Volume One, Chapter Nine: The Abs Photo He Sent by Mistake

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Chu Yan cursed under her breath, and when she happened to look up, she saw her own mother and brother both glaring at her with fierce eyes, which only irritated her further. She decided to ignore them outright, turned around, and walked to the other side to take a call.

Chu Yutang was angered by Chu Yan’s attitude, but then he paused and sensed something was off.

“Mom, could it be that she’s hiding some benefit from us? Acting all secretive like this.”

Li Meifeng shook her head. “She wouldn’t dare. We put in a lot of effort to make her smoothly become the woman of the Shang family. Unless she no longer wants to marry into the Shang family.”

Chu Yutang felt reassured. “I promised Uncle Li that once my sister marries into the Shang family, I’d recommend him to my future brother-in-law. Even though Jia Jia and I truly love each other, promises must be kept, right, Mom?”

“Of course. Once your sister marries Shang Linyuan, I’ll also make sure the Shang family gives benefits to the Li family.”

The mother and son chatted animatedly. Meanwhile, Chu Yan had already hung up the phone, her face cold as frost as she approached.

Before they could ask, Chu Yan spoke first: “Want some benefits, huh? Then do something for me.”

Night fell, cool and serene.

In the glow of the streetlights, fallen leaves occasionally spiraled down.

All was silent. Lu Xiaoman leaned against the headboard, wide awake.

She looked down at the black avatar on her phone and poked it a few times.

When she left here years ago, she had deliberately deleted and blocked every contact of the man, thinking she’d never see him again, not even in death.

But to her surprise... she had been added again so soon.

“Uncle Shang, my son Xiaoxi said the dinner was arranged by you. How much is it? I’ll transfer you the money...”

She typed the message but quickly deleted it.

Thinking back to Shang Linyuan’s casual compliment—“You’ve raised your son well”—her cheeks flushed, and her heart pounded slightly faster.

What did he mean by that? It sounded like he was praising the son they had together...

At that thought, Lu Xiaoman hurriedly deleted the words “my son Xiaoxi.”

But staring at the remaining message, she hesitated again.

In the past, she had eaten Shang Linyuan’s meals for over two years without paying a penny. Would emphasizing paying him for one meal now be too much?

The following words didn’t feel right either, so she deleted the entire message.

“Thank you for the dinner. No need to trouble yourself like this anymore...”

She tapped, erased, and retyped until she settled on this line.

Summoning her courage, she was about to hit send when her phone suddenly chimed.

It wasn’t the notification sound for her message going out; it was a new message from him.

Lu Xiaoman’s heart skipped a beat. Her fingers instinctively pulled back as if burned.

She nearly held her breath as she opened the new message.

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There was no text. Only a photo.

The background looked like a gym locker room. In the mirror’s reflection appeared a sharply defined waist and abdomen, honey-colored skin taut and smooth, a set of “mermaid lines” extending just below the low-rise workout pants, muscles glowing with health under the light...

It was his abs.

Lu Xiaoman’s mind shut down completely within three seconds.

Blood rushed to her head with a buzzing roar; her ears burned hot enough to fry an egg.

She could even hear the drumbeat of her own heart pounding painfully in her ears.

The image felt like a red-hot iron branding her retinas, bringing back memories of the vague outline beneath his white shirt, the collar soaked with sweat when he played basketball, the glimpse of his waistline when he bent down...

All the fragments she had secretly hidden suddenly pieced together into a clear picture.

Panicked, she tried to exit, pretending she hadn’t received this scorching hot potato, but her fingers trembled uncontrollably on the screen.

The next second, another message popped up.

“Do you like it?”

Lu Xiaoman’s mind crashed again.

But her heart gradually calmed.

Shang Linyuan’s phone had been stolen!

Otherwise, there was no way he would have sent this to her.

The next second, the chat window showed only a line in gray: “The message was withdrawn.”

Lu Xiaoman was stunned. The screen’s glow made her cheeks flush.

Withdrawn?

The phone wasn’t stolen?

Then he must have sent it to the wrong person.

Of course—he already had someone he liked. Such an intimate photo could never have been meant for her.

A thousand thoughts exploded like fireworks in her mind as she stared at the withdrawal note, her finger hovering over the input box, her eyes slowly reddening.

“Do you like it?”

“I like you. Do you like me?”

These two phrases repeated like a broken record in her head.

It was on some afternoon when she had eagerly run to Shang Linyuan’s study to tell him she had won first prize in the district’s essay contest, wanting to show him her award-winning piece...

A door away, she overheard Shang Linyuan confessing to someone.

“I like you. Do you like me?”

His deep, magnetic voice had haunted her ears for countless nights like a record, a secret recording she kept as her ringtone, the sound she needed to fall asleep every night.

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So how could she have misheard?

At that moment, her world collapsed.

An eighteen-year-old girl’s secret feelings, all the love she hadn’t dared to express, fell with the heavy award certificate that had hurt her fingers.

Her tentative tests hidden in words, her pretext of “sharing the joy of winning,” were nothing but a one-sided fantasy.

She didn’t even have the courage to step through the door and could only flee in panic—wanting to escape far, far away...

The phone’s chime cut through her thoughts.

Another message came through.

“Sent to the wrong person.”

Lu Xiaoman gripped her phone tightly but understood everything.

“It’s okay. Uncle Shang, thank you for the dinner. No need to trouble yourself like this anymore.”

The lingering heat from the photo seemed to hang in the air. She could clearly recall those sharp lines and the glimpse of his water-dappled neck reflected in the mirror.

But her heart no longer stirred a single ripple.

At the other end, in a large villa decorated in cold gray tones, the man had just finished bathing.

A black robe wrapped his tall, athletic frame. His jet-black hair was damp and messy with steam. He settled onto the sofa, lowering his gaze to focus on the phone.

Suddenly, his eyes narrowed.

“...No need to trouble yourself like this anymore.”

Ungrateful little thing.

Shang Linyuan tossed the phone aside and stood up.

The silk collar of his robe slipped loosely off one shoulder, revealing collarbones sharply carved as if by a blade, the mermaid lines on both sides tapering into deep shadows just where the robe’s loose belt hung.

He went to the wine cabinet, poured a glass of red wine, and sat on the terrace.

Sipping wine, admiring the moon.

Such bliss.

Just as Lu Xiaoman was about to fall asleep, the phone chimed again, waking her.

Bleary-eyed, she saw the message:

“You’re injured and can’t cook. Don’t let our son go hungry.”