Chapter 11: Just for Fun, Why Take It Seriously
A flicker of astonishment crossed Jiang Ciyou’s eyes.
“I truly don’t know. Miss Bo didn’t say; she only mentioned this room has been unoccupied for years.”
Bo Jinxi raised an eyebrow. “She wasn’t wrong. I’ve lived at the Green Lawn Villa for these past three years.”
At the mention of Green Lawn Villa, an inexplicable awkwardness settled between them.
Bo Jinxi noticed the faintest blush fleeting across Jiang Ciyou’s cheek, and his mood lifted considerably.
“Go ahead and change your clothes. We’ll talk in a moment.”
Only then did Jiang Ciyou realize she was still undressed. Yet, changing clothes under such an unabashed gaze was a true test of composure.
“Mr. Bo, haven’t you heard the saying, ‘Do not look upon what is improper’?”
Bo Jinxi laughed, striding over and sitting right on the sofa where Jiang Ciyou had laid her clothes. His gaze grew even more brazen. “I’m not well-read. Never heard of it.”
This openly shameless man was exactly the one she had kept for three years.
But Jiang Ciyou was not one to be shy. They had long since lost count of how many times they’d slept together. What should be seen—or not—had already been seen more times than she could recall.
With poise, Jiang Ciyou set down the cheongsam in her hands and reached for the clothes Bo Xinyi had prepared on the sofa. Under the cheongsam, she wore a cream-colored set of underwear, now revealed without the slightest attempt at concealment before the man.
His pupils darkened instantly.
Jiang Ciyou’s figure was exquisite: a slender waist, as deadly as a scimitar, but with curves in all the right places. The undulating landscape of her body resembled an oil painting painted in bold, rich colors.
The memory of her soft, silky touch assaulted the man’s mind. In the end, his long arm reached out, seizing her by the arm.
Just as her fingers brushed the clothes, she and the garments both fell into his embrace.
A fierce, scorching kiss swept over her.
Jiang Ciyou struggled twice, but failed to push him away—and so she stopped resisting.
She knew just how intoxicating his kisses were. Since she could enjoy them once more, and for free, why not indulge?
As the two were lost in the heat of passion, their lips entwined in a dizzying embrace, Jiang Ciyou’s phone suddenly rang.
She tried to push the man off her. “There’s a call.”
“So what?”
The man, already lost to desire, had no intention of letting her go so easily.
His large hand traced along the curve of her waist, sliding lower, intent on further action, when Jiang Ciyou smiled and said, “It’s my husband calling—I have to answer.”
One sentence instantly doused his ardor. He got off her at once.
Jiang Ciyou took the opportunity to grab her phone.
“Where did you run off to?” Yan Feng’s voice was now much clearer, though hardly gentle.
“Wine spilled on my dress. I’ll change and come right back.”
“You’re always making a fuss,” Yan Feng replied, and hung up.
Jiang Ciyou ended the call and began dressing. A yellow camisole paired with dark jeans gave her a look both casual and alluring. With her face, she could pull off any style.
“Jiang Ciyou, let’s talk,” Bo Jinxi said.
After changing, she looked at him. “About what?”
“Leave Yan Feng. Come to me.”
Jiang Ciyou laughed.
Bo Jinxi frowned. “What’s so funny?”
“You want me to give up the title of Mrs. Yan to become your secret mistress?”
“Is being Mrs. Yan so precious to you?”
“Of course. The Yan family may not rival the Bo family, but they’re still immensely wealthy. Being the lady of the Yan house is far more respectable than being your hidden lover.”
“I never intended for you to be a secret.”
“Then what? Are you planning to marry me?”
Bo Jinxi stared at the bewitchingly smiling woman before him, his brows drawn tight, but said nothing.
Jiang Ciyou nonchalantly tossed back her wavy hair and smiled. “Mr. Bo, it’s just a game. Why take it seriously?”
“These three years—you enjoyed yourself, and so did I. You never minded my neglect, and I never minded your deceit and disguise. Between us, let’s part on good terms, shall we?”
Jiang Ciyou could not understand this man’s mindset. Clearly born a favored son of fate, yet he’d willingly let her keep him as a gigolo.
Looking back, she had indeed neglected him often these past three years—ignoring his calls, standing him up, venting her bad moods on him. She’d only ever seen him as a pet, always at her beck and call, there to provide emotional comfort.
Had she known his true identity, she admitted, she’d never have dared. Yet for three years, he never revealed himself. Why?
Was the scion of the capital’s most powerful family born with a penchant for suffering?
His eyes were dark with stormy intensity, his pale skin lending him the look of an angry vampire—a creature ready, at any moment, to pounce and sink its fangs into her throat, draining her dry.
“Jiang Ciyou, do you love your husband?”
“Of course. Otherwise, why would I marry him?”
“He has a mistress.”
“I know.”
“He doesn’t love you.”
“I know.”
“Then why do you still love him?”
“We grew up together—childhood sweethearts. That kind of bond is beyond others’ understanding. Maybe there are misunderstandings now, but I believe one day he’ll come back to me.”
Jiang Ciyou had long stopped loving Yan Feng. She was already determined to leave him—but that departure would be her own decision, not forced by anyone else.
She spoke thus, hoping to cut things cleanly, to make this crown prince give up for good.
“So, since he cheated, and you kept me, I was merely your tool to take revenge on him?”
Jiang Ciyou paused, then answered honestly, “That’s right.” Then she added, “But I truly didn’t know who you really were. If I had, I’d never have dared provoke you.”
Bo Jinxi laughed, the mockery at his lips unmistakable.
“Three years, and I, Bo Jinxi, am still just someone else’s weapon of revenge. Jiang Ciyou, well done.”
Seeing his expression, a sense of unease welled up in Jiang Ciyou.
Sure enough, the next moment the man stood up, his tall frame blocking her like a mountain.
Bo Jinxi gripped her chin.
“Jiang Ciyou, no one uses me as a tool and tosses me aside. If anyone’s to do the tossing, it will be me.”
With that, he strode out of the room.
Jiang Ciyou stood stunned for a moment, then walked out as well.
Yan Feng, having vomited, had sobered up a great deal. Seeing Jiang Ciyou in a new outfit, he didn’t bother asking about what had happened.
When the banquet ended, Jiang Ciyou and Yan Feng took their leave from the hosts and departed Lushan Villa.
Jiang Ciyou rolled down the car window, feeling inexplicably agitated. It seemed she had stirred up a sleeping Buddha.
Once they entered the city, the car stopped suddenly at a subway entrance.
Yan Feng, eyes closed, didn’t look at her. “Jiang Ciyou, I have things to do tonight and won’t be returning home. You take a cab back yourself.”