Chapter 9: Playing Tricks  

Shen Simo leaned against the doorframe with her arms crossed, glancing sideways at the two people deep in the shop who were getting along harmoniously. For some reason, she felt inexplicably irritated.  

She took a deep breath and turned her head toward the quiet, windless street, then let out a loud snort before pricking up her ears to listen to the cheerful sounds inside the room.  

The shop owner’s daughter probably wasn’t much younger than Shen Simo—she looked like she was in college.  

Pursing her lips, Shen Simo muttered to herself, “Hmph, what a gentle big brother. Such a touching sibling bond. I’ve never seen someone so obsessed with being an older brother—playing the role at home and outside too…”  

Lu HuaiChuan removed the sketch paper from the drawing board and handed it to the young model sitting across from him with both hands. “Mm… it’s done.”  

“Wow, thank you, Teacher Lu! I’m going to frame this and hang it by my bed.” The girl blushed and said, “Teacher Lu, I’m already a freshman in college this year. Don’t treat me like a kid anymore.”  

“You’re 18, and I’m 27. If you’re not a kid, then what are you? A big kid?” He patted the girl’s head as she crouched beside his wheelchair. “My sister and I are heading out now.”  

She sighed in disappointment, glanced toward the door, and reluctantly nodded before handing the art supplies in a cloth bag to Shen Simo. Fortunately, she didn’t give Shen Simo any hostile looks.  

By the time the two of them left the art supply store, the sun was already setting.  

Lu HuaiLin carried the art supplies and Shen Simo’s handbag, looking in an exceptionally good mood. The corners of his lips curled upward as he kept tilting his head to glance at Shen Simo from below.  

“Is there something on my face?” Shen Simo asked.  

“Nope, still as beautiful as ever.” He shook his head, then turned slightly with an apologetic expression. “Is it too heavy? We’ll be home soon. I can push the wheelchair myself.”  

“Are you sure?”  

Though she said that, Shen Simo immediately left Lu HuaiChuan behind, casually picking up the handbag from his lap and standing obediently to the side, giving the man in the wheelchair an innocent look.  

Lu HuaiChuan clearly froze for a moment. He blinked, forcing a dry laugh before replying, “Yeah, of course it’s fine. Before Duan Yu became my assistant, I always pushed the wheelchair myself.”  

Shen Simo walked quietly beside him, stealing glances at his already strained arms and the beads of sweat forming at his Temple acupoint. She turned her head away, stifling her laughter.  

Lu HuaiChuan still had a large canvas bag resting on his lap. Not only did he have to struggle to push the wheelchair, but he also had to keep the bag balanced.  

Watching him in such a sorry state made Shen Simo even more pleased.  

She knew all too well the little pride men had in trying to act tough. So she deliberately tested him again, asking, “Lu HuaiChuan, let me carry the canvas bag. Isn’t this too much for you?”  

“No need. It’s not heavy. I can handle it.” He was practically panting from exhaustion, barely managing to reply between breaths.  

“Alright then…”  

Even so, the thought of this man making her wait for hours in that stuffy art supply store still annoyed her.  

So she casually flipped her hair, took out a small fan from the pocket at the back of the wheelchair, and “thoughtfully” blew air toward Lu HuaiChuan. “Why don’t you get an electric wheelchair? Back in my hometown, you often see elderly men zipping around on electric wheelchairs at the market, going almost as fast as electric scooters. They look so cool.”

Lu Huaichuan’s face alternated between red and pale, yet he maintained his usual smile. But Shen Simo saw it—she saw the slight twitch at the corner of his lips, the faint furrow of his brows, and even the subdued anger flickering in his dark eyes.  

Shen Simo leaned down, wiping the sweat from his temples before moving behind him to push his wheelchair again. “Lu Huaichuan, am I really that unreliable? Even though I’m five years younger than you, relying on me isn’t something to be ashamed of. Don’t you think so?”  

Lu Huaichuan didn’t answer.  

The two remained silent until they returned to the spot where they had met that afternoon. Just as Shen Simo was about to leave, Lu Huaichuan suddenly grabbed her wrist and pulled her close. “This is my studio. Come in for a while.”  

Shen Simo glanced at the small Western-style house behind him and firmly refused. But Lu Huaichuan didn’t let go—instead, his grip tightened, his palm damp with sweat, her wrist already turning red.  

“I have a shoot tomorrow morning. I need to get home early tonight.”  

“Then stay here.”  

“That… wouldn’t be appropriate…”  

Besides, she still had a livestream scheduled for the evening. Her recent streaming numbers had just started improving, and she needed to capitalize on the momentum.  

“Brother, it’s not that I don’t trust you, but today really isn’t a good time. I’m a bit particular about beds—if I don’t sleep well, I won’t look good on camera tomorrow. I know Duan Yu isn’t here, so things might be inconvenient. How about this? As soon as I finish shooting tomorrow, I’ll come straight to you. Tell me what you’d like to eat, and I’ll bring it when I come. Okay?”  

Having said all that, Shen Simo was sure he wouldn’t have the heart to refuse. She was already celebrating her victory in her mind.  

Sure enough, Lu Huaichuan lowered his eyes, his shoulders slumping slightly. “Can you at least take me inside?”  

Shen Simo pushed him through the meticulously maintained garden, carefully navigating the slope before bringing him to the entrance on the first floor.  

Out of politeness, she didn’t look further inside.  

Lu Huaichuan said, “No need to take off your shoes. The storage room is at the end of the hallway, the left-side door. Just leave the bag there.”  

She nodded and did as instructed.  

Inside the villa, a massive crystal chandelier hung from the nearly three-story-high ceiling, refracting the sunset streaming through the floor-to-ceiling windows and bathing the entire living room in a golden glow.  

Shen Simo kept her gaze forward as she walked briskly toward the storage room. But the moment she pushed open the wooden door, she froze again.  

The storage room was spotless. Canvases were neatly arranged by size beneath the windowsill, while brushes, paints, and thinners were organized by packaging color on the shelves.  

Shen Simo felt as if her mere presence would disrupt the room’s aesthetic. After placing the cloth bag against the wall by the door, she quickly closed it and retreated sheepishly.  

“Does Duan Yu usually organize all the rooms?” she asked.  

“No, I do it myself. There’s also a cleaning lady.” Lu Huaichuan handed her a glass of iced lemon water. “Sorry for making you wait so long at the art supply store.”  

“This afternoon was yours to begin with.”  

“Mm. Since it was my time, then this should at least earn a smile from the beauty.”  

From behind his back, he produced a sketchbook and opened it before her. On the page was a drawing of her leaning against the doorframe, gazing wistfully at the street.

The Shen Simo depicted in Lu HuaiChuan’s writings was vastly different from her real self. In his illustrations, her brows were furrowed with a melancholic expression, like a blooming flower on the verge of withering.  

“Go back early,” he said softly, stroking her head. “See you tonight.”