreated if she went. She leaned into Cheng Lang’s arms languidly.

Cheng Lang lowered his head and looked at her with smoldering eyes. “Not leaving anymore?”

Xing Shu said, “Young Uncle, how can a dead fish move?”

Cheng Lang: “…”

Xing Shu finally won a round. She leaned into Cheng Lang’s arms gleefully, not caring if her wet sweater would dirty his suit.