Chapter64

Cen Zhen slept deeply until nearly noon the next day.

She had never slept so outrageously late, but even now, she felt utterly exhausted. Groggily reaching for the person beside her, she found only empty space.

Opening her eyes and turning her head, she realized Meng Fanchuan wasn’t in bed.

This house was still unfamiliar to Cen Zhen, as they’d only moved in last night. Rubbing her eyes, she got up, slipping into her slippers to stand, but her legs felt as weak as they had that night at the Mingzhou ski resort.

So sore she could barely stand.

It was her own fault, refusing the bed, rejecting the sofa, picking and choosing until she foolishly chose *that* path.

Meng Fanchuan had his fun, heedless of her cries that echoed to the heavens.

And what happened after?

The bed was still a mess, the roses on the sofa scattered chaotically, their vibrant petals trampled under his feet, utterly ruined.

If she’d known he’d rebelliously “mark” every spot later, she would’ve just stayed on the bed from the start, sparing herself another round of helplessly dangling, crying out for help to no avail for dozens of minutes.

Sitting on the bed’s edge, rubbing her legs for a while, Cen Zhen slowly got up again, opened the door, and reached the second-floor staircase. Hearing voices downstairs, she paused, quickly ducking behind a pillar.

Peeking down, she saw several young foreigners in the living room, likely Meng Fanchuan’s racer friends.

They were chatting about something, laughing occasionally, while Meng Fanchuan blended seamlessly into the conversation, his fluent American English flowing effortlessly.

Watching from upstairs, Cen Zhen quietly thought how dashing Meng Fanchuan looked—his appearance, his demeanor, all exuding confidence and freedom. With these young racers, he radiated a wild, untamed energy.

The word “wild” suddenly struck her—

Alright, but in bed, he was perhaps a bit *too* wild.

Maybe it was the wedding night, but last night he wasn’t just wild—almost barbaric.

Still wearing yesterday’s nightgown, Cen Zhen felt it inappropriate to go downstairs and returned to the room.

Lying listlessly on the bed, she picked up her phone. The trending topic of her and Meng Fanchuan’s wedding was still at the top, now under #CenZhenCapriBlueWedding#.

With last night’s grandeur, not sharing a few photos would’ve been unfair to the fans waiting all day. So, after the wedding, Mo Xiang logged into Cen Zhen’s Weibo and posted a few selected pictures online.

@CenZhen: Married 【heart】

Fans and netizens glimpsed their lavish century wedding through those photos, sparking an uproar. They declared Meng Fanchuan was Cen Zhen’s biggest fan.

For the proposal, he used a blue ribbon with his wife’s name. For the wedding, he turned the venue into a sea of blue, every detail tailored to Cen Zhen’s preferences.

【Is this a wedding or a princess castle? I’m stunned.】

【That massive crystal chandelier in the photos probably costs tens of thousands, right?】

【LOL, tens of thousands is nothing! Hong Kong media said Cen Zhen’s ten dresses alone were worth millions, not to mention the unique jewelry for each outfit. She’s a walking money printer!】

【Who gets it!! The third photo of him lifting her veil for a kiss is *too* dreamy!! Straight out of a novel!!】

【I love the sixth one! The way they look at each other, that thick love feels like it’s spilling through the screen!!】

【2000 pounds of roses? If I’d known, I’d have gone to the Convention Centre last night to pick up flowers to sell…】

【Don’t even! The Meng family was handing out red envelopes to everyone—every reporter got one. I bet even a stray dog passing by would’ve been stuffed with one.】

【The most extravagant wedding I’ve ever seen in my life.】

【After reading the comments, seems I’m the only one thinking dirty, wondering how many times Zhen Zhen and her husband did it last night. /shy】

【Check out Hong Kong entertainment next door. Their reporters are hilarious—said they camped outside Zhen Zhen and her husband’s wedding house, and the lights never went out all night!】

Reading this, Cen Zhen nervously glanced out the window—

Were there really media camping outside their door?

She had no idea.

If she remembered correctly, they’d drawn the curtains last night.

Cen Zhen quietly sighed in relief and kept reading the comments:

【Can’t they just have been counting their wedding cash all night? /doge】

【Pfft, they probably couldn’t finish counting in one night! Hahaha!】

【Who are you underestimating? Her husband definitely has the stamina to keep the lights on all night!】

【Lol, people who do extreme sports have crazy stamina!】

【Haha, please tone down your wild comments, Zhen Zhen reads these!】

Cen Zhen, scrolling through the comments, felt her face heat up.

She was both annoyed and baffled—how did these netizens figure everything out?

At that moment, the sound of the door opening came from outside. Cen Zhen quickly turned off her phone, then heard Meng Fanchuan walk in. “Awake?”

Her mind still echoed with fans’ remarks about “crazy stamina” and “keeping the lights on.” She replied awkwardly, “…Where are your friends?”

Meng Fanchuan didn’t notice her unease and sat on the bed. “They left.”

Yesterday, some racer friends had delayed international flights and arrived late. Meng Fanchuan, preoccupied at the wedding, hadn’t hosted them properly, so he planned to meet them this morning. But Cen Zhen hadn’t woken up.

He didn’t want her to wake up alone and couldn’t bear to disturb her, so he invited them over. When Cen Zhen briefly appeared earlier, though only for a second, he’d caught sight of her.

So, he dismissed the group and saw them off.

Meng Fanchuan pulled Cen Zhen into his arms, intending to ask if she was hungry, but before he could, she flinched, warily shrinking back. “No way.”

He paused. “No way what?”

“Nothing’s happening.” Cen Zhen was firm.

“…”

From her sudden leg-clenching, Meng Fanchuan understood, chuckling softly. He meant to defend himself, but his gaze fell on her shoulder, spotting several distinct red marks, and he reflected—

He’d been a bit rough yesterday.

Still, he pulled her back into his arms, gently kissing the marks before teasing, “Where’d these come from?”

Cen Zhen couldn’t believe he had the nerve to ask. Glaring at him for a few seconds, she turned away. “Dog bites.”

Meng Fanchuan wasn’t fazed, smiling as he turned her back to face him, apologizing sincerely. “My bad.”

But he was shameless—saying sorry with words while his lips acted, stealing light kisses. Cen Zhen, weak to his charm, was soon dizzy from his kisses.

“Really nothing?” he coaxed, voice low and tempting.

Her breath tangled with his, and Cen Zhen, swayed, mumbled, “…No bumpy ones.”

Only when she heard his amused “Alright” did she realize she’d dug herself another hole.

She tried to protest, but a maid knocked outside. Meng Fanchuan gave her one last kiss. “Let’s eat.”

Since they didn’t live here regularly, Zhuang Jiayi had sent two household maids. Cen Zhen, who barely ate at the wedding and burned too much energy last night, was starving. While eating, she asked Meng Fanchuan, “Did my mom call?”

“No,” he said. “Your relatives took a chartered flight back to Hangzhou this morning. My parents are taking your mom to Grandpa’s for dinner today, and they’ll head back to Beijing tomorrow.”

Cen Zhen blinked. “And us?”

“Honeymoon, obviously.” Meng Fanchuan opened a phone app and nodded at it. “You pick the place.”

“…”

Cen Zhen’s eyes landed on the screen, names of global destinations flashing by. Choosing a honeymoon spot this way was fun and novel.

Her finger hovered, but before pressing, she asked Meng Fanchuan, “What if I pick Beijing, Shanghai, or Hong Kong?”

He raised an eyebrow. “Then we honeymoon at home.”

He paused, meaningfully adding, “Without leaving.”

Cen Zhen: “…”

She silently prayed it wouldn’t be those three places—anywhere else would do.

Taking a deep breath, she watched the flashing names and pressed the screen at a random moment.

Their eyes landed on the result simultaneously, then they exchanged glances.

The large dining room fell silent.

Cen Zhen huffed first, leaving the table. Meng Fanchuan, amused but chasing after her, grabbed her. “You picked it. Why huff at me?”

Cen Zhen: “Are you happy now?”

Meng Fanchuan felt more wronged than Dou E, helpless for three seconds. “Wanna pick again? That one doesn’t count.”

“No.” Cen Zhen was stubborn. “I’m going there.”

“…”

Of all the world’s travel destinations, Cen Zhen picked Monaco.

The hometown of the girl Meng Fanchuan once danced with.

“No wonder you danced with that Monaco girl,” Cen Zhen said faintly to Meng Fanchuan upon landing.

This indulgent, glamorous European city suited Meng Fanchuan perfectly.

Supercars everywhere, a bay full of luxury yachts, home to one of the world’s top four F1 tracks, hosting the F1 Grand Prix annually, with F1-related sculptures lining the streets—a country deeply tied to racing.

“No ‘no wonder’ about it,” Meng Fanchuan explained again. “I picked randomly with my eyes closed. Whoever I grabbed, I danced with.”

“Sounds like fate.”

“…”

Since Cen Zhen chose this honeymoon destination, Meng Fanchuan felt like a sinner.

He shouldn’t have danced with that Monaco girl at his graduation prom at 17.

With his wife jealous, Meng Fanchuan, both exasperated and amused, pointed at the row of luxury stores. “If you’re mad, go spend. Spend until you’re happy.”

Cen Zhen teased seriously, “I’ll bankrupt you.”

Meng Fanchuan laughed. “That might be tough.”

“…”

Though she said that, as they wandered through luxury stores, Cen Zhen only looked, never bought.

She wasn’t big on luxury goods, especially since Meng Fanchuan and Zhuang Jiayi often bought her things, filling their home. Recently, Meng Fanchuan even suggested, like Zhuang Jiayi, getting a separate house for them with a professional to maintain the collection.

Surprisingly, Cen Zhen was drawn to men’s clothing, stopping to pick out items for Meng Fanchuan. He patiently played dress-up model all afternoon, finally coaxing a smile from his wife.

They planned to visit the Monte Carlo Casino that evening, but rain started falling, and after an afternoon of shopping, Cen Zhen was tired and suggested resting.

They returned to Port Hercules.

Though she was initially uneasy about picking this country, after reading online guides, Cen Zhen grew excited about Monaco’s stunning coastline. She’d told Meng Fanchuan she wanted to watch the sunrise at sea.

Due to F1 events, Meng Fanchuan was no stranger to Monaco, having visited often. Upon landing, he contacted a local friend to arrange a yacht rental, planning to spend the night at sea with Cen Zhen.

On the way back to the dock, Meng Fanchuan called the owner, a middle-aged man who said someone was waiting at the dock.

“I checked—the sunrise is around 4 a.m., so we need to prepare early,” Cen Zhen said, eyes sparkling with anticipation as she read the guide. “This is my first time seeing a sunrise at sea. You?”

Meng Fanchuan, now cautious with any “first” questions from his wife, nodded without hesitation. “Me too.”

Cen Zhen smiled, lips curving. After an afternoon of fun, she seemed to love this country and appeared to have forgotten the dance incident.

Meng Fanchuan quietly sighed in relief, holding her hand. “I’ll watch it with you tomorrow.”

“Mhm.”

The car stopped at the dock, rain still falling. Tipped generously, the driver got out to hold an umbrella and open the door. On the other side, the yacht owner, informed of VIPs, approached with an umbrella.

Typical tourists rent yachts for hours or a day, but this Asian man booked for a week, earning the owner six or seven thousand euros. He sent his daughter and trusted captain to greet the VIPs.

An umbrella was held over Meng Fanchuan and Cen Zhen. As night fell, Cen Zhen stepped forward, but a woman’s voice rang out: “Lewis?”

It was a mix of doubt and surprise.

Cen Zhen looked up, seeing the young woman holding the umbrella staring at Meng Fanchuan in disbelief.

And Meng Fanchuan—

He seemed briefly stunned but quickly turned to Cen Zhen, as if saying—*let me explain*.

The woman, confirming she hadn’t mistaken him, was thrilled. “Fancy meeting you here!”

Cen Zhen understood instantly.

The world is small.

No, Monaco is small.

A country, the world’s second smallest with a population of just twenty or thirty thousand, made it unsurprising that Meng Fanchuan ran into his first dance partner here.

Cen Zhen smiled at him. “Say hi. Why look at me?”

Rain pattered on the umbrella. Meng Fanchuan felt the heavens were toying with him.

He’d come to Monaco for work several times and never met her, but on his honeymoon with Cen Zhen, here she was.

His wife’s smile was sweet, but Meng Fanchuan knew its temperature was subzero.

How could he dare engage in this “long-lost reunion”? He considered pretending not to know her but felt that would seem deliberate. Instead, he curtly asked her to lead the way and took Cen Zhen’s hand to move forward.

Back in school, this Asian boy was proud and aloof. The Monaco girl was used to Meng Fanchuan’s distance at this moment—after all, they weren’t close, having only shared one dance.

Though that dance was her most unforgettable youthful memory.

She was here to help her father greet VIPs, holding a bottle of fine wine. She caught up to hand it to Meng Fanchuan. “Well,” she shrugged, “have a good night.”

Meng Fanchuan had rented a two-deck yacht, fully prepared and spotless. The captain led them aboard and retreated to the cockpit, setting sail slowly in the rain.

He was unaware that, inside the closed yacht, the Asian couple’s atmosphere was delicate.

“Come here.” Some rain had splashed onto them, and Meng Fanchuan grabbed a clean towel to wipe Cen Zhen.

She obediently approached, letting him dry her.

Everything seemed normal, but Meng Fanchuan knew it was anything but.

He mentally rehearsed how to explain. He was innocent, but picking Monaco for their honeymoon and now running into that girl? It looked suspiciously like he’d orchestrated it.

If Cen Zhen overthought even a little, he was doomed.

“I don’t remember her name,” Meng Fanchuan said, feigning calm.

Cen Zhen was calm too—eerily so, just humming in response.

This threw him off even more.

“Mad?” he finally asked outright.

“What’s there to be mad about?” Cen Zhen said, not meaning it.

She wasn’t exactly angry, but every time she thought of Meng Fanchuan dancing with another girl in his arms, at the peak of his 17-year-old youth, her heart soured.

Especially after meeting that girl just now.

“She’s pretty,” Cen Zhen admitted, sniffing. “Big eyes, nice smile.”

She even critiqued Meng Fanchuan. “You were rude just now.”

Meng Fanchuan: “…”

Heavens, how could he have dared respond to her?

He laughed helplessly. “Should I be gentlemanly tomorrow, say hi, catch up, maybe dance again?”

Cen Zhen stared at him.

“You believed that?” Meng Fanchuan chuckled, drying her hair with the towel and kissing her. “I’m too busy with my wife to have time for that.”

The word “wife” easily coaxed a smile from Cen Zhen amidst his gentle kisses. Seizing the moment, he parted her lips. What started as playful pecks turned serious, their kisses deepening.

Breathing grew heavy, the kisses intensifying, their warm breaths mingling. Meng Fanchuan tossed the towel aside, pulling Cen Zhen against the yacht’s window.

Outside, rain pattered on the glass, sliding in irregular streaks.

Cen Zhen’s lips were soft, lightly sweet from the lip balm she used when not working. Meng Fanchuan always got lost in that sweet softness, entangling with her relentlessly, forcefully. Cen Zhen, overwhelmed, let out several muffled “mmphs,” clutching his collar and leaning back.

In the enclosed yacht, the intimacy escalated.

Amid the rain, wet kissing sounds mixed in. Cen Zhen’s hands gradually wrapped around Meng Fanchuan’s neck, tightening, as if she too were caught in the downpour outside.

Her skirt, though dry, inexplicably grew damp from within.

She thought about resisting.

But it was hard.

Cen Zhen could barely stand, always played to her limit by Meng Fanchuan. Trembling, she clung to his shoulders, her words broken. “…What if the captain… suddenly comes down?”

“What are you thinking?” Meng Fanchuan’s kisses moved to her neck. Meant to reassure, his words sounded more like seduction, his low, gravelly voice brushing her ear. “He’s professional. He won’t barge in on a married couple making love.”

Cen Zhen flushed at his bluntness. “Can’t you be more subtle?”

He glanced up, seeing her reddened cheeks and ears against her fragile, pale skin, like a flower waiting to be ravaged, impossible to resist.

Suddenly, he pressed his whole body closer, whispering two even worse words in her ear.

Cen Zhen’s mind blanked for a second. Her hands braced against the window, palms pressing harder as his movements continued.

The rain was right before her, yet it felt like it was pouring onto her body.

As if struck by the rain, tears clung to Cen Zhen’s lashes, her long hair falling messily. Her breathing rose and fell with Meng Fanchuan’s relentless rhythm.

Fast and slow, heavy and light, an endless cycle.

Mist clouded her eyes. The spacious area, filled with their intense desire, felt crowded.

The air echoed with restrained but rising gasps.

Yet Cen Zhen, in this moment, wondered—would the yacht be rocking right now?

She reassured herself it wouldn’t. This was a yacht, not a car.

Besides, this was Monaco—no one knew her here.

“…Too deep.” When he lifted her onto the bar counter, the sudden intensity made Cen Zhen tremble and wince, her hands nearly slipping from the surface.

The rain outside grew heavier. Meng Fanchuan, buried in her neck, asked hoarsely, “What?”

He was definitely doing it on purpose.

He even lifted one of her legs, making it worse.

Cen Zhen tried to speak, but only fragmented syllables came out. She was nearly lost, feeling something slide down her leg like the rain outside. Instinctively, she tensed from embarrassment, unaware that this only made Meng Fanchuan’s scalp tingle, his breathing sinking instantly.

Suddenly, he moved without restraint, like a storm outside the yacht. The rain fell all night, and he showed no sign of stopping.

…

Cen Zhen sat messily on the counter, unsure of when it ended, the tingling in her limbs finally fading. Dazed, half-asleep, she didn’t know the time when the man beside her called her “baby” to wake her.

“Open your eyes.” Sated, he kissed her face. “The sunrise is here.”