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Chapter 14 — Slender Fingers Slowly Caress the Neck…

Under the man’s deep, probing gaze, Lin Keying could only return to her room’s wardrobe and fish out that promotional necktie she had tucked away in a dusty corner.

“Young Master, this tie probably only cost two dollars,” Lin Keying tried to remind the man—this tie was cheap and unworthy of someone with his prestigious status. Did he really want to wear it?

“Hmm.” Cheng Wanting lowered his gaze and swept over the woman’s slender fingers. The dark red striped tie was crudely made—its cheapness obvious at a glance—yet in this moment, it contrasted beautifully against her jade-like palms.

Those slender, jade-like fingers slowly brushed up to his neck, separated only by a thin white shirt. The clear, warm touch flitted past fleetingly until the deep red tie encircled his collar.

Along with it came the woman’s faint fragrance as she stood on tiptoes to get closer, an invisible net tightly enclosing him, entangling him from head to toe.

To tie the knot properly, Lin Keying had no choice but to lean in on her toes. Her fingers nimbly fluttered, quickly forming a neat Windsor knot. After all, she had been an office worker in her past life—she’d received formal training in professional attire and etiquette.

Although the tie was poorly made, when worn on the neck of her dashing fiancé, it somehow looked far more valuable.

Lin Keying proudly admired her handiwork, a faint smile tugging at the corners of her lips as she looked up, about to gloat, only to see the man’s expression stiffen. His face suddenly darkened, his breath deepened noticeably, and without a word, he turned and walked away.

Lin Keying: “…”

Not even a thank you? How rude!

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For the next three days in a row, Lin Keying was summoned every evening to the second-floor study, where she sat on the sofa to learn Cantonese.

Her infuriating fiancé busied himself with documents but wouldn’t let her read gossip magazines. From time to time, he’d insist she ask him questions, and whenever she couldn’t think of any, he’d make sarcastic, deadpan comments.

“You sure asked plenty of questions to other people—nothing to ask now?”

“Aren’t you always out and about during the day? Don’t tell me you’re not studying?”

Thus, Lin Keying didn’t dare go out during the daytime these few days—she truly couldn’t figure out what had gotten into this man!

She could only buckle down and diligently prepare questions, immersing herself in every aspect of Cantonese: listening, speaking, reading, and writing.

Fortunately, though her fiancé was stern and humorless (unlike Dr. Huo, who had been more witty and charming), he was still highly educated, with an unmistakable scholarly air. Even his emotionless explanations were convincing, especially with his deep voice—like pinecones buried under freshly fallen winter snow—that seemed to tickle her ears as he spoke.

His voice correcting her Cantonese pronunciation echoed repeatedly through the study. Gradually, Lin Keying’s Cantonese improved, and the distance between her and her fiancé also seemed to shrink.

Each time he taught, her fiancé would leave the rosewood desk and come sit on the sofa, only a fist’s distance from her, carefully and patiently explaining and correcting her.

Whenever he did, Lin Keying could catch a faint, cool scent—deep like sandalwood, understated yet somehow striking and impossible to ignore.

His voice was magnetic, and her thoughts drifted—she wondered if he was wearing some kind of men’s cologne? It actually smelled quite nice.

However, the man’s sharp gaze could instantly catch her distraction. His long, slender fingers would subtly curl, knocking twice on the coffee table, snapping Lin Keying back to attention.

She turned her head and gave him a sheepish smile, dimples forming at the corners of her lips. Her gaze then slid downward, landing on the white shirt stretched taut across his broad chest due to his upright posture, faintly revealing the contours of a fine physique.

“Read this section.” Her fiancé only spoke Cantonese with her in the study and always slowed his speech deliberately.

“Oh.” Lin Keying nodded and began reading aloud from a children’s textbook with picture-word examples in Cantonese.

Her crisp, soft voice floated gently into the air like a mild breeze brushing past the windows, soothing and pleasant, making one unconsciously relax.

Cheng Wanting lowered his gaze and looked at the woman’s profile as she sat beside him. She focused intently on the book in her hands, her clear eyes utterly pure, as transparent as water.

Only when she was daydreaming or zoning out would those almond-shaped eyes suddenly light up—like a cunning little fox scheming something—her eyes curving sweetly, lips tilting upward.

Just like now—after finishing her basic word reading, Lin Keying, seeing her fiancé return to his desk, sneakily drifted off again.

In a few days, she’d be taking a boat back to the mainland. Before leaving, she intended to invest in a few promising Hong Kong stocks—no rush to sell, and once they doubled in the future, they’d become her retirement nest egg.

Her memory was a bit hazy, but she vaguely recalled someone in the 70s or 80s investing in Hong Kong stocks and, after leaving them untouched for over a decade, becoming a multimillionaire.

On a sheet of paper filled with traditional Chinese characters, eight stock names danced across the page. The promising ones that would endure into the future were likely among them.

Struggling to recall the exact answers, Lin Keying lightly bit the tip of her pen and pondered, sensing a probing gaze suddenly fall upon her.

It felt like being caught slacking off by the dean in school. She hurriedly feigned calm, hiding the paper listing the stock names beneath the book pages, tucking stray hair behind her ear and propping her chin on her hand, pretending to study intently. Only when that gaze lingered for a moment and gradually faded did she relax.

Just then, Aunt Mei arrived with a bowl of sweet soup and a fruit platter, easing Lin Keying’s tension.

She got up to open the door, her nose catching a sweet aroma—it was a bowl of sweet potato soup and a plate of watermelon.

The orange-red sweet potatoes had been chopped into chunks and simmered with a few lily bulbs and red dates. One bite offered soft, fragrant sweetness. The syrup infused every fiber with delicate sweetness—especially refreshing on a summer night.

Ever since she had been coming to the study, a bowl of sweet soup had been served every evening. At first, Lin Keying politely offered some to her fiancé, but seeing he truly didn’t like such things, she had since devoured it guilt-free.

After downing a bowl of sweet soup and a few slices of chilled watermelon, Lin Keying tidied up the dishes and brought them downstairs. By the time she returned to the study, it was “dismissal” time.

“Young Master, I won’t disturb your work any longer. I’ll head down now.”

“Hmm.” Cheng Wanting still sat behind the rosewood desk, seemingly indifferent to whether she stayed or left.

Lin Keying quickly packed her books and papers and left, almost giddy with the liberation of a student dismissed from school. Her light steps danced a merry rhythm on the hardwood stairs.

By her calculation, in three more days she’d graduate completely—no more lessons!

When she organized her study materials, Lin Keying casually flipped to the draft paper from earlier, only to discover that two of the eight stocks she had listed had been circled—and two others had been crossed out.

Lin Keying’s almond eyes widened in disbelief. She glanced up at the ceiling—had someone marked them while she was downstairs?

A personal hint from a wealthy tycoon… surely it was trustworthy, right?!

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