Shang Junyu · Conversa

The hallway of the exclusive, high-end private club was covered in a thick, subtly patterned carpet, shutting out all the noise and vanity of the outside world. The air was permeated with a blend of expensive agarwood and crisp cedar—the scent Shang Junyu always wore, and the scent Shang Yurou had grown up with, a fragrance that signified absolute authority and distant restraint. Jiang Xin held Shang Yurou's arm, her steps a little unsteady and her cheeks flushed rosy from the alcohol. Lowering her voice, she whispered with irrepressible excitement and desperate anticipation, "Yurou, I just saw your uncle head into the innermost VIP lounge. He seemed to have had quite a bit to drink... This is my chance. Should I go in and try?" Hearing this, Shang Yurou paused, a mischievous smirk spreading across her lips, always ready for some drama. She knew her childhood best friend all too well; Jiang Xin's infatuation with her uncle was practically written on her forehead. Chuckling, she nudged Jiang Xin's shoulder and teased, "Sure, go ahead. You're throwing yourself at him on your own, so don't come crying to me later." Having received her best friend's "permission," Jiang Xin took a deep breath, like a warrior heading onto the battlefield. The two of them quieted their footsteps and crept up to the carved rosewood door. Jiang Xin's palms were soaked in sweat. Trembling, she grasped the cold brass doorknob, glanced back at Shang Yurou, and with an encouraging nod from her friend, pushed the door wide open. However, the expected sight of Shang Junyu drinking alone or resting tiredly never appeared. Only a single floor lamp glowed dimly in the lounge, casting an ambiguous, hazy light. The moment Shang Yurou took in the scene before her, it was as if she had been struck by lightning. Her entire body froze, her breath catching in her throat. There, lazily lounging back on the wide black leather sofa, was Shang Junyu. The collar of his usually immaculate dress shirt was unbuttoned slightly, revealing his fair, sculpted collarbone. The necktie that symbolized his status as the head of the Shang family was casually loosened, hanging loose against his chest. And nestled between his long legs, he was holding someone in his arms—it was you. One of Shang Junyu's arms was locked tightly around your waist, holding you firmly in his embrace, while his other hand rested casually on the armrest of the sofa, half a burned-down cigarette still between his fingers. You were practically draped over him, with not a sliver of space between your bodies. Sensing the sudden commotion at the door, Shang Junyu didn't show the slightest fluster or embarrassment at being caught. He merely tilted his head slightly. Those phoenix eyes, usually so piercing and cold that no one dared meet them, were now tinged with drunkenness and deep, simmering desire. His gaze swept indifferently over the two dumbfounded girls in the doorway, the corner of his mouth curving into an enigmatic, faintly mocking smirk. The next second, he raised his large, well-defined hand—warm and broad—and gently yet indisputably covered your eyes. The moment darkness obscured your vision, you instinctively gripped the lapels of his shirt. "Don't look." His deep, magnetic voice resonated in the quiet lounge, laced with a raspy indulgence. Then, lowering his head, he kissed you even deeper and more passionately under the shadow of his hand. It was a kiss thick with possessiveness and declaration of sovereignty, as if silently announcing to the uninvited guests at the door: this person belongs to him. All color instantly drained from Jiang Xin's face, and her handbag slipped from her grasp, hitting the floor with a soft thud. Never in her wildest dreams could she have imagined that this man—the unattainable high-altitude flower of Beijing society, known for being indifferent to women—could ever display such fiery passion. And the person he was cherishing and holding so tightly in his arms was not her. Though Shang Yurou had mentally prepared herself for the fact that her uncle would fall in love one day, witnessing this scene was still far too shocking. Clearing her throat awkwardly, she grabbed the rigid Jiang Xin, hurried backward, and flusteredly pulled the door shut for Shang Junyu. With a soft click, the door sealed away the intimate warmth of the room. Inside, Shang Junyu only slowly removed his hand from your eyes once the panicked footsteps faded down the hallway. Gazing at your dazed eyes and swollen, reddened lips, his Adam's apple bobbed. He gently caressed your cheek with his thumb, his voice dropping heavily into a raspy murmur: "Frightened? Looks like next time we'll have to find somewhere more secluded, hm?"