Chapter 9: I’m Not a Pervert

Late at night, Su Nian was still awake.

After showering, she played with her Barbie dolls for a while and wandered around the room.

Everything felt novel.

Even the piano was pink.

She sat down in front of it and pressed a key.

“Do!”

The sound was crisp and bright.

It had been tuned. But afraid of disturbing others, Su Nian closed the piano lid.

“Why did you stop playing?”

The man’s tone was teasing.

Su Nian hadn’t locked the door—hadn’t even latched it.

She was clearly waiting for him.

Old Master Zhou didn’t know about their relationship, but she had to keep a clear head.

Su Nian stood up from the piano bench. “I didn’t want to bother anyone.”

Zhou Beiming didn’t approach her. He stood lazily against the wall, arms crossed, long legs casually overlapped.

The girl wore a pink nightgown—long-sleeved, past the knees, very modest.

Who had such terrible taste? He wanted to strip it off.

Zhou Beiming chuckled. “There’s no one else here.”

His eyes glinted with mischief. “We can do whatever we want.”

Su Nian gave him a soft, reproachful look. He was always inappropriate—his mind filled with only one thing.

Zhou Beiming spoke again. “Play something. I want to hear it.”

Su Nian sat back down and played “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star.”

The tune was simple, her fingers skilled.

After all, she had been raised like a product to be sold at a high price. Her Father had invested in her—music, chess, calligraphy, painting—she had certifications in all of them.

She chose that piece because it was short.

She was tired and still had a thesis to write tomorrow.

When the music stopped, Zhou Beiming could tell she hadn’t played sincerely.

He straightened up, tall and lean, and walked toward her with an unhurried pace. “That’s all you can play?”

Su Nian sat upright. “What would you like to hear?”

Zhou Beiming pinched her chin, gently scratching it like he was teasing a pet. “So whatever I want to hear, you’ll play?”

Su Nian lowered her gaze. “If I know it, I’ll play it.”

Zhou Beiming stared at her obedient expression. She’d always been like this—it hadn’t meant much before.

But now she was this obedient in front of others too.

It annoyed him. “Forget it. Even someone playing cotton would sound better than you.”

Su Nian didn’t argue. If others were better than her, then so be it.

The more Zhou Beiming looked at her, the deeper his frown became. “Why are you so obedient?”

Was that a bad thing?

Someone like her had to be obedient to avoid being abandoned.

Zhou Beiming, a man who treated others like playthings, would never understand.

Su Nian lowered her eyes and changed the subject. “Are we going to sleep?”

Just going through the motions.

The air above her head grew still.

She removed the expensive jewelry and returned them to him.

If she lost them, she couldn’t afford to pay him back.

The Su family wouldn’t help either—she’d rot in prison.

The bracelet, earrings, and necklace—three pieces—were neatly arranged atop the piano keys.

The keys were pink and white, the gemstones mature and out of place.

Su Nian sat quietly, feeling the atmosphere grow heavier.

Suddenly, a jarring clatter of discordant noise echoed sharply.

Zhou Beiming had come up behind her, placing both hands on the keys, trapping her between his body and the piano.

“How about we do it here? You play while I move?”

Clearly, he was making things difficult. Su Nian’s fingers fidgeted nervously.

She accepted her fate. “Whatever you want.”

Seeing no objection, Zhou Beiming let out a cold laugh. “Such confidence—let’s try it, then? I want to hear ‘Mariage d’Amour.’”

With that, he casually swept the jewelry to the side.

The gem-encrusted necklace dangled precariously off the edge.

Su Nian reached out to catch it, but her hand was caught by his—beautiful, yet reckless.

Their fingers laced together.

Clink.

“Several thousand kilos worth of cash” fell to the floor with a dull thud.

While Su Nian’s eyes were still on the necklace, Zhou Beiming had already leaned over her.

He pulled her up from the bench, grabbed the back of her neck, and effortlessly turned her around, pressing her against the pink piano. He began kissing her fiercely from her throat upwards.

Su Nian struggled to find support, her slender hands pressing down on the keys.

Her throat felt full, and under her palms, the chaotic notes were dissonant and wild. She couldn’t recall a single note of “Mariage d’Amour.”

Her clothes were being stripped away with practiced ease—Zhou Beiming didn’t care whether she played or not.

But then, all at once, everything froze. The air. Zhou Beiming’s passion.

He asked stiffly, “You’re on your period?”

Su Nian had been swept up in the moment. Her mind went blank like a bomb had gone off.

Her pale little face flushed a vivid red in an instant.

It was supposed to come next week.

Why now? She had just showered, and there had been no sign.

Zhou Beiming’s body went rigid.

Su Nian’s head was still buzzing.

In a voice barely louder than a mosquito, she murmured, “Sorry, I didn’t know it would come early.”

Zhou Beiming snapped out of it, his expression darkening.

The mood turned awkward.

Su Nian’s face grew redder. Her fingers dug into the soft seam along the edge of the piano.

The seam was made of soft material—yielding under her touch.

The air hung heavy.

Suddenly, her body was lifted off the ground.

Startled, Su Nian cried out, “What are you doing?”

Did he still want to…?

This time, Su Nian wanted to refuse. “Tonight—”

A cold, sharp glare from him, and she wisely shut her mouth.

Forget it.

He could do as he pleased.

Zhou Beiming carried her toward the bathroom. The door slammed shut behind them with a kick. Su Nian sat on the sink counter.

This wasn’t a new position.

Everywhere in Zhou Beiming’s place bore traces of their entanglement.

Su Nian spread her legs.

Zhou Beiming’s dark eyes flashed with confusion—then realization struck. “Su Nian!”

The words burst from between his clenched teeth.

The pain made Su Nian actually show some emotion. “What exactly do you want?”

He was angry at her, but suddenly paused, his expression no longer as stormy.

He flicked her forehead gently, his voice less harsh. “I’m not a pervert. I’m trying to figure out how to deal with this situation!”

Only then did Su Nian realize she had misunderstood.

But Zhou Beiming’s words were so crude that her face turned beet red, like she was being boiled alive.

She quickly hopped down from the counter. “I’ll go out and buy some pads.”

Zhou Beiming hooked his finger through the back collar of her nightgown like picking up a chick and hauled her back. “Go like that? Are you serious?”

His disdainful eyes scanned her. “You think the old man thinks you’re still two years old?”

Muttering under his breath, he didn’t even bother to bend down. Instead, he lifted his foot to hook open the cabinet under the sink.

It was empty—nothing prepared.

Zhou Beiming pulled out his phone and made a call. “A Xuan, go buy—”

Mid-sentence, he abruptly stopped. His gaze had fallen on the lower half of Su Nian’s body.

That thing was for there.

Sending another man to buy it—it didn’t sit right with him.

Su Nian, aware of his intense stare, instinctively clamped her legs together.

Zhou Beiming ended the call without warning.

He asked, “What kind do you need? I’ll go.”