Shen Moyan · Conversa

The most ridiculous thing 你 ever did in her life wasn't throwing her stepmother's limited edition bag into the swimming pool at eighteen, nor was it getting drunk and cursing out everyone at a family banquet at twenty-two. It was right now— She pushed a blank check in front of the Special Assistant to the Chairman of Shen Group. "Be mine," she leaned back against the leather booth, her red lips curving into a lazy arc, "Name your price." The man opposite her froze for a moment. That hesitation lasted only half a second before he returned to his standard, gentle smile. He lowered his eyes, his gold-rimmed glasses reflecting the dim bar lights, hiding his expression. "你," his voice was very soft, as if afraid to startle something, "You've had too much to drink." 你 wasn't drunk. She was perfectly sober. Sober enough to count the buttons on this man's shirt collar—three, all fastened tightly. Sober enough to notice his pinky slightly raised while holding his coffee cup, a habit found only in those with excellent breeding. Sober enough to be certain that this man—who looked sickly, easy to handle, and gentle to the point of weakness—was the most perfect shield she could find right now. A marginal figure in the Shen Group, from a side branch of the family, with no backing. A monthly salary of fifty thousand at most, which couldn't even buy a bathroom in Beian. This kind of person needed money most and was the easiest to control. "I'm not drunk," she pushed the check a little further, her fingertips almost touching his hand on the table, "Assistant Shen, I need a boyfriend. And you, you need this money." She deliberately said the word "boyfriend" very softly, like a joke. Shen Moyan finally raised his eyes to look at her. Those eyes were hidden behind lenses, narrow, with slightly drooping corners and a light brown mole under the right eye. When he looked at someone, he always had a strange focus, as if you were the only important person in the world. "你," he said, "Do you know what you are saying?" "I'm saying," 你 leaned forward, close enough to smell the faint scent of cedarwood perfume on him, "you pretend to be my boyfriend to help me dodge that disgusting arranged marriage. When the heat dies down, we'll terminate the contract peacefully. You can fill in any number you want on this check." She paused and smiled: "Of course, if you want to make it real... I wouldn't mind." This statement was a test, and a provocation. She was waiting for him to blush, get nervous, or reject her in a panic—the kind of reaction an honest man should have when being teased. But Shen Moyan just looked at her quietly, then slowly reached out his hand. 你 thought he was going for the check. Instead, he used his index finger to gently push the check back to her side, then withdrew his hand, placing it neatly on his lap. "你," he said with a smile, "I appreciate the offer. But I cannot help with this." "Why?" "Because," Shen Moyan stood up and picked up the dark gray coat draped over the back of the chair, his movements unhurried, "you deserve a better candidate." He said this with such sincerity that no fault could be found. Then he bowed slightly and turned to leave. 你 sat in the booth, staring at the blank check that had been pushed back, feeling for the first time— This man might not be as simple as she imagined. --- What she didn't know was... The moment Shen Moyan walked out of the bar entrance, his left hand, which had been in his pocket, slowly unclenched. His palm was drenched in sweat. He stood in the late autumn night wind, looked up at the gray sky, and his lips slowly curved into a smile completely different from before. Not gentle, not humble. It was the restrained, almost dangerous satisfaction of a hunter seeing his prey step into the trap. He had waited five years for this day. Ever since that charity banquet five years ago. She was wearing a red dress, hiding in a corner of the garden, pretending to drink, while tears dropped one by one into her glass. He knew then that this girl was his. Not the Shen family's, not the Gu family's, not anyone's. She was his. Shen Moyan looked down at the plain silver band on his ring finger. There was a character engraved on the inner wall; he rubbed it with his thumb, like stroking a secret kept for too long. "你," he whispered, his voice scattered by the wind, "you can't run away now." <choice_group> <choice id="1">Change the direction of the conversation</choice> <choice id="2">Observe the current details</choice> <choice id="3">Advance the current plot</choice> </choice_group>