Chapter 15: Twice the Money

Li Jingche's hand slowly rested on Jian Qing’s slender, upright back—hovering, uncertain whether to caress through the thin fabric. Yet Jian Qing was already clutching the muscles of his chest, refusing to let go. Her head spun as she slumped against him, ear pressed to the warmth of his body.

“You’re drunk, Jian Qing,” Li Jingche’s voice was rough, his breath trembling slightly, long, gently curled lashes shading eyes already tinged with desire.

At that moment, a knock sounded at the door. It was the two young men who had accompanied Jian Qing earlier—the ones Yan Jin had admired. Both wore suits and ties, looking uncomfortably hot, their hair slicked back with pomade, not a single cuff left unbuttoned.

Their boss peered in from the doorway, sneaking glances at Li Jingche. He nodded ever so slightly, then swept Jian Qing into his arms and carried her out.

“Off to join the army, dressed so stiffly?” he remarked, his gaze glancing over the two male models before he left with Jian Qing.

Li Jingche considered for a moment and didn’t take Jian Qing back to his own room. Instead, he reserved a room for her at the Haiyan Heqing Hotel to rest.

He laid her on the bed, her scent—feminine and tinged with wine—like a rose adrift in the sea.

Clinging to Li Jingche like an octopus, Jian Qing refused to let go, mumbling under her breath, “I’m an octopus… This way, I could slap Ren Yishan eight times at once.”

Li Jingche chuckled softly, “I see, an octopus indeed.”

At the sound of his voice, Jian Qing tiredly lifted her gaze, then hooked her foot under his chin, “You’re really good-looking.”

“If I weren’t, with all my debts, would you still want me?”

Li Jingche never dared forget the advice He Jiangyu had given him, playing the role of a poor but high-quality man to perfection.

Jian Qing nodded, “True, with all your debts, you’d have to pay them off with your own ass.”

With that, she suddenly sat up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Tonight, I’ll give you a chance to repay your debt.”

She lifted the comforter and patted the space beside her.

Her fitted black gown, under the dim light, made her fair skin seem all the more like flawless jade—too much powder would be too pale, too much rouge would be too red, but she was beautiful in just the right measure.

Her eyes shimmered with spring water, clear and full of promise; when she smiled, the two dimples at her cheeks added an innocent charm to her captivating face.

Li Jingche shed his shirt and leaned over her.

Just as he was about to kiss her, Jian Qing pressed a finger between their lips. “Number Thirty-Three, don’t trust any woman except me.”

The next second, her words were swallowed by his lips.

The night was clear and spotless, the moonlight as silver as water. Willow waists swayed; two people entwined, as fish and water.

By morning, the aroma of food drew Jian Qing from sleep. She blinked, staring at the ceiling, savoring the memories of the night before.

They say alcohol gives courage to the timid; Jian Qing had seen it firsthand. She’d even believed she was frigid before last night, having once rejected Xiao Yuncheng’s advances for that very reason.

But after tasting Li Jingche, Jian Qing realized—perhaps it was simply the wrong person before.

With Li Jingche, she could accept everything. She didn’t even feel she’d lost anything.

“Awake? How do you feel?” Li Jingche’s voice came from the table. Jian Qing turned her head languidly and, seeing the concern in his eyes, smiled with a hint of mischief.

“Are you waiting for me to compliment you?”

The caring words caught in Li Jingche’s throat. He paused, a pair of bamboo chopsticks poised in his fingers, gaze steady on her as he unconsciously licked his lips—the sweet trace of her lipstick still lingering.

Getting up, Jian Qing glanced out the window at the torrential rain. She’d slept so soundly she hadn’t noticed it at all last night. The wind whipped the downpour into a white mist just above the ground.

“Mmm…” she drawled, “Big. Even bigger than today’s rain.”

“Eat. Now.” Li Jingche articulated each word, watching her struggle with her clothes. He draped his jacket over her shoulders and helped her to the table.

Her wrists were limp; she slumped in the chair, waiting to be served. Li Jingche rolled her an egg roll, then brought a spoonful of seafood porridge to her lips.

“For the time being, you’ll stay at my house. As long as your identity as He Jiangyu isn’t exposed, I need to use it to throw my weight around a bit.”

Jian Qing was the kind who, if God closed a door, would simply open it again—after all, that’s what doors are for.

She preferred to take things as they came. Since her Number Thirty-Three identity was still secret, she might as well use it to suppress Ren Yishan’s momentum, lest Ren Yishan get the upper hand later.

“Do as you please during the day, but you must be home by nine. If you can come back and cook by six, I’ll give you a bonus,” she said.

Li Jingche didn’t answer—he just glanced at Jian Qing, his eyes shifting.

Cooking wasn’t his forte. The Li family kitchen had once caught fire when, in high school, he’d tried to take a cooking class and blown up the kitchen. Ever since, the kitchen was locked with fingerprint and facial recognition, and neither Li Jingche nor Old Li was allowed in.

As for Old Li?

He was the family’s Doberman.

“Last night was great. Here’s two hundred thousand,” Jian Qing said, ready to transfer the money. Li Jingche pressed her hand, hesitating.

“Too little?”

He said nothing, hesitating as if to speak but stopping.

“Fine, four hundred thousand.” Jian Qing was generous, never stingy with money.

At the chime of the transfer, Li Jingche peeled off his jacket from her shoulders.

“What’s wrong?”

“How do you determine the number? By the hour? Or by sh…”

He didn’t finish before Jian Qing clapped a hand over his mouth. “Is it really necessary to be that specific?”

She was usually so brazen, but once things got intimate, she turned shy.

Li Jingche caught her wrist, and when she finally lowered her hand, he added, “If it’s by the latter, then two times means two times.”

...

Jian Qing wasn’t sure how she made it home. On the way back to the villa with Li Jingche, her legs were trembling as she got out of the car.

The man tried to carry her inside, but she refused, bracing herself on the door and stepping ahead. The moment she entered, she saw Ren Yishan, Ren Tianchuan, and the family doctor sitting together.

Ren Yishan’s cheeks were flushed, as if she had a fever. Ren Tianchuan was watching the doctor seriously, who scribbled a prescription and explained something at length.

At the sight of Jian Qing, Ren Yishan’s lips quivered, and she looked utterly aggrieved. “Sister, I know you can’t let go of Yuncheng, but he’s still dating me. Why must you use such underhanded means to seduce him?”

As she spoke, Ren Yishan walked over, her gaze lingering on Jian Qing before wrapping herself around Li Jingche’s arm.

“Mr. He, I really don’t want to see you fall into the same trap as Yuncheng, but Qingqing is my sister. If that incident with Yuncheng hadn’t happened, I wouldn’t be confronting her like this…”

“Something happened to Xiao Yuncheng?” Jian Qing interjected, only to feel her wrist gripped tightly.

Li Jingche’s eyes darkened—

Who are you worried about?

After spending the night with him, this woman still had the energy to worry about someone else?!