In the first month after being forcefully taken by President Jun, Cheng Yan’s life hadn’t changed much.
—Except for her nightlife.
Now that she had a nightlife, and a harmonious one at that, her ability to focus the following day seemed to improve.
Throughout the summer break, her days were mostly condensed into her life at school. She was either in the library or the laboratory, busy with lab work on one hand and the competition on the other.
The competition’s progress was relatively smooth, but as for the lab work, the more deeply involved Cheng Yan became, the more she felt her inadequacy.
It wasn’t that she wasn’t smart or hardworking enough; it was just a gap created by time that she couldn’t easily bridge all at once.
Undergraduates who could join a professor’s lab team were exceedingly rare. Cheng Yan had caught the professor’s eye and was permitted to come to the lab to study and help. During this time, she was rigorous and diligent, and had never made a mistake.
But that didn’t mean she could perform the work with effortless ease.
That day, she was called into the professor’s office. The professor handed her a card.
“This is?” Cheng Yan took it, noticing the invitation letter on it, and asked, puzzled.
“An international biopharmaceutical summit. I’ll be taking my students there. You’ll come with me, listen in, and learn something.”
Cheng Yan clutched the invitation and said, “Thank you, Professor.”
Having thanked him, she did not rush to leave. Instead, she laid out her plan: “Professor, when the new semester starts in September, I plan to focus on my studies first. I might not be able to come to the lab anymore.”
The professor asked, “Feeling overwhelmed?”
Cheng Yan wasn’t surprised the professor saw through it. She nodded. “Yes. I feel like I need to study more, to settle down and solidify my foundation. Otherwise, continuing in the lab like this… over time, it’ll feel like neglecting the essentials for the trifles, just spinning my wheels.”
The professor smiled with relief. “It’s good that you have this thought. Actually, I also intended for you to leave the lab when you became a sophomore. Over the past six months, your experimental techniques and data classification skills have been sharpened. But if you want to go further and engage in in-depth research, what you need most is the support of knowledge. As for learning in the lab, there’s no rush to return later.”
“Have you planned your future career path?” the professor asked.
“Take some of your seniors, for example. After graduation, some work for biopharmaceutical companies, some continue their studies and pursue an academic research path, and others start their own businesses with great energy…” the professor said. “There are many roads ahead for your future. Have you ever thought about these questions?”
“Yes, I have,” Cheng Yan said. “Barring any surprises, I think I would very much enjoy focusing on academic research.”
The professor nodded. “It’s good that you have ideas. What young people fear most is having talent but not knowing how to plan and use it, letting it go to waste. Such a pity, such a pity.”
Cheng Yan thanked her. “Thank you, Professor.”
Exiting the office, Cheng Yan let out a sigh of relief.
She planned to start taking junior-year courses during her sophomore year. If time allowed, she wanted to complete her undergraduate requirements early.
After her bachelor’s degree, she would definitely pursue a master’s and a doctorate. But Cheng Yan was planning to study abroad for that, so there would be even more tasks to juggle later on.
Calculating it this way, it feels like the coming days will just be a desperate race against the clock, doesn’t it?
But then again, not necessarily. I don’t feel particularly exhausted yet, Cheng Yan thought.
—
On the day of the international summit, Cheng Yan deliberately put on a suit. The cream-colored women’s suit sharpened her aura, making her look more mature.
She departed from the university with her professor. After arriving at the venue, they presented their invitations and entered the conference hall.
The professor had a seat in the front rows. Cheng Yan and a few senior students found seats in the rows behind. After waiting about twenty minutes, the conference began.
“So many impressive figures.”
“It’s all in English. My ears could barely keep up with that speech speed.”
“Listening for an hour, I feel like my brain is going to melt.”
“Isn’t there a break? I’m starving! I admit it, I’m just an academic locust.”
After an hour of intense focus, Cheng Yan felt a bit tired as well, and relaxed her mind, listening as the seniors chatted around her.
“Ooh, ooh, who’s this coming on stage? Such an imposing presence?”
A senior next to her poked Cheng Yan’s arm and whispered, “Look at the next speaker. Her aura is absolutely stunning. Like a real boss.”
This section was for corporate speeches, which was why Cheng Yan had lowered her head to relax.
Hearing the senior’s words, she looked up towards the stage.
Just then, the microphone in the conference hall transmitted a familiar voice.
Cheng Yan stared at the woman speaking from the center of the stage, dressed in an elegantly tailored dark blue suit, and her gaze was instantly transfixed.
The senior beside her was still talking: “Her surname seems to be Jun? Is she related to the Jun Group? It’s a pity photos are banned inside the venue, I can’t ask.”
Cheng Yan wasn’t listening to her.
Her gaze was entirely fixed on the woman commanding the stage with such confidence and power.
A Jun Jianqing so dazzlingly radiant was truly a rare sight.
It wasn’t until she finished her speech and stepped down from the stage that Cheng Yan withdrew her gaze.
“Did you understand it?” someone beside her asked.
Cheng Yan: “No.”
Her mind hadn’t been on the main points of the speech.
“…Then just now, you were listening so intently.”
Cheng Yan replied righteously, “It’s precisely because I didn’t understand that I had to listen carefully.”
Just then, the intermission arrived. The others were going to group up and act like academic locusts. Cheng Yan parted ways with them to find the restroom.
After returning, she stayed in the hall for another hour or so. The host finally began delivering the closing remarks.
Everyone breathed a collective sigh of relief.
“The professor says she met some acquaintances, so we should wait a bit before leaving.”
Jun Jianqing: 【Come to the underground parking garage.】
Cheng Yan looked up and said, “I won’t be going back with you guys. I have some things to take care of later.”
“Okay, you go on ahead then.”
After the event ended, Cheng Yan followed the instructions and took the elevator down to the underground parking garage.
The conference had just concluded, and traffic in the garage was starting to move.
Cheng Yan looked around. To her front right, a car’s lights flashed. Only then did she realize that Jun Jianqing’s car was nearby.
She jogged over, opened the door, and got in. The partition inside the car was already raised, separating off a private space.
“President Jun, is there something you needed me for?” Cheng Yan asked.
Jun Jianqing’s voice was clear and cool: “Not going back tonight?”
“…” Cheng Yan said, “That was the original plan.”
Jun Jianqing lifted her eyes. “Changed your mind?”
Cheng Yan nodded. “Didn’t you call me here?”
Since President Jun had personally told her to meet her in the underground garage, it naturally meant she wanted her to come along.
She suddenly heard Jun Jianqing laugh lightly, her tone ambiguous. “Don’t tell me you changed your mind the moment you saw me at the conference hall?”
“?”
How did she know?
When she had seen Jun Jianqing sitting high up on the stage, dressed in that elegantly tailored suit, there had indeed been a moment when impure thoughts flashed through her mind.
But she had quickly dispelled them.
Cheng Yan quibbled, “How could that be?”
Jun Jianqing’s gaze settled on her, warm yet profound. Then, she reached up and unbuttoned the top button of the dress shirt beneath her suit jacket. Just like that, casually, she exposed a few inches of her exquisite collarbone.
Subtly drawing someone’s eyes to follow her movements.
She asked, “Do you have a mirror?”
Cheng Yan: “Huh?”
Jun Jianqing said mildly, “Look at the light in your eyes; it’s all leaking out.”
Cheng Yan didn’t believe it.
She didn’t have a mirror, but she opened her phone’s front-facing camera and looked at herself on the screen. Her eyes looked unremarkable.
There certainly wasn’t any “light” that Jun Jianqing spoke of.
Her actions drew a low laugh from Jun Jianqing.
Feeling slightly embarrassed, Cheng Yan didn’t understand what was so funny, nor how Jun Jianqing had guessed that she really had changed her mind halfway through.
She put down her phone and silently pursed her lips.
A cool hand reached up and touched her eyes. It was a bit ticklish. Cheng Yan resisted the instinct to flinch away and heard Jun Jianqing speak: “Every time you see me in formal wear, your eyes get especially bright.”
Was that… an explanation?
Cheng Yan was puzzled. “I hadn’t noticed.”
And more importantly, she was quite good at controlling her emotions.
Could she really be seen through so easily?
For a fleeting moment, Cheng Yan felt a pang of unease.
Jun Jianqing withdrew her hand and said offhandedly, “It doesn’t matter whether you notice or not.”
How does that not matter?!
Cheng Yan tossed her phone aside and let her whole body relax against the backrest of the seat.
She didn’t bother to resist as her hand was guided to rest on the leg of the person beside her—though the hand that guided hers still hadn’t let go.
It wasn’t an intimately intertwined clasp of fingers, but it could still be considered a close fit, palm to palm.
Cheng Yan’s fingers curled slightly. Over the past month or so, she and Jun Jianqing had lost count of how many times they’d gone to home base. But apart from those specific nighttime activities, in proper daylight, they had never been this intimate.
“I’ll just reply to a message.” She quickly pulled her hand free, picked up her phone, tapped on the lit screen, and started typing rapid-fire replies.
Just as she finished, a hand traced its way back over and grasped hers again.
Jun Jianqing asked, “Not used to it?”
It seemed like she was seeking an opinion, as if she’d let go immediately if Cheng Yan said she wasn’t used to it.
But Cheng Yan knew it was all an illusion.
The moment Jun Jianqing had reached out, she wasn’t going to give her a chance to pull away.
Cheng Yan said, “It’s okay.”
The first time had indeed felt a bit unfamiliar.
But when it happened again, she found it wasn’t so bad. She instantly became calm and composed again, letting her hand be held.
It was just that, very quickly, she felt uncomfortable with the sensation of being controlled. Her fingers moved slightly, and in an instant, their positions were reversed—it was now her hand holding Jun Jianqing’s.
Once that shift happened, Cheng Yan’s desire returned in a flash. She found the leisure to start teasing Jun Jianqing.
“It’s just that… this feels quite intimate.”
“Hm?” Jun Jianqing said in a low voice. “We’ve done things far more intimate.”
Cheng Yan’s expression was serious. “That’s different. All those before… those were things I was required to do by the agreement.”
Jun Jianqing’s lips flattened into a line. “Then tell me, what should be done? And what shouldn’t be done?”
Cheng Yan spoke her mind honestly: “President Jun, those things at night are what I, as a mistress, should do. But now, there’s no need for this, so it probably shouldn’t be done.”
Jun Jianqing: “Who set these boundaries?”
“…I did.”
The other party didn’t respond. From the silence, Cheng Yan understood that what she said didn’t count.
She secretly wanted to laugh.
But the sight of that exquisite collarbone flashed before her eyes again. She pressed her lips together, her expression seeming as though she was enduring something, or expressing silent dissatisfaction.
In truth, deep down, she was already wishing for that collar to be opened wider, to bare itself more boldly before her.
Why had she become President Jun’s kept mistress? Wasn’t it precisely for moments like this?
