Mon mari sanguinaire est si doux - Chapitre 65

Bomei was not the only one to get a hairstyle makeover that day.

Mo Bing had sent Jiang Jiusheng a picture of Liu Xu’s new hairdo, a short cut that made her face look fat and didn’t suit her image of a beautiful fairy whatsoever. This gave the netizens more ammunition to attack her with.

When Jiang Jiusheng showed Bomei the photo, it seemed to perk up from its depression and began to eat again.

At eight that evening, Jiang Jiusheng received a call from Song Jing, Xie Dang’s manager.

“Jing.”

Sounding worried, Song Jing said quickly, “Xie Dang has caused trouble again.”

“Avec qui?” Jiang Jiusheng asked, walking out of the recording studio on the second floor. That guy was always causing trouble.

“Zhang Nai.” Song Jing raised her voice a little, as it was very noisy at her end. “He dragged Zhang Nai into the men’s room and gave him a real beating. Still unsatisfied with that, he also got into a brawl with some artists from Qin Entertainment. There’s just no stopping him. I couldn’t get the boss on the phone, and I didn’t dare call the police. I really don’t know what to do.”

Il y a quelques jours, Xie Dang had threatened to beat up that trashy couple, Zhang Nai and Liu Xu. And it seemed he had made good on his promise.

“Où?”

Song Jing gave her an address.

Jiang Jiusheng’s arm had healed well. The pain had long faded, and the cast was scheduled to be removed in the next couple of days. She grabbed a jacket and drove herself there.

It was a beautiful night, with the sky illuminated by the dazzling neon lights and a full moon shining brightly through the floor-to-ceiling window of the Presidential Suite on the thirty-fifth floor. A cette hauteur, one could almost reach out and touch the stars. It was a truly magnificent night.

A cigarette in his mouth, Yuwen Chongfeng handed a glass of water to the woman by his side. She took a sip and was about to swallow when, blowing a ring of smoke, he ordered the woman in a raspy voice, “Crache le morceau.”

The woman hesitated.

He lay half-reclined on the bed with a cigarette in his hand, his bath towel was parted, showing a hint of the lean muscles behind it. Drawing lazily on his cigarette, il a dit, “Je n'aime pas ça.”

La femme hocha la tête, then spat whatever was in her mouth into the trash bin. Licking her lips, she sat on the bed and leaned forward slowly, her sexy nightie slipping down her shoulders, displaying her alluring cleavage.

Embarrassed and somewhat inhibited, her voice faded as she said, “I… I can do this.”

It was obvious that this woman had issued him an invitation. With the cigarette dangling from his mouth, Yuwen Chongfeng looked at her, seemingly amused.

The woman bit her lip and extended her soft hand toward his shoulder and let it slide slowly down his chest. En riant, he caught the woman’s hand.

Putting out the cigarette, he pulled her to him and blew the smoke in her face. “Before we started,” il a dit, “I made it very clear. Did you not understand me?”

He had said that he didn’t want to touch virgins. That he did not want to cross the line, nor deal with the mess. That was why he only wanted it to be oral; no one was allowed to go beyond that. He had said that no emotion was to be involved. That it would only be a transaction with willing participants—everything in the open and no strings attached.

She had indeed heard the rumors about Master Feng in the past—that debauched daredevil who played hard and was willing to try anything and everything. En quelque sorte, she didn’t know when, the debauchery had ended, and boundaries had been drawn.

Dehors, everything was as it had been before. He was still seen as a player among players, not caring what the world thought of him. pourtant, there was a slight difference now—a restricted zone where no one was allowed in.

Par exemple, the ring that he wore around his neck. Nobody was allowed to touch that. There was a person deep in his heart. One who made him unsure of himself, unable to articulate his thoughts. Or perhaps he was caught in a complex situation in which he had found his one true love but was forced to keep any trace of this love under wraps.

“The driver will pick you up shortly. I won’t see you out,” il a dit, getting up and putting on his shirt.

“Et vous?” elle a demandé.

“My blind date is waiting for me in the hotel’s restaurant.”

Elle était sans voix. It was so like him, arranging to meet his blind date at the hotel.