Chapter74

Cen Zhen was briefly stunned to find Meng Fanchuan at the company she was about to sign with, but her thoughts gradually clarified as his words sank in.

He’d said long-distance wouldn’t work, but office romance was fine, which meant—

“You’re coming to Shanghai?” Cen Zhen asked slowly, almost in disbelief, seeking confirmation.

“Of course.” Meng Fanchuan walked over, taking her hand and sitting with her on the sofa.

Forget long-distance—even the few hours he’d spent waiting for her felt unbearable.

He wrapped his arms around her waist, naturally pulling her onto his lap, saying softly, word by word, “I never agreed to long-distance.”

Cen Zhen: “…”

To protect her from people like Shen Zesheng and give her the best opportunities, Meng Fanchuan had decided early on to support her in the entertainment industry.

The only company under Yawan Group tied to entertainment was in Shanghai. He’d visited before, but the manager, Wang Yuan, insisted the company’s policy was not to sign artists. Meng Fanchuan negotiated extensively with his father, Meng Songnian, to secure the chance to manage Zhongshi in Shanghai.

If Wang Yuan wouldn’t take charge, he would.

Though he had no interest in the industry, for Cen Zhen, he was willing to learn and adapt.

Leaving Beicheng to join her in Shanghai might earn her forgiveness when he revealed his identity.

While waiting for her, Meng Fanchuan had rehearsed his words. Now, kissing her lips lightly, he said, “I have something to tell you, but for following you here, promise not to get mad, okay?”

In those few minutes, Cen Zhen had pieced together what was happening and guessed what he wanted to say. Sitting on his lap, she didn’t shy away from his kiss but replied politely, “Go ahead, Second Young Master.”

He was about to speak but paused, pulling back to look at her. “…What did you call me?”

“Second Young Master.” Cen Zhen repeated flatly, “Meng family’s second young master, Yawan Group’s second heir, right?”

Her distant “Second Young Master” froze him, a chill creeping up his spine. His prepared speech faltered. After a few seconds, he asked, “When did you find out?”

Cen Zhen took a deep breath, not caring about the rest, only wanting clarity on one thing.

She looked up at him. “You have a fiancée, don’t you?”

“No.” His answer was resolute, but after a pause, he admitted, “There was an arranged one before we got together, but I called it off.”

Cen Zhen stayed silent, her gaze searching his, as if weighing his words’ truth. After a moment, she lowered her head, recalling Song Wang’s “two worlds” comment, feeling a pang of dejection. “I suddenly feel like you’re so far away.”

Meng Fanchuan’s fear came true—his identity became a shackle, making Cen Zhen hesitate, pulling back.

“I’m right here.” He pulled her into his arms. “Zhen Zhen, I’m right in front of you. Whenever you need me, I’ll be there. There’s no distance between us. Don’t doubt my feelings because of my family—they’re unrelated.”

His warm embrace temporarily erased their status gap.

His sincerity was palpable, and Cen Zhen felt it.

She greedily breathed in his scent, thinking to herself, *What else could you do? Leave him now? Could you? Would you?*

Her heart knew the answer.

Their relationship was full of serendipity, starting with a dramatic, romantic encounter. She’d fallen hard, even prepared to endure long-distance to keep it. Would she give up just because he was a rich heir?

He’d done nothing wrong, nor had she.

It made no sense, and she wasn’t willing.

After a long silence, she looked up at Meng Fanchuan. “Is your love for me real?”

Beyond that, she had no reason to abandon him or their relationship.

If he said yes, she’d believe him.

He paused, taking her hand and pressing it to his chest. “Listen for yourself.”

As if anyone could hear sincerity. Forced to feel his heartbeat, she didn’t sense truth but was startled by its rapid pace.

Her eyes widened. “Why’s your heart beating so fast?”

“My girlfriend’s about to slip away. How could it not be nervous?”

“…”

His words made her laugh, and she pursed her lips. “Be serious.”

He got serious, holding her hand. After a moment, he said, “Whether I’m sincere, let time prove it.”

He added, “I won’t do long-distance. Where you are, I’ll be.”

His light words landed heavily in her heart.

She recalled Song Wang’s confident claim—*I can go to Shanghai with you. Will that young master? He won’t!*

She smiled softly to herself.

If Song Wang were here, his face would look terrible.

“Smiling means you’re not mad?” Seeing her smile, Meng Fanchuan finally relaxed.

Cen Zhen deliberately hid her smile. “No need to say it—signing me was part of your plan, wasn’t it?”

“The company has resources, you have talent. Even if I had some selfish motives, it’s a win-win. Plus, Shanghai’s close to Hangzhou. You can go home anytime, right?”

His reasoning was sound, leaving her no room to argue. She thought for a moment, then her imagination ran wild. “What if we break up someday—”

Meng Fanchuan: “…”

Cen Zhen swallowed, knowing her words were a mood-killer, but it was a real concern. Everything was great now, but if they split, he could walk away, leaving her in the company, possibly sidelined, facing millions in termination fees…

“I mean,” she asked cautiously yet boldly, “if one day you don’t like me, or I don’t like you—”

Her words were cut off by a fierce kiss.

Meng Fanchuan’s kiss carried emotion, punishingly sucking her lips and tongue, a mix of ferocity and displeasure. “That won’t happen.”

“…”

Perhaps to reassure her, after kissing for a while, he reluctantly addressed her hypothetical. “You know me. Even if that happens, it won’t affect your work. At most—”

He paused, looking at her quietly. “At most, we’d be long-distance, never seeing each other again.”

It was just a hypothetical, but imagining such a scenario—never crossing paths again—was unbearable for Cen Zhen.

Why worry so far ahead? She was overthinking. He’d left everything to join her in Shanghai. The future was up to fate.

She hugged him tightly, leaning in to kiss him, unsure if she was soothing him or herself.

Cen Zhen was usually reserved with intimacy, but her rare initiative, as her lips clumsily met his, made his breathing deepen instantly.

He quickly cupped her neck, parting her lips to entwine her tongue. Their lips grazed, breaths mingled, filling the office with soft, ambiguous sounds. With Cen Zhen’s recent rehearsal schedule, he hadn’t seen her for three days—brief to others, but long enough for him to lose control now.

Pressed against him, her waist tightening to his body, she tilted her head to endure his fierce, aggressive kisses. Their tongues tangled, then he moved to her neck. Unprepared when he grazed her earlobe, she trembled, instinctively grabbing his shirt.

But he didn’t stop, pushing her onto the sofa, patiently kissing her neck. His hot, heavy breaths on her skin sent shivers through her.

Cen Zhen, overwhelmed, wrapped her arms around him. Sensing her need, he returned to her lips. Their heated breaths merged in sticky sounds, and she couldn’t recall who undid her bra or crumpled his shirt.

Just as the office teetered on chaos, a polite knock interrupted.

---

Wang Yuan, hearing Cen Zhen was at the company and in Meng Fanchuan’s office, went to the 37th floor.

Curious about the actress Meng Fanchuan insisted on signing, he knocked on the office door.

No response.

Frowning, thinking his knock was too soft, he tried again. “Second Young Master, it’s me, Wang Yuan.”

Finally, a low, slightly hoarse “Come in” came from inside.

Wang Yuan pushed the door open to see Meng Fanchuan at his desk, with the young girl named Cen Zhen standing opposite.

Two perfectly normal young people.

“What is it?” Meng Fanchuan asked, expressionless, his wrinkled shirt still un smoothed.

Luckily, Wang Yuan wasn’t sharp enough—or perhaps, in middle age, less attuned to young lovers’ passion—to notice. He said seriously, “I heard from Xiao Chi the new actress is here, signing with you, so I came to check.”

Cen Zhen’s heart raced, her breathing still unsteady. Unsure who the visitor was but guessing it was Manager Wang, she relied on her acting skills to mask her fluster, nodding to him. “Hello, Manager Wang.”

“Hello, Xiao Cen.”

His gaze landed on Cen Zhen, and with one look, he was inwardly stunned. How could someone have such a pure yet alluring face?

Refined beauty, charming but not vulgar, slim but not gaunt, with stunning features and bone structure.

Having worked in the industry for over a decade, Wang Yuan had seen countless stars and could tell who’d make it. No wonder this young master dared bet against Meng Songnian. With that face, she was already a winner; with talent, she could carry Zhongshi’s banner.

“Satisfied?” A half-mocking voice broke his thoughts.

Wang Yuan nodded. “Very satisfied.”

“How long are you going to keep staring?”

“…”

Wang Yuan quickly composed himself, coughing twice. No rookie, he knew a girl who could make this defiant second young master travel from Beicheng to Shanghai wasn’t ordinary.

Switching to business mode, he said, “We’ve assigned Mo Xiang to Xiao Cen. She’s a veteran top agent who managed Sister Fei. They’ll meet soon.”

“Got it.” Meng Fanchuan’s patience was thin. “Anything else?”

“…” Wang Yuan finally sensed he’d interrupted them and shook his head, retreating. “You two talk.”

The door opened and closed, stirring a light breeze.

Their eyes met again—

Catching the exasperation in Meng Fanchuan’s gaze, Cen Zhen couldn’t help but smile.

They’d agreed on an office romance, but their kisses had nearly sparked into office lovemaking.

Though the interruption cooled their heat, Meng Fanchuan sighed, grabbed his jacket, and took her hand. “Let’s go see your place.”

Recalling the contract’s accommodation clause, Cen Zhen asked curiously, “My dorm?”

He smiled. “Sort of.”

Puzzled by his mystery, she followed him to a private elevator, hands intertwined. After their honesty, their sweetness carried a rare ease.

A luxury car with a quiet, middle-aged driver awaited them.

Zhongshi’s artist housing wouldn’t be bad, and Cen Zhen had imagined a nice two-bedroom or small loft. But when Meng Fanchuan led her to a sprawling penthouse, she was speechless.

A river-view penthouse with floor-to-ceiling windows, a starry ceiling, and a sky garden, offering Shanghai’s skyline from the balcony.

This “dorm” was at least 300 square meters.

“This is my dorm?” Cen Zhen walked in, incredulous. About to ask if it was too lavish, she spotted couple’s slippers at the entrance.

Her gaze paused, realizing something. Without a word, she checked the bathroom.

Sure enough—paired toiletries and a black razor in the cabinet.

Emerging, she leaned against the glass door, eyeing Meng Fanchuan. “Young Master Meng, why’s there a men’s razor in my dorm?”

Shamelessly, he didn’t pretend, striding over to scoop her up. “Because your boyfriend needs it.”

Laughing, she dodged. “I never said I’d live with you.”

“Fine, I’ll leave after dinner.”

“…”

Carried to the dining area, she saw a table laden with dishes.

Meng Fanchuan’s call for refinement had spurred the Dutch butler to go all out—flowers, scented candles, and a centerpiece fit for a proposal.

Cen Zhen felt shy. “Why so grand?”

Setting her down but keeping his arms around her waist, he said, “To celebrate you joining the company.”

He kissed her lips. “Wishing Miss Cen a dazzling career across both shores.”

When a usually nonchalant man spoke heartfelt words, no one could resist.

Cen Zhen had no defense against this Meng Fanchuan. His low, affectionate voice nibbled her ear, like the table’s decanted red wine—intoxicating before a sip.

She looked up, returning a fleeting kiss. “Thank you.”

Their faces close, neither said nor did much, but the disrupted mood reignited in their breaths. Meng Fanchuan paused, kissing her again.

Feeling it, they greedily embraced, kissing briefly on the table. Unsatisfied, he lifted her.

The open-plan penthouse had no barriers between dining and bedroom. Their bodies sank onto the mattress, kisses following swiftly.

The kiss carried the afternoon’s unspent desire, deepening. Several times, Cen Zhen felt breathless but clung to his neck, unwilling to let go.

Kissing the sensitive spot behind her ear, she shivered, letting out a soft moan.

He couldn’t resist that sound, kissing her lips fiercely again, parting after a while.

Their gazes locked, unsure whose eyes held more desire. The heat made Cen Zhen look away, shy to meet his eyes, but he guided her hand to his chest, whispering, “Help me take it off.”

His gravelly voice seduced her ear. Blushing, she unbuttoned slowly, revealing his body.

She knew he was tall, but hadn’t expected… such definition.

Held in his arms, she felt safe, as if he’d hold up the sky if it fell.

“And the rest.”

“…”

Her face burned, eyes avoiding downward, acting on instinct. Accidentally brushing him, her hand recoiled like it was shocked.

He kissed her again, swiftly removing all barriers. As their bare skin met, she trembled, wrapping her arms around his back.

Inexperienced and nervous, she tried to ease the tension. “This is actually your place, isn’t it…”

His kisses trailed down, correcting her. “*Our* place.”

His kisses sparked like flames, his breath scorching, roaming from her neck to her chest, lingering like he was savoring candy. Electric shivers coursed through her skin.

The unfamiliar sensation made her tense, yet her body responded uncontrollably.

Inexperienced, she closed her eyes, letting him kiss down her chest and abdomen. Suddenly, he gripped her ankle, lifting it.

Her private areas exposed, she froze, trying to retreat, but a wet, tingling sensation shot up her spine, making her arch.

Wanting to hold him, she grasped air, her body under his control, teetering between weakness and weightlessness.

The sensations kept coming—delicate, gentle, sometimes intense.

“No…” She wanted to stop, her feet rubbing the sheets, unable to move, swept repeatedly into passion.

She pleaded, but he intensified, stopping only when she trembled, returning to kiss her lips and ask softly, “No?”

Cen Zhen: “…”

Biting her lip, she didn’t answer. He didn’t mind, reaching for proof, holding the glistening evidence before her.

He toyed with it casually. “Then what’s this?”

Blushing with shame, she turned away, closing herself off. “Don’t know.”

He pinched her face, kissing her back, parting her stubbornness—

In a deep kiss, the void in her heart filled.

She opened her mouth but couldn’t speak, only clinging to his back.

The wet, constricting sensation made his scalp tingle. Holding back, he kissed her lips repeatedly. “Tell me if it’s uncomfortable.”

But she couldn’t speak. The tingling surged from her spine to her head, her limbs melting. She tilted her head to meet his neck kisses, then jolted.

The bare floor-to-ceiling windows—they were brazenly on the bed—

“The curtains…” Panicked, she tensed. “Someone might see.”

His throat was dry, veins pulsing with restraint. “No one can see.”

The windows were designed to show the view from inside but reveal nothing from outside.

Besides, it was a river view.

Still, she was shy, feeling exposed. She pushed his shoulder. “Can we close the curtains?”

He lifted her outright. Startled, she clung to him, her pale legs over his arms, as he carried her to the window.

Her back pressed against the cool glass. Wide-eyed, she gripped him. “What are you doing?”

“Closing the curtains.”

“…”

Couldn’t he part from her for even a second?

She soon regretted mentioning the curtains.

She shouldn’t have.

Who takes *that* long to close curtains?

Pressed against the window for ten minutes, she let out strained moans, breathless, panting heavily. He teased wickedly, “Shanghai’s night view—nice, isn’t it?”

Cen Zhen: “…”

Outside, Shanghai’s dazzling nightlife sprawled endlessly.

Inside, their sultry passion matched it.

Doing this in such a lavish “dorm,” Cen Zhen suddenly asked, “Are you sure we’re living together?”

He didn’t know how she could think of other things now but answered, “What’s the problem?”

She said, “…Won’t people think you’re keeping me?”

He frowned, turning her to face him. “What?”

“Haven’t you heard of rich heirs keeping actresses?” Blushing, she teased, “Signing me, promoting me, giving me this huge place—are you trying to keep me? Tell me.”

“…”

Her words left him too exasperated to explain.

Or he chose another way to express his speechlessness.

The curtains closed automatically. He carried her back to the bed.

The quiet room grew quieter, shielded from the outside, occasionally broken by her irrepressible sounds.

Her fingers intertwined with his, hands clasped. His fierce kisses invaded her mouth, leaving her breathless, their bodies connected in sync, as if rolling in waves.

Her fair skin flushed pink, dark hair scattered on light sheets, body glistening with sweat. Too weak to care about her pose, she felt filled repeatedly, her soul adrift.

After broken gasps, the frenzy stopped.

In the long silence, he didn’t rush to leave, his thumb rubbing her lips. “What do you think about all day?”

Still hazy, she murmured, “…?”

“This afternoon, you were thinking about breaking up. Tonight, you’re wondering if I’m keeping you.”

He sighed helplessly, brushing her sweat-dampened hair. “Can’t you think something nice about me?”

Her eyes, red at the corners, gazed at him wetly.

“Like—” He paused, then kissed her deeply:

“I really love you.”

“We’ll be together forever.”