Chapter 72 p1
Shen Shu lay on the bed, her pale fingers just barely visible beneath the collar of her pajama top, the glimpse of her collarbone tantalizing.
Xu Jinnan sighed inwardly. Shen Shu had a way of rendering her completely helpless.
She sat down on the edge of the bed and opened the tube of ointment, when Shen Shu’s phone vibrated on the nightstand.
She paused, picking up the phone and handing it to Shen Shu.
It was a call from an unknown number.
Shen Shu glanced at the caller ID, then answered. She didn’t give out her number often.
She waited for the caller to speak.
“Hello?”
Hearing the voice, she instinctively looked at Xu Jinnan, who was examining the ointment, as if studying the ingredients.
Sensing her gaze, Xu Jinnan looked up.
“Ah Shu?” a hesitant voice asked. It was Xia Chun.
The rain had stopped, but the balcony windows were still closed, the apartment quiet, amplifying the sound of Xia Chun’s voice through the phone’s speaker.
“Is something the matter?” Shen Shu asked.
“Your voice… are you okay? I’ve been meaning to call… are you badly hurt? Can I… come visit you?”
Xu Jinnan calmly looked down, continuing to read the instructions on the ointment tube, as if she hadn’t heard.
Shen Shu also looked away, releasing her grip on her collar. “No, thank you,” she replied.
“I’m sorry,” Xia Chun said.
“It wasn’t your fault.”
“But I saw it happen. If I had been more alert, if I had checked on you, you wouldn’t have gone through that. I’m so stupid! I was so close!” A slight slurring in Xia Chun’s voice betrayed her distress. “Xia Chun…” Shen Shu began, her voice softening.
Just then, Xu Jinnan leaned closer, her cool fingers applying the ointment to the bruises on Shen Shu’s neck, the contrast in temperature making Shen Shu’s breath hitch.
Xu Jinnan didn’t speak, her gaze fixed on the marks on Shen Shu’s neck.
She examined them closely. The mark Cai Ying had mentioned, while resembling a love bite, wasn’t one she had made.
Xia Chun’s voice continued, seemingly oblivious to Shen Shu’s silence. “I’m always one step too late. When we broke up, I almost managed to change your mind. When you were attacked, I was almost there. When Xu Jinnan forced you into that marriage, I was almost there… and now…”
Shen Shu gasped softly, the ointment on her skin surprisingly sensitive, Xu Jinnan’s touch sending shivers down her spine.
Xu Jinnan’s finger gently traced the outline of Shen Shu’s collarbone, her touch cool and smooth against Shen Shu’s warm skin.
“Ah Shu?” Xia Chun asked, her voice sharp, finally sensing something amiss.
Shen Shu looked at Xu Jinnan, her heart pounding, unable to reply.
Their faces were inches apart, and she could see the subtle softness in Xu Jinnan’s eyes, despite her usual aloof demeanor.
She felt Xu Jinnan’s finger gently tug at her collar, her breath catching in her throat.
She mumbled a quick reply, then hung up, her gaze fixed on Xu Jinnan.
After a moment, Xu Jinnan, finished applying the ointment, looked up, a smile playing on her lips. “Why are you staring at me?”
“Teacher Xu, you did that on purpose, didn’t you?” Shen Shu asked, her voice soft.
“Did what on purpose? You asked me to apply the ointment,” Xu Jinnan replied innocently.
The ointment had a slightly greasy texture.
Xu Jinnan straightened up, wiping her hands with a tissue.
Shen Shu watched her for a moment, then looked away, a faint smile playing on her lips, her earlier drowsiness forgotten. She didn’t bother arguing.
“Let me see your elbow and knee,” she said.
Xu Jinnan, remembering the other injuries, had Shen Shu pull up her sleeve and pant leg, revealing more bruises.
After applying the ointment, Xu Jinnan placed the tube beside Shen Shu. “Shu Shu, you can do the rest yourself,” she murmured.
Shen Shu paused, understanding.
Her earlobes flushed slightly. “There’s no need,” she said softly. The bruises had been more noticeable when she woke up, but they had faded slightly, except for one, a little darker than the others.
She paused, then, before Xu Jinnan could reply, unbuttoned another button on her pajama top, pulling it down slightly to reveal the “X” tattoo on her collarbone, a small, dark red mark beside it, about the size of her pinky fingernail.
“Just here. The others are fine.”
Xu Jinnan: “…”
She stared at the tattoo, her fingers twitching. She squeezed some ointment onto her fingertip, then, as if casually asking, said, “Does that tattoo have any special meaning? It’s the same as your WeChat profile picture.”
“Teacher Xu.”
Xu Jinnan looked up.
Shen Shu didn’t answer her question, instead saying, “You’ve been wanting to ask about that for a while, haven’t you?”
Xu Jinnan: “…”
She had been curious ever since learning about Shen Shu and Xia Chun’s past relationship, but she hadn’t found the right opportunity to ask.
“Not really. I just… remembered to ask,” she said.
Shen Shu looked at her for a moment. “Really?”
Xu Jinnan, unable to meet her gaze, admitted, “It’s not Xia Chun’s initial, is it?”
Shen Shu paused, then chuckled softly. “Is that why you kept… biting it?”
Xu Jinnan: “…”
She didn’t reply, not wanting to revisit the memories of last night.
Shen Shu, her cheek resting on her bent arm, said, “It has nothing to do with Xia Chun.”
“Then what is it?”
“I’m not telling you.”
Xu Jinnan: “…”
Shen Shu, clearly enjoying her curiosity, her mood having lifted considerably, seemed determined to keep it a secret.
Xu Jinnan sighed inwardly. She couldn’t exactly force her to tell her.
If it wasn’t Xia Chun’s initial, then what did it mean?
Shen Shu didn’t take the herbal supplements, and Xu Jinnan didn’t press her, simply putting them away. “Alright, aren’t you tired? Go to sleep,” she said.
Shen Shu, seeing her stand up, asked, “What about you?”
“I still have some work to do. The company is waiting for my reply.”
“Oh.”
Xu Jinnan paused at the doorway, looking back. “I’ll be in later,” she said.
After a brief pause, and hearing Shen Shu’s “Okay,” she left the room.
—
The rain continued throughout the night, finally stopping just before dawn.
Xu Jinnan opened her eyes, squinting against the faint light filtering through the curtains.
She rubbed her eyes and heard Shen Shu shift beside her.
She turned slightly to see Shen Shu, facing her, fast asleep, her hand, warm and soft, resting on Xu Jinnan’s arm as she turned over.
The faint scent of medication mingled with Shen Shu’s sweet pheromones, the two distinct yet somehow harmonious in Xu Jinnan’s heightened senses.
Sometimes, all she could smell was that sweet fragrance.
A sudden tingling sensation in her scent gland made her heart skip a beat.
But it quickly subsided.
Afraid of losing control, she had been deliberately maintaining a distance from Shen Shu since the night before last.
She had been relieved when Shen Shu had already been asleep when she came to bed last night. Sleeping in separate beds had made it easier to control her impulses, but sharing a bed was different.
Not only was her body still affected by the original Xu Jinnan’s… quirks, but Shen Shu’s attitude had also changed, her occasional displays of affection both surprising and unsettling.
She carefully moved her arm, preparing to get out of bed, when a soft moan came from beside her.
“What time is it?” Shen Shu murmured, her voice still hoarse, but less so than yesterday.
“It’s only 7 a.m. Go back to sleep,” Xu Jinnan replied. “I have to go to the Special Ward today.”
Shen Shu’s eyes fluttered open. “Because of the… incident?”
Xu Jinnan shook her head. “No, remember my brother’s friend, Li Lan? She’s in North City now, and she’s taken over the case. I just have to go through the formalities,” she explained, then got up and started getting ready, putting some porridge on the stove before leaving.
She had a busy day ahead of her.
—
After a morning meeting, which ended around 10 a.m., she went to the North City Special Ward.
It was similar to a regular police station, but specifically for ABO-related matters, its jurisdiction more focused.
Li Lan took her directly to her office and briefly explained the situation.
While she was the director, she still had to follow protocol; she wasn’t one to bend the rules.
Xu Jinnan understood.
“A week, ten days at most. I’ll have an answer for you,” Li Lan said.
Xu Jinnan, taking a sip of the cappuccino Li Lan had ordered for her, smiled faintly. “You’re that confident?”
“This woman seems tough. She’s not giving us anything useful. We need to change our approach,” Li Lan explained.
Xu Jinnan didn’t ask for details, simply saying, “Then I’ll leave it to you.”
Li Lan’s words reminded her of something.
They had never found out who had supplied the drug to Yin Xue.
“If you handled that case, do you think you could get anything out of Yin Xue?” she asked.
Li Lan leaned back in her chair. “I interrogated her.”
Xu Jinnan was surprised. She had known Li Lan had helped with the aftermath, but not that she had personally interrogated Yin Xue.
“Yin Xue is different from this woman. She’s incredibly resilient. Even after two weeks in solitary, on the verge of a mental breakdown, she didn’t say a word. Meaning whatever she’s hiding is more important than her own well-being. Without more evidence, I can’t keep interrogating her.”
That was why they hadn’t been able to get anything out of Yin Xue.
But this woman, the one who attacked Shen Shu, wasn’t as strong.
Xu Jinnan’s thoughts paused.
“Speaking of Yin Xue, she was acting crazy for a while, causing trouble every day, but lately, she’s been behaving, even actively participating in rehabilitation programs,” Li Lan said.
“She wants to get out?”
“She’s not getting out,” Li Lan said firmly, standing up. “Didn’t your brother tell you that?”
He had.
Xu Yincheng had said Yin Xue would never be released.
—
Xu Jinnan sat in her car outside the Special Ward for a while, lost in thought.
She had a feeling that the person behind Yin Xue and the person behind the attack on Shen Shu were the same.
She hadn’t been able to go to the hospital that day, having received an urgent call from the company on her way there.
She had been putting it off, and now, with work piling up, she hadn’t had time.
—
Shen Shu had returned to filming.
Despite the three-day delay, no one on set held it against her. Xu Jinnan had been providing catered meals and afternoon tea for the entire crew, and had even given all the women, both Alphas and Omegas, gifts from Meilai Jewelry.
Someone had even posted about it on Weibo, praising Xu Jinnan as the “perfect wife.”
The post had gone viral, and the hashtag #CEO Wife had trended.
By the time Xu Jinnan heard about it, her and Shen Shu’s names had been trending for three days – after the attack on Shen Shu, someone had promoted their CP super topic, and it had quickly climbed the ranks, reaching the top spot.
Then, someone had dug up more information about their relationship.
This time, a more thorough profile of Xu Jinnan had emerged.
Third daughter of the Xu family. (Need I say more? There’s only one Xu family in North City.)
Notorious playboy, known for her wild ways. (Everyone in the upper echelons of the wealthy socialite circle knows this.)
Used underhanded tactics to marry the stunningly beautiful Shen Shu. (A classic case of forced marriage turning into love. Basically, a reformed scumbag Alpha falling for her wife. I’m not a CP fan, but CEO Xu is definitely cool.)
Started investing a year ago, and her assets are already among the top ten in North City. (What does that mean? It means while your mom gives you a dollar and you think about what kind of candy to buy, she takes a dollar and thinks about how to buy a factory, and succeeds.)
Her most successful ventures so far are Meilai Jewelry (which she saved from bankruptcy, and which is now an international brand) and the “Show” live streaming app (which she personally designed – yes, you read that right, personally designed – and which is revolutionizing the short video industry with its innovative design).
And for those in the financial world, you’ve probably heard about the Song family’s downfall. A friend of mine, a financial manager, said if the Song family hadn’t apologized, their company would be bankrupt by now…
And you’ve probably noticed, there’s almost no information about her online, no photos unless she posts them herself.
Think about it, what kind of background grants you that kind of power? A simple business wouldn’t be enough.
In conclusion, powerful family, powerful CEO.
I know my account will probably be deleted soon, but I’m so jealous! This is a real-life rags-to-riches story!
Xu Jinnan read the post, which, while omitting some details, was relatively accurate, and she was pleased with the praise.
She liked the post using her “RichSisterWithStamina” account.
To her surprise, Shen Shu had also seen the post and liked it.
And because of Shen Shu’s like, their names trended again.
It also boosted the popularity of the “Show” app, its registered user count exceeding five hundred thousand in a single day, and still climbing.
Even celebrities and influencers were joining the platform.
With their names constantly trending, Shen Shu’s Weibo follower count also skyrocketed, many of them CP fans, and the “NanShu” super topic continued to grow.
From the parking garage incident to the #CEOWife hashtag, Shen Shu had been trending almost non-stop for a week.
It even spawned a new term – the Shen Shu Effect.
Anything associated with Shen Shu seemed to trend.
Of course, there were still plenty of haters.
Seriously? Someone with no work to her name is actually famous? What is this world coming to…
Isn’t she an actress? Where are her dramas???
Trending Queen. Ugh, barf.
Xu Jinnan didn’t think the negative comments were a bad thing. If she hadn’t seen Shen Shu’s acting herself, she might have doubted her talent, but she had witnessed it firsthand.
These comments would only fuel Shen Shu’s future success.
—
Leave a Reply