Chapter 112 Who Dares Bully Lu Lin…

Chapter 112: Who Dares to Bully Lu Lin...

Morning light streamed through the gaps in the curtains, casting fragmented patches on the floor.

Shen Qingci opened his eyes.

He turned his head slightly, looking to the side.

Lu Lin was sleeping soundly, his eyes tightly shut, an unusual flush coloring his face.

The sunlight fell on his face, layering a soft glow over his sharp, handsome features, making him appear less fierce than usual and more vulnerable.

He slept deeply.

So deeply that his breathing was barely audible.

Shen Qingci slowly sat up.

The blanket slipped from his shoulders, and the morning light fell on him without obstruction, revealing his body covered in intimate marks.

His neck, collarbone, chest, waist, and further down—everywhere were deep and shallow red marks, like scattered red plum blossoms on snow, striking to the eye.

He glanced down at his body, his brow faintly furrowing.

Then, he reached for the robe beside him, put it on, and tied the belt.

He leaned on his cane and slowly got out of bed.

When his right leg touched the ground, he paused slightly—the discomfort in his inner thigh still lingered.

But his cold, refined face showed no expression, as if that brief pause was just an illusion.

He walked into the bathroom.

The sound of water rushing could be heard faintly through the door.

When he came out, his hair was slightly tied up, loosely draped over one shoulder.

His face, cold and ethereal, was damp from the steam, making it even paler and more like jade, with his usual detached expression.

He dressed neatly, leaned on his cane, walked to the bedside, and took a look at Lu Lin, who was still fast asleep.

He thought: This kid wore himself out with all that bull energy yesterday, and he's still not up?

He didn't think much of it.

He turned around, leaned on his cane, and walked straight downstairs.

---

Outside, the heavy rain had stopped.

Sunlight poured down from the clouds, flooding the entire courtyard.

The sky seemed to have been thoroughly washed by the rain—clear, pure blue, a blue so vivid it seemed liquid.

The air smelled of that fresh scent unique to after a rain.

Shen Qingci, leaning on his cane, slowly descended the stairs.

Seeing him come down, Uncle Fu immediately stepped forward and respectfully set out the meal on the table.

Shen Qingci took his seat. Uncle Fu's gaze inadvertently passed over him.

Then, he suddenly froze.

On that fair, slender neck, a few intimate red marks were faintly visible, like plum blossoms blooming in the snow—conspicuous and alluring.

Uncle Fu quickly lowered his eyes, not daring to look again.

He silently stepped aside, thinking: The only one who could leave marks on Mr. Shen and still live is probably the young man he's been caring for eight years.

Shen Qingci ate his meal quietly.

He didn't get up and go straight to the company as usual. Instead, he sat at the dining table, tapping his fingers lightly on the surface, one tap after another.

The movement was gentle, conveying a sense of anticipation.

From afar, the roar of a car engine approached.

Closer and closer, clearer by the second.

Shen Qingci's fingers stopped.

He leaned on his cane, stood up, his demeanor composed and regal, and walked over to sit on the sofa.

Uncle Fu brought a freshly brewed cup of coffee and gently placed it by his hand.

Shen Qingci picked it up and took a measured sip.

The bitter liquid slid down his throat, with the rich, mellow flavor of coffee.

Outside, the sound of footsteps grew clearer.

A man entered.

He was dressed in a black suit, around forty or fifty years old, his face marked by seriousness and the authority of a long-held high rank.

His steps were steady, his back straight, exuding an aura that commanded attention.

But when he saw the slender figure on the sofa, his presence immediately softened.

He stepped forward quickly, placed a hand over his chest, and bowed slightly.

His posture was respectful, almost reverent:

"Mr. Shen."

Shen Qingci looked up and gave a faint "hm" in acknowledgment.

He set down his coffee cup and fixed his gaze on the man.

Those cool, clear eyes were calm and unruffled, like an unfathomable deep pond, mirroring the man's reflection.

His thin lips parted, and his voice was as clear and cool as jade:

"You've aged."

Lu Tianjue paused slightly.

He straightened and met Shen Qingci's gaze.

That face hadn’t changed at all from ten years ago.

Still ethereal, almost unreal in its beauty.

He lowered his eyes and replied calmly:

"After all, ten years have passed. Time does leave its mark on your face eventually."

Shen Qingci nodded.

He tilted his chin up slightly, motioning for him to sit.

The gesture carried an air of casual superiority and composure.

Lu Tianjue walked to the sofa opposite and sat down.

He didn't wait for Shen Qingci to ask; instead, he spoke first:

"Lu Changgeng went to see Lu Lin yesterday and they talked for a long time."

His voice was steady, devoid of any emotion:

"But I'm not sure exactly what they discussed. I only know... it has to do with you."

Shen Qingci nodded, his expression unchanged.

Lu Tianjue continued:

"After Lu Lin left, he seemed to be in a good mood, but soon enough he came back."

He paused, recalling the scene:

"The situation was chaotic. Lu Lin brought his guys, trashed the Lu family home, then dragged Lu Changgeng into the study. The two were inside for about half an hour."

"When he came out, Lu Lin wasn't himself."

After saying that, he seemed to realize his words didn't have much substance. A flicker of shame crossed his face, and his tone became apologetic:

"Sorry, my people couldn't get near where they talked, so I couldn't find out more."

Shen Qingci gave a low 'mm-hmm'.

He lowered his lids, his lashes throwing a faint shadow beneath his eyes.

Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling window, falling on his profile and bathing him in a soft halo.

He sat there quietly, radiating a coldness that kept people at arm's length.

He said flatly, his voice cold and clear:

"There's no need to know too much."

He paused, raised his eyes, and looked at Lu Tianjue.

Those eyes were cold and moonlike, devoid of emotion, yet they inexplicably sent chills down your spine:

"I only need to confirm—"

His voice turned a few degrees colder:

"—exactly who bullied Lu Lin yesterday. That's enough."

As soon as he finished speaking, he pushed himself up with his cane and slowly stood.

He took out his phone, found Lin Wei's number, and dialed.

The phone was quickly answered, and Lin Wei's efficient voice came on the line:

"President Shen."

Shen Qingci's voice was cold, devoid of any emotion:

"Compile all the corporate assets under Lu Changgeng's name and deliver them to me this afternoon."

After hanging up, he stood at the villa entrance and turned to look at Lu Tianjue behind him.

Sunlight fell on him, casting a golden halo over his cold profile.

His slightly long, ink-black hair was loosely tied and draped over one shoulder, ruffled by the wind.

He stood there like a celestial being who'd stepped out of a painting, unreal in beauty, and so cold he seemed almost inhuman.

He said, his voice faint:

"Is that old bastard of the Lu family at the Lu house now?"

Lu Tianjue nodded.

Shen Qingci said nothing more and walked straight out of the villa.

Lu Tianjue stood still, watching his retreating figure.

Sunlight fell on him, as if laying out a golden path for him.

His back was slender and straight, leaning on his cane, step by step, calmly walking toward the black car already waiting outside the gate.

Only after Shen Qingci's figure had completely disappeared did Lu Tianjue slowly look away.

He lowered his head and was silent for a long while.

That man was still the same as he was ten years ago.

The same coldness, the same nobility, the same aura that made people not dare to look him in the eye.