Chapter 11: Going Home with My Sister

The call was made.

The name displayed on the screen was boldly marked as “Lord of the Underworld.”

It connected almost instantly.

“Hello?” The deep, cold voice of He Jingyue was crystal clear even amidst the noisy background of the bar.

At that moment, Lu Qiuyi felt as if the world was spinning wildly before her eyes.

She only saw the phone screen glowing, a blurry figure swaying.

“Hello? Handsome?” Lu Qiuyi slurred dizzily.

“Are you one of those they called over? Even more handsome than those guys! How much? Tonight, let sister take you away.”

Silence fell on the other end of the line.

“Send me your location.” He Jingyue’s voice was ice-cold, each word squeezed out from between clenched teeth.

“Ah? Location?” Lu Qiuyi giggled foolishly at the screen. “Handsome, you’re so cold and aloof. But, sister likes it.”

She carelessly swiped across the screen and shared her live location.

Twenty minutes later, He Jingyue arrived.

Still dressed in a perfectly tailored black suit, his figure tall and straight like a pine tree, starkly out of place amid the dazzling, chaotic, and drunken revelry around him.

His exquisitely handsome face showed no expression, lips pressed thin, eyes scanning the disorderly dance floor and seating area until they pinpointed the figure surrounded by three young men, holding a glass and laughing foolishly.

He strode forward, ignoring the admiring and curious gazes cast his way, heading straight to Lu Qiuyi’s booth.

The overwhelming pressure made the three young men who had been vying for Lu Qiuyi’s attention fall silent instinctively, stepping aside with some fear.

He Jingyue stood before her and enunciated each syllable: “Lu… Qiu… Yi.”

Lu Qiuyi lifted her head, dazed and bleary-eyed, looking up at the tall, straight figure before her.

The shifting lights of the bar cast shadows across his sharply defined face, making his features appear even more sculpted and divine, as if a deity had descended.

She blinked, her senses dulled completely by alcohol.

“Wow.”

Lu Qiuyi staggered to her feet, sticking out a finger to boldly and playfully poke at He Jingyue’s tightly pressed lips.

“You’re the handsome guy from the phone? You’re a thousand times better looking in person.”

Why was he somewhat familiar?

“Never mind. Sister’s got money, come on, let’s go home with me!”

The surrounding atmosphere instantly fell into an eerie silence. The three male models stared dumbfounded, too stunned to breathe.

The bar manager, recognizing He Jingyue, went pale, wanting to approach but afraid to.

Just before Lu Qiuyi’s finger could touch his lips, He Jingyue’s expression darkened completely.

He grabbed her restless wrist with a force that made her cry out in pain.

“Go home? Fine, I’ll take you home.”

He took off his suit jacket, carrying his unique crisp cedar scent, and roughly draped it over the bare shoulder revealed by Lu Qiuyi’s dress.

Then, in full view of everyone, he bent down and swept her up into a perfect princess carry.

Lu Qiuyi’s body was limp and offered no support, her slightly cool arms weakly draped over his broad shoulders.

Her loose hair, tinged with the mixed scents of smoke and alcohol from the bar, brushed against his exposed neck, bringing a slight tickle, mingling with the lingering gardenia scent and strong whiskey on her.

A breeze blew, and Lu Qiuyi seemed to sober up slightly. Nestled in He Jingyue’s solid, warm embrace, the scent of cedar at her nose inexplicably comforted her.

Unconsciously, she rubbed against his chest, seeking a more comfortable spot, mumbling indistinctly, “Handsome, you smell really good, much better than those artificial scents from before. I’ll pay you extra when we get home…”

He Jingyue’s grip on her arm tightened sharply. He looked down at the defenseless, charmingly drunk woman in his arms; a complex emotion stirred in his eyes, one even he hadn’t noticed before.

He strode to the black Rolls-Royce Phantom parked by the roadside. The driver respectfully opened the rear door.

Seeing He Jingyue carrying the unconscious Lu Qiuyi wrapped in his expensive suit, the driver held his breath, carefully closed the door, and took his seat, eyes fixed ahead.

“To the Champs-Élysées,” He Jingyue said flatly, revealing no emotion, yet the air in the car thickened with tension.

The driver dared not ask questions and started the car immediately. The Rolls-Royce Phantom silently slipped into the night.

In the back seat, Lu Qiuyi was settled into the spacious seat, her body still sliding softly downward. He Jingyue frowned and put an arm around her shoulders to prevent her from hitting the door.

She seemed uncomfortable in that position and unconsciously rubbed against him, mumbling, “Handsome…”

He Jingyue lowered his gaze, looking at the defenseless, adorably drunk face in his arms.

The usual caution and forced composure were completely gone. The alcohol had stripped away all pretenses, revealing a nearly childlike stubbornness.

Wet eyelashes cast faint shadows beneath her eyes; her cheeks were flushed, lips slightly pouted. The dark suit jacket contrasted sharply with the exposed neck and a small patch of collarbone, making her look exceptionally pale and fragile in the dim light of the car.

Perhaps this was the truest side of her, once the Lu family’s pawn was peeled away?

The thought flashed quickly before being overtaken by a deeper coldness.

He Jingyue took out his phone, lighting up the screen, which displayed a message from Su Nuo: “Checked. Lu Mingxuan was indeed at the ‘Bamboo Melody’ private room in Blue Sky Lake Teahouse tonight. Lu Qiuyi arrived later and stayed about an hour.”

The car smoothly entered the underground garage of the Champs-Élysées Garden. The elevator took them directly to the penthouse.

The apartment’s smart sensor lights illuminated softly as they entered, casting warm light over the luxurious yet cold space.

Butler Chen Bo was already waiting by the entrance. Seeing He Jingyue carrying the unconscious Lu Qiuyi, surprise flickered briefly in his eyes, but his professionalism immediately took over as he bowed his head: “Sir, you’re back.”

He Jingyue did not respond, carrying Lu Qiuyi straight to the guest room.

Chen Bo hesitated, then softly said, “Sir, this young lady seems to have had quite a lot of whiskey. Shall I prepare some sobering soup?”

He Jingyue gave a faint “hmm.”

He laid Lu Qiuyi on the soft, large bed with no great gentleness.

She sank into the fluffy bedding, her long hair spread over the dark pillow, the white dress slightly wrinkled.

He Jingyue stood by the bed, his gaze quietly scrutinizing her. The warm yellow light by the bedside outlined her sleeping profile, stripped of her usual defiance and disguise, appearing unusually peaceful.

His expression was indifferent. He raised a hand to loosen his tie, faint veins visible on the back of his hand during the motion.

He needed to find out exactly what Lu Mingxuan had said to her tonight.

“Mm…”

At that moment, a soft, cool hand seemed to move unintentionally, then grasped his forearm—slightly bulging from loosening his tie—with precise strength.

Not heavy, but possessing an undeniable presence.