15: Chapter 15 The Big Show Begins in Cairo

Su Qinghan pushed open the door to the master bedroom.

Inside, Zhu Yuntong was leaning against the headboard, reading a book.

A solitary bedside lamp cast a warm, yellow halo over his sharp, angular profile and the open pages.

Hearing the soft click of the door lock, he looked up.

Su Qinghan stood in the doorway, the light from the corridor outlining her silhouette.

"Is something the matter?"

He closed the book, his voice flat and calm, as if he were merely asking if she wanted a glass of water.

Su Qinghan did not answer.

She reached back, closed the door, and locked it.

Barefoot, she stepped onto the thick, soft carpet and walked toward him in silence.

At the bedside, she stopped and looked down at him.

The once calm, rational, and confident Renmin University master's graduate now had a completely erratic rhythm of breath.

She needed a harbor.

A harbor that was absolutely solid and would never betray her.

The Su Family, that cold cage, was no longer a place she could return to.

Her father's coldness, her stepmother's schemes, and her sister's poison had shattered the worldview she had built since childhood.

And the man before her was the only one who had pulled her out of that filthy quagmire.

He blocked all the filth for her and even led her in launching a desperate counterattack.

In the game of power, verbal alliances were as fragile as paper.

She needed a deeper, more primal bond.

Zhu Yuntong was just about to speak.

Su Qinghan's knee pressed against the edge of the bed, and her entire body leaned down without warning.

"Don't say anything."

"Kiss me."

This was not a request; it was a declaration.

It was a demand she made, staking her last bit of pride on it.

She closed the distance between them to zero.

Zhu Yuntong did not dodge.

In his sixty years as an emperor, with three thousand beauties in his harem, he had long grown accustomed to accepting women and their compliance.

But Su Qinghan was not one of those trembling concubines in the harem.

In her eyes burned a stubborn, unyielding fire.

He reached out, wrapped his arm tightly around her slender waist, and pulled her into his embrace with irresistible force.

The silk quilt slid down.

Compared to the absurdity in the hotel a few days ago, driven by drugs, this time was completely different.

That time, it was instinctual.

This time, it was a surrender of the soul.

Su Qinghan gave herself over completely, her fingers clutching the fabric on his shoulders, responding without reservation.

The temperature in the room climbed steadily in silence.

The bedside lamp was casually turned off.

In the darkness, only the faint light seeping in from outside the window remained, outlining their intertwined silhouettes.

The night breeze brushed against the curtains like suppressed sighs.

This was a most primal affirmation of territory.

She used her only bargaining chip to exchange for his protection and trust.

And he, in turn, used this method to accept this special ally, branding her soul with his own mark.

The wind stopped.

Su Qinghan curled up against Zhu Yuntong's chest, her long hair like ink, spread across the sheets.

She reached out to pull the corner of the quilt, covering their shoulders.

Neither of them spoke.

Only two hearts beat within their chests, resonating with a steady, powerful rhythm.

She nuzzled gently into the crook of his neck, her fingers unconsciously tracing circles on his defined collarbone.

"Zhu Wenhao." She whispered his name.

"Hmm."

"Do you love me?"

This question came without warning.

Even she felt it was absurd.

Having grown up in a family accustomed to marriages of convenience, she shouldn't have asked such a childish and ridiculous question.

But she asked it anyway.

After a woman has completely surrendered herself, she always wants to grasp at something ethereal to prove that she hasn't lost utterly.

Zhu Yuntong silently turned over, leaving her with his broad, solid back.

He did not answer.

The air instantly turned cold.

Su Qinghan stared fixedly at his back.

She had anticipated countless answers, perhaps perfunctory coaxing, or sweet nothings said just to go along with the flow.

But she never expected this silence that kept her at a distance.

A transaction, in the end, is just a transaction.

She warned herself that whoever falls in love first, loses.

She withdrew her hand, preparing to distance herself, now devoid of warmth.

The man in front of her suddenly spoke.

"No one has ever asked me that question before."

In Daming Palace, in Fengtian Hall, he was a lonely man.

With three thousand beauties in the harem, some respected him, some feared him, some schemed against him, and some used him.

Yet, no one dared to ask him about love.

An emperor does not deserve love, nor can he have it.

"So, I do not know how to answer you."

An incomparably sincere truth.

Su Qinghan did not understand the meaning behind this, only thinking that he had completely buried the playboy of the past.

But this answer brought her more peace of mind than any solemn promise.

He did not lie to her.

He did not use cheap lies to tarnish their alliance.

That was enough.

Su Qinghan quietly moved forward half an inch, again wrapping her arms around his strong waist from behind.

This time, she pressed her cheek tightly against his shoulder blades, her arms slowly tightening.

An ally who would not lie, a reliance that was strong enough.

That was good enough.

Zhu Yuntong let her hold him, and there was no more talk throughout the night.

...

The next day, Su Qinghan slept until she woke up naturally.

This was the most peaceful and sound sleep she had had since leaving The Su Family.

In the kitchen, there was the faint sound of frying eggs.

When she came out after washing up, two simple breakfasts were already set on the dining table.

The two sat opposite each other and ate in tacit understanding; neither mentioned the madness of the previous night, nor did they revisit that unsolvable question.

As if that were just a tacit ritual.

After the ritual, life returned to calm.

After the meal, Su Qinghan cleared the dishes.

Zhu Yuntong sat on the sofa, opening a book.

Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, casting warm spots of light on the floor.

Quiet, peaceful times.

These four words, for the past twenty-plus years, had been such a luxury for her.

In the evening, Zhu Yuntong closed the book.

"I am going home for a while."

Su Qinghan looked up from her heavy stack of exercises.

"Okay."

She did not ask more.

They both understood that each had their own battlefield to rush to.

...

Municipal Party Committee residential compound, Villa No. 4.

Zhu Yuntong pushed open the door, and the aroma of food rushed toward him.

On the mahogany round table in the dining room, a sumptuous meal of four dishes and one soup was laid out.

Li Juan and Secretary Zhu Tianhe were sitting at the table.

Seeing him enter, Li Juan put down her phone and raised her exquisitely painted eyebrows.

"Oh, our great hero, you finally decided to return from your hideaway?"

Her words were sharp, but the tail end of her tone carried a hint of imperceptible laughter.

Secretary Zhu Tianhe held his teacup, not saying a word, but the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes relaxed.

Zhu Yuntong changed his shoes, washed his hands, and sat down.

After the nanny served the rice, she quietly retreated.

This meal was uncharacteristically warm.

There were no reprimands, no demands for money, and no sarcasm.

Secretary Zhu Tianhe picked up the choicest piece of fatty fish belly and placed it in his bowl.

Li Juan chatted casually about the newly opened malls and restaurants in the provincial capital.

Everyone was tacitly aware, refusing to mention the provincial exam, the interview, or that heart-stopping game of wits.

The dining table is home.

No matter how big the matter, finish the meal, close the door, and then talk.

Half an hour later, the leftovers were cleared, and a set of antique purple clay tea sets was brought out.

The nanny brewed a pot of scalding hot Dahongpao tea, retreated to the kitchen, and closed the sliding door.

The dining room became a closed, secret chamber.

Li Juan picked up her teacup, blew away the curling steam, and took a gentle sip.

She placed the teacup down on the table with a firm, deliberate click.

"Alright, the meal is finished."

Zhu Yuntong leaned back in his chair, composed, and looked calmly at his father and stepmother opposite him.

The grand performance begins.