Chapter 49: A Teacher for a Day

The incident with the paper could be excused; Gong Xueyuan’s sudden attack had caught Liang Jinshang herself off guard. But Hu Zhinan’s move against her was something Shang Yucheng had long foreseen—hadn’t he already “blackmailed” her with it once? Liang Jinshang had paid her “fee” in advance, yet Shang Yucheng failed to keep his end of the bargain.

Her anger was hard to swallow, but Shang Yucheng only chuckled, as if amused by her accusation of “taking advantage of a crisis.” Of course, he had his own terms; both of them understood this without needing to say it aloud. Shang Yucheng was no philanthropist—he was a businessman, and a predatory one at that, savoring every taste.

Liang Jinshang knew the only thing she could offer in exchange—the only thing he was interested in—was what happened between the sheets. She shouldn’t belittle herself; she was excellent at her job, too, but Shang Yucheng hardly lacked capable employees.

“Is it my obligation to clear obstacles for you in advance?” Shang Yucheng said indifferently. “What are you to me?”

“I’m nothing to you! So whatever needs you have, you shouldn’t come to me,” she retorted. Even if he found Gong Xueyuan distasteful, wasn’t there a beautiful, highly educated woman like Yuan Xi right now?

“We’re not entirely unrelated,” Shang Yucheng said, pulling Liang Jinshang toward the garage, his breath warm against her ear in a teasing way. “A teacher for a day, a father for life.”

It was the first time Liang Jinshang realized how shameless Shang Yucheng could be! What had he ever taught her, really, besides what happened between a man and a woman? Was this a compliment, that she suited him perfectly, or a mockery that this was her only merit?

He pushed her into the passenger seat and then complained that her blood- and duststained clothes would dirty his car.

Expressionless, Liang Jinshang replied, “Do you know where this blood came from? If you dare bring me home, you’d better not keep any knives in the house.”

“Knives, guns—it doesn’t matter. Once the doors are closed, we’ll see whose skills prevail,” Shang Yucheng answered, his tone wicked, every sentence laced with innuendo. He was a man of action, rarely indulging in crude talk even at his most impassioned. This penchant for verbal mischief—was it Yuan Xi’s influence? She certainly seemed well versed in such matters.

Liang Jinshang was taken back to Yunshui Residence. Without needing his urging, she went straight to the bathroom. She felt so dirty she could hardly stand herself. But instead of a quick shower, she sank into the bathtub, craving a little comfort.

Tonight, she had thought she might receive an embrace after a long separation. There was no warm embrace, but at least there was hot water. Longing could be endured, so long as she kept it out of her mind. But once the floodgates were breached, it was hard to restrain.

Liang Jinshang lingered in the bathroom for an hour. Shang Yucheng, having showered in the guest room and taken several work calls, at last lost patience and came to look for her, thinking she’d fallen asleep. But her eyes were bright and clear. The warm bath had left her cheeks rosy. Clean of blood and dust, she was again the pure, untainted beauty of the university.

Shang Yucheng had expected her to chase him out; at best, he imagined a reluctant yielding, which he attributed to his own skill. Yet unexpectedly, Liang Jinshang opened her arms to him and softly uttered one word—“Hold me.”

He gazed at her for a long moment, then stepped forward and crouched down. Lifting someone from a low position required powerful core strength, but Shang Yucheng did it effortlessly, with a hint of urgency.

As he carried her out, Liang Jinshang protested in a soft, sticky voice, “At least dry me off!”

He glanced down and grumbled at her wrinkled skin, but didn’t stop, his voice hoarse beyond recognition.

He tossed her onto the sofa and pressed her down. Liang Jinshang, already sore from exertion—her shoulders and back aching—would have preferred the bed to the sofa, no matter how comfortable. She kicked him. “I want to go to the bed.”

He ignored her, intent on his purpose. Breathless, she cursed, “Why don’t you dare do it on the bed? Are you so afraid Yuan will find out, yet you still dare bring me home?”

Annoyed by her chatter, he silenced her with a fierce kiss.

An hour later, finally lying in the dry, comfortable bed, Liang Jinshang realized why he’d chosen the sofa—it turned out that six-figure sofa had served as his bath towel.

Shang Yucheng lay beside her. Before he could draw her close, she rolled into his arms of her own accord. Since their “thawing” over two months ago—aside from that night at the Shang family’s old house—this was the first time Liang Jinshang had taken the initiative. She clung to him desperately, until even her fingers were too weak to lift. At last, she drifted off in his arms, not knowing if she’d fallen asleep or simply passed out.

Shang Yucheng lit a cigarette, leaned against the headboard, and looked down at her. He suspected the latter.

As to why she needed to exhaust herself before sleeping—sometimes, men are sensitive, too. If it wasn’t the fright Hu Zhinan had given her, it was something else.

Shang Yucheng looked at Liang Jinshang’s face—apart from sweat, there was nothing else. He admitted he had lost control tonight, had been ruthless with her. But she still didn’t cry.

He’d always considered it normal, never cared. A woman who doesn’t cry is ideal—who has the patience to console a wife who weeps too much, let alone a bed partner? But tonight, Chao Xinghe’s words made him smoke an extra cigarette. Even Liang Jinshang’s rare, unexpected initiative left him unsatisfied, even a little regretful for bringing her back.

What man is content to be a tool called by another’s name?

…

When Liang Jinshang woke, she’d already missed the start of the workday. Her face throbbed painfully; checking her phone’s camera, she saw the two slaps she’d received through her cap yesterday—she’d been so distracted she hadn’t tended to them, and now her face was swollen miserably.

She had just pressed the curtain remote, ready to get up, when a hand reached from behind and closed the curtains again.

“Aren’t you going to work?” she asked.

Shang Yucheng’s voice was close by her ear. “Mm, I have something else to do first.”

She tried to escape, pushing hard against his chest. “I need to go to work! I can’t stay here with you!”

Women, when they turn their backs, can be just as ruthless as men.

Shang Yucheng’s initial impulse, which might have faded with a little distraction, only blazed up further at her resistance. There would be no half-measures.

Liang Jinshang was still weak, hardly able to resist his strength. Clutching her swollen face in despair, she cried, “I’m so ugly now—how can you still be in the mood?”

Shang Yucheng propped himself up on his arm and looked at her face. Just as she thought she’d escaped, he flipped her over.

He came at her from behind.