Chapter 7: Recharging  

She thought, she thought…  

Hmph, Shen Simo believed all fashion shoots worldwide should hire her as their model. She thought everyone on earth should give her one yuan to help her become a billionaire—that way, she could afford to buy property and start a business in Shanghai.  

Though the afternoon tea with the Lu brothers had been like navigating an open-world instance—full of hidden traps with no chance to restart—the rewards had been substantial. The entire afternoon, Lu Huailin had been locked in a battle of one-upmanship with Lu Huaichuan.  

The competitive spirit between men was truly terrifying.  

The elder brother treated them to afternoon tea, so the younger brother insisted on shopping. The elder casually picked up a dress to hold against Shen Simo, while the younger pointed at a pair of high heels and told the sales associate to ring them up.  

Shen Simo was like a doll in a dress-up game, completely at their mercy.  

Standing at her doorstep, she stared blankly at the keyhole, trying to free a hand to dig through her shoulder bag for the keys. But her left hand was weighed down by five large shopping bags, and her right held a jewelry case. She couldn’t bear to set the bags down on the dusty, foot-trafficked tiles.  

With no other choice, Shen Simo kicked the door. The sound of hurried footsteps immediately echoed from the other side of the security door.  

“Who is it?”  

“Me, Shen Simo.”  

Li Xue opened the door, dumbfounded, blocking the entryway. She pointed at the bags in Shen Simo’s hands, scratched her head, and kept licking her dry lips, stammering, “Y-you… didn’t you go for an audition?”  

“Yeah, an audition. Then I ran into Lu Huaichuan.” Deliberately omitting the part where he helped her land a job, she switched into slippers and carried her treasures into the living room, piling all the shopping bags onto the coffee table. “Lu Huaichuan bought you a gift and asked me to bring it to you.”  

At these words, Li Xue’s furrowed brows instantly relaxed. She trailed behind Shen Simo, peering left and right. “There’s something for me too? Really?”  

Of course it wasn’t true. Lu Huailin didn’t know her, and Lu Huaichuan had never even asked about her—there was no reason for him to give her a gift.  

Both presents were bought by Shen Simo herself. First, to keep Li Xue from gossiping, and second, to give her some sense of involvement in this relationship—after all, it was through Li Xue’s introduction that Shen Simo had met a big shot like Lu Huaichuan.  

“Of course! What’s our relationship? This is nothing.” Shen Simo motioned for Li Xue to sit beside her and handed her one of the bags containing a cashmere scarf and a necklace. “He said this color would definitely suit you.”  

Li Xue held her breath as she carefully unwrapped the elegant, understated packaging, reluctant to even tear the wrapping paper. She peeled back the tape bit by bit, wiped her sweaty palms on her pajama pants, and finally lifted out the camel-colored cashmere scarf, marveling at it under the natural light, her eyes sparkling with joy.  

Shen Simo continued, “There’s also a necklace. That one’s from me—the one we saw while shopping a while back.”

Li Xue pursed her lips, her eyes slowly turning red as tears welled up in them. Clutching the scarf to her chest, she sat beside Shen Simo and said in a choked voice, “Simo, you’re so kind. This is the first time I’ve ever received such an expensive gift! That necklace was something we saw while window shopping before we even graduated. It’s been over a year, and you still remembered. Even my parents wouldn’t pay this much attention to me.”

Before she could burst into sobs, Shen Simo flopped onto the couch with a thud, yawning as she scrolled through her messages, afraid to miss any from brands while casually rejecting Lu Huaichuan’s invitation to be his oil painting model.

Who knew what strange aesthetic preferences this man might impose on her? Shen Simo did need money, but she wasn’t desperate enough to dive into such ventures, nor did she want to “devote herself to art.”

*”Artistic creations require large chunks of time, right? Really sorry, but brands are preparing their spring collections for next year, so work is piling up. Once things settle down, I’ll gladly come to your studio and be your model properly!”*

Lu Huaichuan read Shen Simo’s rejection message but felt neither disappointment nor sadness—it was exactly what he had expected.  

After all, his last exhibition had featured only one portrait, and that painting carried an overwhelmingly bold artistic flair. She must have assumed he intended to paint her in a similarly provocative style.  

Lu Huaichuan had to admit, he *had* entertained that idea—even planned to hide the finished piece in the deepest storage room of his studio, away from anyone’s eyes. He had already cleaned that room spotless in preparation.  

But given their current relationship, he could only bury that thought deep inside. Scaring off the little rabbit wouldn’t do any good.  

Tossing his phone aside, he picked up his palette and brush, continuing to refine the emerging figure on the canvas. He paid no mind to the paint smeared on his apron or face, wholly focused on tracing the strands of hair and fluttering hemline caught in the evening breeze.  

This was the scene from their first dinner together—right before he sent her off in a taxi. One hand held a bouquet of roses, the other tamed wind-tousled locks as she leaned slightly forward to bid him farewell.  

Every time the breeze brushed past, a faint jasmine-like fragrance would drift across his face.  

He inhaled deeply. The scent of orange peel oil filled his nostrils—nowhere near as sweet as jasmine, but still better than the pungent reek of turpentine.  

As he painted, Lu Huaichuan reminisced about Shen Simo—from their first meeting to the woman now standing under the spotlight. She had never treated him differently because of his leg, nor had she ever looked at him with pity.  

Especially during those fleeting seconds when she pushed his wheelchair in a mad dash through the exhibition hall. For the first time since the accident, he had felt a taste of the freedom he once knew—one he sorely missed.  

The man chuckled softly, his dark eyes fixed entirely on the painting before him. If only she could stay here, by his side, unseen by anyone—just like his artwork.  

*Ding!*  

The phone he’d tossed aside shattered the silence—his alarm had gone off.  

Lu Huaichuan immediately turned on the TV, casting Lu Yong’s livestream onto the screen that took up half the wall.

“Good evening, everyone. Of course, I’m always punctual! Let’s continue from where we left off yesterday and play until 10:30, then spend the last half-hour chatting.”

He turned down the TV volume and pulled up a call recording from his phone, repeatedly comparing the two similar female voices—the same breath patterns, the same pauses. Lu HuaiChuan grew increasingly certain of his suspicion.

How heartbroken would his dear younger brother be if he inadvertently exposed Shen Simo’s carefully hidden identity in front of Lu HuaiLin? And what expression would Shen Simo wear? Surprise? Nervousness? Or perhaps fear? Whatever it might be, it would surely be breathtakingly beautiful.

At this thought, Lu HuaiChuan’s breathing grew ragged.

He wheeled his chair closer to the TV, caressing the game character through the screen. “Don’t worry, this is a secret just between the two of us. I’ll never tell a soul.”