The wound on her hand took over a week to fully heal.
During that time, she fulfilled the contract with Sheng Shubai several times. Lu Jia tried everything, except her right hand, which the woman had explicitly forbidden her from using while it recovered.
She knew that getting it wet would slow the healing, so she was extra careful during her daily routines.
At first, when she tried using it, Lu Jia felt a faint sense of awkwardness deep down, thinking it might feel more natural that way.
But once she actually used it, she had no mind left to overthink.
Technology had its reasons for advancing, Lu Jia thought. At least, even if her hand cramped up from rubbing, she couldn’t achieve that kind of frequency.
After experiencing its effects, she went overboard picking out styles.
It was the first time Lu Jia had seen so many; they dazzled her eyes.
Last night was a new one. Sheng Shubai leaned over to embrace her, thoughtfully leaving the smaller half for her, yet it was still incredibly intense.
Even just lying on the soft bed, with the ceiling light blurring into halos in her hazy vision, her scattered thoughts couldn’t distinguish anything else.
It was passive force again, her waist going completely limp.
Lu Jia was always the first to succumb, especially since the woman still had the energy to pull her in for a kiss.
It wasn’t until the early hours of the morning that they finally wrapped up.
Sheng Shubai carried her to the bathroom to clean up together, then tucked her back into bed. The moment Lu Jia closed her eyes, exhaustion claimed her, oblivious to the world.
She only had time to nestle into the woman’s arms, enveloped in a rich, soft fragrance, and murmur a dazed goodnight.
She slept until past eight in the morning. Fortunately, it was still the weekend, so there was no need to worry about school.
Lu Jia got up quietly to wash up, then sat in the living room hugging her laptop, reading literature until nearly ten o’clock, when the woman finally sauntered out of the bedroom.
Seeing the girl sitting cross-legged against the sofa’s back pillow, with a slim laptop on her lap, Sheng Shubai casually asked, “Why didn’t you go to the study?”
Lu Jia looked up. “This is fine here.”
The study was the owner’s private space, after all. No matter how many times she came over, she was still an outsider.
Slipping into slippers, she went into the kitchen and saw the steamer basket with the shu mai and steamed dumplings she had mentioned last night.
Sheng Shubai smiled. “You refuse to set foot in the study no matter what, but you’ve opened the fridge in the kitchen plenty of times—you know exactly what’s inside.”
Lu Jia closed her screen. “That’s different.”
Her cooking skills hadn’t improved quickly, but breakfast was just simple steaming of frozen foods from the fridge, or buying from the breakfast shop downstairs. It wasn’t hard.
Every time, the woman ended up more exhausted from the activities late at night, so Lu Jia naturally took over making breakfast.
Once Sheng Shubai sat at the table, Lu Jia opened her tablet and handed it over. It showed an inspiration that had struck last night. She’d been too sleepy to sketch it then, so she’d quickly drawn a rough draft after waking up.
It was a design of a woman plucking a rose kissed by morning dew, which she planned to make into a color woodblock print.
The nightgown color wasn’t the usual wine red for such themes; instead, she’d tentatively filled it with light tones that contrasted beautifully with the green leaves of the rose bushes.
Sheng Shubai glanced at it, and her gaze lingered.
Forgetting breakfast, she took the tablet from Lu Jia and examined it closely, pondering the intent behind every stroke.
It was just a simple sketch, and Lu Jia felt a bit embarrassed by her serious demeanor. She waved it off. “It’s just something I doodled. It’s not refined enough yet.”
Sheng Shubai looked up at her, then quickly lowered her eyes again, zooming and panning with two fingers on the screen.
“I suddenly find your advisor even more disagreeable.”
Nearly five minutes passed before Sheng Shubai handed the tablet back to Lu Jia.
Her eyebrows arched, and her beautiful peach-blossom eyes glanced over slyly.
“Really not considering watercolor? In a few years, when I become a PhD advisor, I can keep mentoring you. I guarantee no delays in your graduation.”
The girl had solid fundamentals, and her inspiration was top-notch.
Among their art creation circle, the biggest fear was rigidity and stiffness.
Sheng Shubai had always thought Lu Jia’s works were high quality, leagues ahead of her peers. Today’s color scheme was especially eye-catching; even the word “new” didn’t do it justice.
This kid was usually so airheaded, like a block of wood, but when it came to printmaking, it was like she became a different person—truly talented.
She wondered if it was from seeing too many of her little aunt’s old works; a few paintings had a similar atmosphere, three to five points alike.
If the family saw this…
Sheng Shubai halted her thoughts, pushing them aside.
“You’re too kind, Miss Sheng.”
Lu Jia’s fingertip brushed the edge of the tablet, still carrying the faint warmth from where the woman had held it.
She knew Sheng Shubai had majored in printmaking for her undergrad and had looked up some of her works online—they were infinitely better than her own, as expected from the heir of a printmaking family.
Hearing such praise now, Lu Jia felt unworthy of it.
Sheng Shubai twirled a strand of hair that had fallen in front of her. The girl’s hair was fine and soft, wrapping obediently around her fingertip.
“Alright, tidy up. We’re going out to buy swimsuits soon.”
She didn’t argue about whether the praise was deserved. She checked the time on her wrist and stood to clear the dishes.
They had planned to go swimming a few days earlier, but Sheng Shubai remembered the sleepwear incident and specifically asked Lu Jia what style her swimsuit was.
When she saw the photos the girl sent—several one-piece swimsuits, with a black-and-white striped one on top.
Sheng Shubai fell silent for a rare five minutes.
That set alone probably had more fabric than all the swimsuits in her closet combined.
So last night, after their session, with Lu Jia pillowed in her arms, she heard the woman plan to go buy swimsuits today.
Her head nodding sleepily, she let the other arrange it.
The girl was pretty and slender, but not delicate. The lines on her waist and abdomen were only slightly softer than Sheng Shubai’s, and her arms showed faint muscles when tensed.
After starting this relationship with Sheng Shubai, and seeing how the woman liked to grind against her lower abdomen several times, Lu Jia had gotten a membership at the C University Gym.
She trained her upper body and core three times a week, and Sheng Shubai was very satisfied with her cooperative attitude, expressing it through their nighttime activities.
After asking Lu Jia’s opinion and learning she didn’t mind showing more skin—she just thought one-pieces looked better—Sheng Shubai rubbed her brow.
If she hadn’t seen the girl sketching with her own eyes, she’d doubt whether those inspired designs really came from this wooden head with such questionable taste.
Before coming, Sheng Shubai had pondered which styles would suit Lu Jia.
But standing in the mall’s specialty store, surrounded by a dazzling array of options, it was overwhelming.
Sheng Shubai thought that Lu Jia’s temperament was worlds apart from hers, so she naturally couldn’t pull off the styles she liked.
Yet her waist and abdominal curves were so beautiful—it would be a shame not to show them off.
It was their private pool anyway; whatever she wore, only she would see it. No outsiders.
She’d pick a few pretty ones. If they ever went to the beach together in the future, they could come in handy.