Chapter 59: Persian Buttercup

Shang Yucheng truly did not stay at the old mansion.

He quickly chose that Cullinan, and didn’t bring a driver.

Liang Jinshang didn’t know what possessed her; instinctively, she lowered herself, hiding entirely in the shadow between the seats.

Shang Yucheng drove fast; before her legs had even grown numb from crouching, they had already arrived at the Yunshui Residence’s garage.

Seeing Shang Yucheng unfasten his seatbelt and turn off the engine, she realized if she didn’t reveal herself now, she’d spend the night in the car. Slowly, she straightened up.

Had it been anyone else, after driving alone with the back seat suddenly sprouting a person, even without a scream, they’d certainly have been startled.

But Shang Yucheng merely paused, his expression unruffled.

He regarded her coolly for a moment before speaking. “How did you know I’d take this car?”

He had at least eight or ten luxury vehicles parked at the old mansion’s garage; they hadn’t come in this one today.

That she’d be persistent was unsurprising, but that she’d accurately pick the car he’d drive—luck alone wouldn’t suffice.

Liang Jinshang’s voice carried a hint of intrigue. “Because this one… it’s the most comfortable to sit in…”

Her emphasis was unmistakable. Though Shang Yucheng appeared indifferent, he responded, “You’ve ridden in many cars?”

“No, just once. I’m timid, I don’t like being in cars.” Liang Jinshang transformed into the pitiful girl who called him “Uncle,” soft and plaintive. “Can I come home with you, Mr. Shang?”

Shang Yucheng neither agreed nor denied, simply got out and opened the door.

No objection meant consent—the first rule of adult seduction.

The second rule: confessions are for children; adults seduce directly. The first step is to abandon sentimentality, then become a cat, a tiger, a dog drenched by rain.

She had played the cat and tiger before him; tonight, she would be the drenched little dog.

She followed him step by step, innocent eyes wide, utterly defenseless in her dependence, radiating the aura of a stray with nowhere to go.

She was certain Shang Yucheng wouldn’t kick her away.

Perhaps luck was on her side again tonight, and she won.

But once inside, what he did made her victory feel hollow.

He simply told her to make him a late-night snack and went to shower.

It was already late—any further delay would cut into his own sleep.

To save time, there were handmade semi-prepared foods in the fridge, delivered weekly by the housekeeper. Liang Jinshang chose wontons to boil, then fried two eggs; everything was timed just right.

Shang Yucheng emerged, drying his wet hair, half his chest exposed, alluring and tempting.

Yet his expression was far from pleased, and, infuriatingly, he glanced at the midnight snack she’d prepared and directly showed his disdain.

Without touching a single bite, he turned and went back to his room.

It wasn’t the kind of turn that signaled she should follow, but the genuine intent to sleep.

His unpredictable behavior left Liang Jinshang feeling disappointed.

It was as if she’d been abandoned in the back seat at dusk—at least then she’d had Shang Ao’er for company.

Now, in the empty living room at midnight, she truly was a stray dog with nowhere to go.

She took it upon herself to pick a guest room for the night.

By morning, Shang Yucheng was already off to work. She hurried to work herself, reaching out to Shang Ao’er on the way.

Liang Yuanhan’s situation could no longer wait. Since Shang Yucheng’s stance was unclear, she had to deal with the most urgent matter first.

Fortunately, Shang Ao’er told her that her uncle hadn’t strictly forbidden her from continuing the kidney black market dealings.

What she’d thought would be the hardest hurdle, Shang Yucheng handled with indifference and tolerance.

Liang Jinshang seized the opportunity. She had never spent such a decisive seven-figure sum.

Spending someone else’s money—especially an enemy’s—must be one of life’s greatest pleasures.

With Chao Jingyu’s assistance, Liang Yuanhan’s kidney transplant finally proceeded as scheduled.

Though the long road of post-op rejection still lay ahead, at least a life had been snatched back from Death.

...

Every day after work, Liang Jinshang would first visit the hospital to see the Liang father and son, then return dutifully to Yunshui Residence.

Despite all the twists and turns, in the end the Shang family helped her solve the kidney problem.

With Shang Yucheng offering no clear instructions, she could only follow his original demand and move in.

Both were devoted to their work and spent little time at home.

Occasionally, after work, Shang Yucheng would see her curled on the sofa eating fruit, and simply tacitly allowed her to stay.

But that was all—it was merely “staying.”

What did that mean?

That day, after work, she detoured to the flower market for a bouquet. Seeing it was still early and the fridge was stocked, she made two dishes for herself: bitter melon stir-fried with beef, and chilled broccoli salad—just enough for one.

Based on recent days, Shang Yucheng either didn’t come home, or arrived after nine.

She showered before slowly starting her meal.

Halfway through, the door opened.

Liang Jinshang hastily swallowed her mouthful of rice and asked, “Mr. Shang… have you eaten?”

Using the universal social script for small talk—never goes wrong.

Shang Yucheng glanced at her dishes, replying lazily, “No.”

“Then…” She looked at her nearly finished meal and shifted, “What would you like? I can cook for you.”

Seeing no objection, she stood and naturally asked, “What do you like? Do you eat bitter melon?”

Despite knowing each other for quite some time, and being so close, they rarely ate together.

She didn’t even know his preferences.

“I don’t,” Shang Yucheng scoffed. “Who would eat that stuff?”

Her, apparently…

Liang Jinshang defended herself, “Bitter melon’s good for clearing heat, actually quite healthy.”

“You’re overheated?” Shang Yucheng’s voice suddenly deepened. “Does bitter melon help?”

Her movement tying the apron slowed; she met his gaze.

She wasn’t sure if she’d misunderstood.

His inscrutable expression gave nothing away; she couldn’t tell if he was inviting her.

In their silent duel of stares, it was Liang Jinshang who quietly conceded first, her gaze dropping to the bouquet of newly purchased Persian buttercups on the table.

Pure white, tinged with faint pink, luxuriant and layered, still bearing fresh dew.

Summoning her courage, she reached to touch Shang Yucheng’s hand.

He didn’t pull away, but neither did he grip her in return.

…The gentle shyness of the buttercups seemed to permeate the air.

Shang Yucheng tossed aside the flower in his hand.

This time, he was no longer distant and cold.

He finally reversed roles—his burning palm suddenly seized her waist.