Chapter Forty: A Scoundrel’s Entrance Spells a Lifetime of Regret

Even the bathrooms here glitter with gold, larger than the tiny place she calls home. She’s truly grown used to poverty, so the ways of the wealthy remain an enigma to her.

After drying her hands, Mai Xijun left the restroom. But as she rounded the corner with her head bowed, she startled so badly her heart nearly leapt from her chest. Why was she so easily frightened these days?

Yet when she saw the newcomer, her face blossomed into a smile, surprise and joy lighting her features. “Little Stone!”

“Little Pudding!” The man’s lips curled into a charming grin, his eyes half-lidded, his fair skin exuding a unique allure. He was even more handsome than she remembered from their childhood; she almost didn’t recognize him.

After exchanging their secret nicknames, both broke into foolish laughter. Mai Xijun never imagined she’d meet him again, but here he was, as if fate itself had orchestrated their reunion.

“Little Stone, you still owe me a pudding!” Mai Xijun held out her finger, pursed her lips thoughtfully, and gently poked his shoulder with her right index finger.

Fifteen years had gone by in a flash. Time shows no mercy. She’d left without saying goodbye all those years ago and knew nothing of his life since. Though they remembered each other, time had placed a faint barrier between them. To ease the awkwardness, Mai Xijun cleared her throat, “I think I still owe you a sketch for a necklace pendant.”

“Heh, you remember that?” The usually composed man now seemed as shy as a boy, scratching his head and grinning foolishly. “When will you give me the sketch?”

Mai Xijun rested her chin in her palm, furrowing her brow in thought. “Whenever you bring me my pudding, I’ll give you your pendant!”

He nodded wordlessly. Just as he was about to reminisce or ask another question, a voice drifted from behind, “Shaoxing?”

Mo Shaoxing turned around, a flash of panic crossing his face before he regained his composure. “Has Young Master finished handling everything? What’s next? Are you heading back to the company, or—?”

“Take care of the rest. I have something to do, so I’ll be going first,” Shen Yanlie said, approaching the pair with a calm expression. He took Mai Xijun by the elbow. She resisted slightly but failed, following him reluctantly into the elevator.

What an infuriating man—always haunting her like a persistent ghost! But her Little Stone brother was his subordinate? She might’ve guessed it when she saw Little Stone in the private room earlier.

Shen Yanlie caught the disdain on Mai Xijun’s face and remarked coolly, “Mai Xijun, did your conscience get eaten by a dog?”

She froze. Shen Yanlie, are you insane? But his sharp glare and dismissive expression made her blink, her breath slowly easing. “How did I offend you again? If you’re dissatisfied, just say so. Stop playing these sneaky games—I can’t read your mind, and I won’t try!”

She didn’t realize how ambiguous her exchange with Mo Shaoxing had looked at the restroom door—like two schoolchildren in love, laughing so freely. Was she always so happy away from his side? Damn woman! Always stirring things up behind his back!

Shen Yanlie ignored her, and Mai Xijun felt she’d wasted her effort. He was always strange—his moods unpredictable. On good days, he’d be friendly, even cook for her; on bad days, he’d scowl and barely acknowledge her. He was a mess—someone who needed fixing!

The car stopped in front of Mai Xijun’s building. She meant to say goodbye, but he turned off the engine and followed her out. What was this about?

Watching Shen Yanlie stride past her, taking the stairs two at a time, she thought: Is he planning to stick to her now? She really didn’t care for oddballs.

“What are you waiting for? Open the door,” Shen Yanlie arched his brow. In the glow of the night light, his handsome features were sharply defined, a hint of wild charm and rebelliousness between his brows.

Mai Xijun lowered her gaze, rummaging for her keys. She must have looked utterly foolish just then—standing at her own door, staring at the man before her. She was hopeless.

But why was she obeying him? Mai Xijun felt she must be losing her mind, tapping her forehead. “Sorry, I’m home now. Would you please leave…”

With a perfectly professional smile, she opened the door just wide enough, slipped inside deftly, and shut it with a loud bang.

A good man is like a fine wine—rich and intoxicating, leaving a lasting impression after just a taste. But a slightly sinister ‘scoundrel’ is like poison; one encounter and you’re doomed forever.

It’s said that if a beauty’s smile can topple a kingdom, a scoundrel’s arrival spells lifelong misfortune! The ‘lifelong misfortune’ brought by a scoundrel is much like those eccentric women’s organizations in Gu Long’s novels, all originating from a story of betrayal. Their leaders share a common thread: deep passion, obsession, brilliance, and powerful backgrounds. Like Lin Chaoying of the Ancient Tomb Sect, Yaoyue of the Flower Palace, Lian Nishang of the Tianshan white-haired witch sect, Water Mother Yin Ji of Divine Water Palace, Nie Xiaofeng of the Nether Prison—weren’t all their tragedies caused by scoundrels?

Mai Xijun was about to become a renowned jewelry designer. If Shen Yanlie was her fated ‘scoundrel,’ would her brief, beautiful life end before it even began?

She took a deep breath, exhaled, and went straight to the bathroom. She shed her clothes and took a hot shower, hoping that in two days, she’d arrive in Paris without a hitch, restoring herself to her original state—doing only what she wanted, avoiding entanglements, steering clear of disputes, leaving behind worldly troubles, and pursuing her passions.

But when she finally felt exhausted and lay down, sleep eluded her.

Her home was quiet enough that she could hear her own heartbeat. Driven by some strange impulse, she got up, pulled a small box out from under the bed, and opened it carefully.

A stack of old photographs lay atop a necklace, which rested quietly. She hooked it with her finger; the pendant swung in the air, gradually slowing.

This must mean a great deal to that man, she thought—then startled at herself for even considering it. Shouldn’t she avoid anything related to that night as much as possible?