Chapter 2: Sitting Without Being Moved

Chen Guanlou was invited into the flower hall.

A middle-aged man in the guise of a steward accepted the gift, then quickly handed over a sealed packet of silver. The man weighed it in his hand; his expression suggested he was at least satisfied.

“Wait here. The mistress will be here shortly.”

“Thank you!”

A young maid brought tea. Chen Guanlou sipped it—the tea was fragrant, the leaves of good quality. The Liu family’s servants treated guests with decency, not dismissing him as a fallen household with stale dregs.

Chen Guanlou’s confidence rose by three-tenths. He smiled politely at the serving maid in thanks. The maid, however, covered her lips with her sleeve and stifled a laugh before turning away.

After about half a cup of tea, the wife of the Liu steward arrived, late as ever.

Hearing the commotion outside, Chen Guanlou rose promptly and turned toward the door. The light in the flower hall dimmed as two figures entered.

Leading the way was a woman in her thirties. Chen Guanlou stole a glance—what a voluptuous woman. Her features were merely pleasant, but her eyes seemed to speak, their glances shifting with an innate allure. Her ordinary six-tenths beauty, amplified by those seductive, half-revealing, emotionally ambiguous eyes and her supple figure, instantly became ten-tenths captivating—more alluring than even the most beautiful young lady.

Ripe!

Overripe!

Like a watermelon peach dripping with juice, anyone would want to take a bite.

This woman must be Liu Wan Shi, the wife of the Liu steward.

Chen Guanlou dared not stare. He quickly lowered his gaze, eyes fixed on his nose, nose on his dantian, silently reciting: Form is emptiness, emptiness is form.

Following Liu Wan Shi was the same serving maid who had brought the tea.

“Young man greets the mistress.”

Seeking a favor, Chen Guanlou had no psychological barrier to offering a junior’s bow. In their clan, boys his age called the Liu steward “Grandpa Liu”; for him to bow to Liu Wan Shi was no disgrace.

When seeking help, one must posture correctly.

“You’re the son of Chen Chengzong from East Alley? You’ve grown so much. Don’t be so formal—sit and talk. I remember seeing you when you were little.”

Liu Wan Shi sat down on the host’s seat with a beaming smile.

Chen Guanlou never spoke with his head down. He raised his head and smiled: “The mistress remembers this young man? It’s my honor!”

He might have been fine keeping his head down—but now that he lifted it, Liu Wan Shi saw his face clearly. Her smile instantly shifted from a faint grin to a radiant one.

What a dashing, handsome young man! The maid hadn’t lied—he was truly outstanding. Even as he smiled, he gave no hint of sycophancy or vulgarity; instead, he seemed gentle, well-mannered, and deeply likable.

Chen Chengzong was unremarkable in appearance—yet his son was this strikingly handsome.

“Why sit so far? Come closer.” Liu Wan Shi beckoned.

Chen Guanlou hesitated half a second. If she wasn’t avoiding him, he had no reason to be timid. He stepped forward two paces and sat at the side, just one small square table away from her. His hand on the table could easily brush hers. Close as this, he caught her scent—like oranges—and stole two more glances.

Liu Wan Shi noticed every small movement. She secretly rejoiced.

“You came to see my husband? Unlucky—he’s away. The Hou Fu has summoned him on urgent business; no telling when he’ll return. Whatever trouble you have, tell me—it’s the same.”

He had reached this point with no second gift to offer, meaning no retreat. Since the Liu steward was away, he could only gamble—bet on Liu Wan Shi’s conscience.

“Mistress, my father’s post at Tianlaomiao has already been taken. Now I wish to serve there myself, but I have no way in. I dare to humbly beg the Liu steward and mistress for help—please, on account of my father’s past service, lend me a hand.”

Liu Wan Shi’s eyes flickered. “So that’s it? You want to inherit your father’s post?”

“Exactly!”

“Tianlaomiao duty is a lowly trade. You’re a fine young man—have you truly thought it through?” Her tone was almost pitying.

Chen Guanlou replied solemnly: “I am of age. I can no longer let my elder sister bear my burdens. The world is harsh. Though Tianlaomiao duty is lowly, it provides stability—better than wasting my days in aimlessness.”

“You think clearly. I’ll pass your request to my husband. Are you betrothed?”

Liu Wan Shi stared at him with a beaming smile, growing more delighted by the moment. Her body leaned slightly toward him, the table’s edge pressing against her chest, her figure even more pronounced.

In his past life, Chen Guanlou had often accompanied clients in debauchery—he had long forged a diamond-hard heart. Even witnessing carnal acts left him calm and unmoved. Liu Wan Shi’s little display couldn’t stir him.

But he forgot: his past life had been seasoned, his body immune. This body was still a virgin, and at the most passionate, impulsive age.

A little dizzy. Burning heart. A test of willpower.

He kept his expression neutral, took a deep breath, and suppressed his body’s instinct.

“Not betrothed.”

“Too picky?” Liu Wan Shi’s hand rested casually on the table, just two inches from his. A flick of her finger could brush his sleeve.

“I haven’t established myself—how could I think of marriage?”

Saying this, he reached for his teacup.

The moment his fingers touched the white porcelain cup, a soft, delicate hand settled on his own, gently winding around it.

Chen Guanlou: …

Hmm!

Stay still for now.

Does the Liu steward know his wife is like this? Leaving such a seductive woman at home—he’s not worried about green grass on his head? Or perhaps it’s already deep green.

What a wanton woman—her touch grew even more entangling.

“They say ‘marry first, then establish yourself.’ Why are you reversing it?” Liu Wan Shi smiled warmly, her gaze seeming to stretch into threads, weaving a silken web—only waiting to draw the young man inside and claim him on the spot.

“I wouldn’t want to waste a girl’s time.”

“You’re so kind. Is the tea too hot? Why not drink?”

Hearing this, Chen Guanlou quickly lifted the cup and sipped. The wife of a second-rank martialist—don’t provoke her. Keep your distance. His life had just begun—he didn’t want to die.

Once this matter is settled, I’ll stay far away from this woman.

“I’m tired! Go home and wait for news!”

Just a second ago, Liu Wan Shi had been fiery warm—now, in an instant, she switched faces, offering tea as a dismissal.

Chen Guanlou froze, staring at her face—she wasn’t joking.

He made no attempt to plead or linger. He rose, bowed, and said: “Thank you, mistress, for your concern. I take my leave!”

Liu Wan Shi nodded with dignified grace, signaling he could return home—news would come soon.

Chen Guanlou left the Liu residence bewildered, glancing back at the tightly shut gate. He couldn’t tell her true stance—was it because he didn’t respond? Or because he didn’t respond?

If the former, trouble looms—she’s clearly not a forgiving woman.

If the latter, she admires his looks—and through them, his character? I won’t claim much, but this face—if I went into the trade, I’d earn at least fifty thousand a night.

You know Jet Li?

I’m just a little handsomer than him.

Liu Wan Shi’s gaze was weaving threads—she’s never met her match. If I were serious, it wouldn’t just be threads—my eyes could weave nets. In my past life, I used this skill to make young ladies and married women beg to be held.

I just had too much integrity—otherwise, I’d be living in a mansion, driving a luxury car, instead of hanging out with clients in seedy places.