Lu Jia hadn’t drunk much, but staying in the KTV under the flashing lights and blaring music left her a bit dizzy.
When someone suddenly touched her face, she was still a little slow to react.
But the woman’s cool fingertips brushing against her skin did ease much of the drunken heat rising from her chest, feeling so comfortable that she couldn’t help but rub against them a few more times.
Her thoughts gradually cleared, and she realized the meaning behind Sheng Shubai’s words from moments ago.
“Miss Sheng?”
Lu Jia didn’t understand where she had wronged herself.
Though she felt uneasy around Shen Zhiwei, she had promised the other woman and President Sheng. Even if she couldn’t win Shen Zhiwei over, she at least wanted her to believe that she was genuinely interested in going to Country A.
According to Shen Zhiwei, she only planned to stay in the country for a few months.
If she could delay it a bit longer, by the time Song Lan’s next touring exhibition launched, the preparations—without her most trusted student to handle things she couldn’t do personally—would make it easier for Sheng Shuyun’s people to find any oversights.
“No need to worry about pushing her away, and no need to force yourself.”
Sheng Shubai understood what Lu Jia meant.
The light turned green, and she gripped the steering wheel again, her tone calm: “Think of it another way—it’s Shen Zhiwei who’s trying to trick you into going to Country A. She should be the one afraid of saying the wrong thing.”
Lu Jia frowned and thought for a moment, shaking her head as if half-understanding: “I’m not quite clear-headed right now. I’ll think it over properly later.”
Sheng Shubai was amused by her. “Alright, then tomorrow after you sleep it off, I’ll repeat it once more.”
The person who hadn’t sobered up completely was already leaning on the handrail for support in the elevator.
The metal was cold, the chill spreading from her palm through her veins.
Lu Jia stood relatively steadily with her bag on her back, only swaying a little when the elevator stopped, the sense of weightlessness making the mush in her brain even messier.
The icy metal bar wasn’t as comfortable as Sheng Shubai’s fingertips from earlier.
The thought drifted up unbidden, and Lu Jia wasn’t even aware of what she was thinking.
Once inside, Sheng Shubai laid out several sheets of paper printed with ink in front of her, and only then did Lu Jia realize she had come back to the woman’s place.
“The new lease contract. I had a lawyer friend draft it.”
Her porcelain-white fingertips tapped lightly on the paper, producing a soft rustling sound that conveyed an air of composure.
Sheng Shubai looked up, pushed a pen toward Lu Jia, and pointed to one line: “I only added this part, regarding wall decorations. You can handle them freely from now on.”
The original contract had been based on an online template and wasn’t very detailed.
Redrafting it wasn’t for any other reason—nothing like “Lu Jia said she wanted to hang her painting up” or anything like that. Absolutely not.
Sheng Shubai had simply realized that the kid was a printmaking major and would undoubtedly want to hang some satisfactory works or decorations. Since the apartment was temporarily for Lu Jia, and it would likely stay empty after she graduated in a couple of years anyway, letting her mess around with it was better than bare walls.
The text tangled densely in her vision.
Following the woman’s slender fingertip, Lu Jia spotted the line, paused to process it, and could mostly understand.
She signed it—two copies—and when she handed them to Sheng Shubai, there were unexpectedly two more sheets underneath.
Without much thought, assuming there were additional terms to sign, Lu Jia was about to put pen to paper when an outstretched palm blocked the signature blank and took the black pen from her fingers.
“You’re not afraid I’ll sell you off?”
Sheng Shubai was helpless. “Read it carefully first. Sign only if there’s no problem.”
She had originally placed this contract underneath with some intention of tricking Lu Jia into signing it.
She knew very well that whatever the girl agreed to, she would follow through meticulously. Even if coaxed into signing now, Lu Jia would honor it tomorrow after waking up.
Lu Jia let out a soft “oh,” very lightly.
Just like her action of lowering her head to read carefully.
It was a new contract about their “partnership.”
Lu Jia read from top to bottom, all the way to the sixth clause, which was identical to the original—or unchanged word for word.
Her gaze swept further down and paused on the seventh clause:
During the term of this contract, both parties shall ensure that they do not develop ambiguous feelings of attraction, including but not limited to infatuation, toward any other person. Violation by either party shall immediately void this contract.
Lu Jia lowered her eyes, slowly parsing the meaning.
It was actually quite straightforward.
Either touch the body, or touch the heart—only one or the other.
Lu Jia didn’t think she’d ever fallen for anyone. At most, her heart raced occasionally around Sheng Shubai.
But those palpitations had no clear cause, and after checking on a certain search engine, she got a result of arrhythmia.
With late nights and intense “exercise” both factors, the symptoms made sense, so Lu Jia didn’t dwell on it.
Gripping the edge of the contract paper, she held it closer.
She read it earnestly from start to finish, and when her gaze returned to the seventh clause, she still paused for a few seconds.
This new contract only added that one clause.
Lu Jia turned to the woman beside her: “Miss Sheng, did your friend draft this contract too?”
Sheng Shubai gave her a sidelong glance: “Do you want a fourth person to know?”
Lu Jia was about to ask who the third person was when she recalled the meaningful look Sheng Shuyun had given her when leaving the Sheng Family home.
She said nothing more, spread the contract back on the coffee table, and signed her name meticulously in the Party B spot. She glanced at the left side—the woman’s handwriting was still bold and flowing.
Sheng Shubai lowered her eyes to watch Lu Jia sign, her emotions indescribable.
How could she not know that attraction couldn’t be restrained by a couple of lines on paper?
To put it bluntly, with any other partner, she wouldn’t bother adding such a pointless clause.
After all, if real feelings developed, as long as one didn’t admit it or acted convincingly enough, the other wouldn’t notice.
Lu Jia was different.
After months of acquaintance and countless intimacies, the girl still knew her boundaries.
Very obedient, with a rigid seriousness—Sheng Shubai believed Lu Jia would never deceive her.
But it was only “different” to that extent.
That night in Z City, when Sheng Shuyun had seemingly joked but actually pierced through her subtle favoritism and fondness, had first planted the idea of adding the clause.
These past few days back in Z City, three or four days without seeing Lu Jia.
Yet Sheng Shubai had dreamed of the girl alone with her night after night—soft, beautiful eyes downcast, held in her arms as she leaned down to kiss her.
Soft, sweet moans spilling out, unable to resist teasing her in the dream.
Waking at dawn, she swiped two bottles of Sheng Shuyun’s fine liquor and stayed at her little aunt’s grave until morning light faintly dawned.
She disliked the feeling of losing control.
Nor did she believe that any so-called fondness or attraction could last amid life’s constant changes.
She didn’t believe in true feelings, nor did she want them.
Better to lay it all out clearly—as a reminder to herself and a warning to Lu Jia not to harbor improper thoughts.
She hadn’t missed those occasional heartbeats when they were pressed close together.
She could turn a blind eye, chalking it up to fleeting flutters for a girl inexperienced in love, but only to that extent.
Originally, the new clause was just going to say “Prohibited from falling for each other.”
But on second thought, it was too obvious and didn’t satisfy her intent.
She truly scorned others’ true hearts.
But she also didn’t want to see the day when the little blockhead who kissed and embraced and made love with her one second suddenly claimed her heart belonged to someone else—that all those intimate bed words were meant for another.
She wouldn’t allow it.
Even as mere bed partners, she could only belong to her alone.
Her thoughts in turmoil, Sheng Shubai’s gaze darkened as she quietly waited for Lu Jia to ask why.
Why add such a clause suddenly?
What right did she have to meddle so broadly, prohibiting feelings for others?
She even had a prepared answer, delivered casually: “On this trip back to Z City, a friend had a nasty fallout with her kept celebrity over something similar. We’re in a partnership too, so it’s better to spell it out upfront.”
But Lu Jia didn’t ask.
Not until she finished signing, capped the pen, and neatly arranged the two types of contracts—four copies total, two each—on the coffee table. Only then did Lu Jia raise her eyes again, the clear drunken haze in them thinned to a shallow layer.
“Miss Sheng, I’ve signed.”
Lu Jia softly reminded the woman who was lost in thought.
No curiosity, no questions.
As if it were all perfectly natural—even if Sheng Shubai hadn’t specifically asked, Lu Jia might not have read the contract thoroughly.
Lu Jia waited a few seconds with no response from Sheng Shubai.
Just as she was about to speak, a sudden force yanked her into a familiar embrace, pain from sucking and biting blooming on her lips.
She obediently parted them, letting the woman’s tongue push in, wet and soft.
Her lip was bitten open again.
The bead of blood had already melted into their kiss, a faint rusty metallic taste quickly buried in the sweet, warm scent, leaving only a subtle sting.
It was soothed with a lick, leaving a faint scab.
They showered together, and once in the woman’s master bedroom, Lu Jia sensed something different about tonight.
Or rather, very different.
It still started with kissing, fingertips tracing inch by inch over her cheeks, then kneading her earlobe.
Sliding to her neck, but lingering there instead of going lower, rubbing repeatedly.
She naturally swallowed during the kiss, her throat clearly pressed by the web of the hand.
Until Sheng Shubai’s long, beautiful hand gripped the side of her neck, lightly choking—Lu Jia trembled but didn’t refuse.
Her tightly closed eyelashes trembled in the dim light, like two frail butterfly wings in the night.
“It’s okay.”
Sensing the hesitation from the person above her, Lu Jia whispered.
It’s okay… to use a bit more force.
Her breathy words floated into the bedroom’s darkness, light and directionless.
Her usually steady throat only rose and fell faintly with breathing. Now it was like a fragile twig, gripped in the palm to be handled at will.
Sheng Shubai’s gaze deepened darkly, but she didn’t grant the girl’s wish.
Instead, she slowly released her fingers, sparing the pale, slender neck before her.
Then, the moment Lu Jia opened her eyes in confusion, she covered them.
Lu Jia was too obedient tonight—obedient enough that Sheng Shubai wanted to push even further.
Two prominent sucking kisses in a row, pressed right along the carotid edge. It hurt enough that Lu Jia hissed softly, physiological tears welling at her eyes and smearing on the inner palm covering them.
As the wetness trailed downward and Lu Jia instinctively arched up, the lights suddenly came on.
Illuminating clearly her earlier murmurs asking Sheng Shubai to go harder, and the pajamas scattered on the bed corner or carpet.
“Brighter, don’t you like it more that way too?”
Sheng Shubai chuckled lowly.
Her warm breath deliberately brushed her earlobe—Lu Jia’s most sensitive spot.
