Touch with your fingers.
It was an utterly seductive phrase.
Mingzhu hesitated, feeling the long fingers on her wrist give a gentle tap as if urging her on. She drew a shallow breath, straightened her spine, and focused all her attention on her fingertips.
First came the warm, soft skin.
Her fingers moved gently, scattered strands of black hair brushing softly against her hand.
Downward, she traced the prominent brow bone, connecting to the high, straight nose. Her fingertips lightly, ever so lightly, swept over the slightly deep-set eye sockets, teasing the thick, long lashes.
Then came the cheek, the sharply defined jawline...
Just as Mingzhu tried to withdraw her hand, it was firmly held in place.
The man's voice was low and husky: "There's one place left untouched, Xiao Zhu. How could you run off before finishing?"
Her slender white fingers were pressed back onto Shang Chi's face.
Resting on his bridge of the nose, she could faintly feel the warmth of his breath brush against her palm.
Mingzhu's fingers twitched. Her ears flushed crimson beyond her control. She swallowed quietly before sliding her fingers downward.
First, she traced the sharp curve of his lip line.
Shang Chi possessed fierce brow bones, a high, straight nose, and a defined jaw—every feature sharp and rigid.
Yet even the hardest man possessed soft lips.
When her trembling fingertips pressed against them, a soft breath brushed over, teasing the most sensitive nerve.
Whether intentional or not,
as Mingzhu's fingers touched, the lips that had been slightly parted closed.
Peck.
It became a kiss landing on her fingertip.
Light as a feather, yet heavy as thunder.
Fireworks exploded in Mingzhuo's mind. She yanked her hand back like a startled animal, her long lashes fluttering as she stumbled back two steps.
Stammering, she blurted, "I... I'm done checking. I'll head back to my room now."
She turned and fled.
The ends of her hair traced an arc through the air, leaving behind a faint, sweet grape scent.
With a bang, the door slammed shut in her panic.
Shang Chi stood in the kitchen, slowly straightening up. He watched the fleeing figure retreat, then touched his own lips.
Suddenly, he chuckled softly.
-
Perhaps, maybe, probably because after touching Shang Chi, she ran back to her room to quietly savor the memory for a while.
Mingzhuo had a... rather vivid dream.
The teenager's clear, moist voice mingled with the deep, gentle tones of a grown man, breathing heavily against her ear. Her ear pressed against the firm, muscular chest, where she could hear the heartbeat.
Thump, thump.
Beat after beat.
Pounding against her.
The next morning, Mingzhu sat on the bed recalling details, covering her flushed face, too embarrassed to leave the room.
Through the door, she heard Shang Chi get up, open the door, wash up quietly, and later the sound of the security door closing. Only when everything fell silent did she push open her door and step out.
Even though she was in her own home, she moved with the caution of a thief.
Her phone buzzed with a voice message from Shang Chi.
"Xiao Zhu, I'm off to work. Breakfast's in the kitchen."
The rice cooker held warm vegetable and shredded pork congee, with a salted duck egg beside it.
What surprised Ming Zhu was that despite rushing to work, Shang Chi had taken the time to peel an orange. He'd carefully placed the intact peel back over it to keep it fresh, setting it aside on a plate for her.
After washing up, she sat at the table and finished the perfectly seasoned congee.
She picked up her phone and sent Shang Chi a voice message thanking him.
Mingzhu had no part-time job today and no plans to go out. After clearing the dishes, she headed to the piano room.
During the renovation, Qi Lan had the room fully lined with soundproofing material. With the windows and door closed, even a concert inside would only produce faint sounds outside.
This allowed Mingzhu to practice anytime without neighbors above or below knocking to complain about noise.
No sooner had she sat down on the piano bench than her phone buzzed.
Shang Chi replied with a voice message: "Up already? Got plans today?"
Mingzhu picked up her phone.
"Planning to practice piano at home, preparing for Huayu's assessment."
Shang Chi, seemingly unoccupied, replied promptly.
"What'd you like for lunch? I can order delivery."
Mingzhu had intended to grab noodles at the neighborhood restaurant.
But since Shang Chi offered, she curved her lips, accepting without refusal. "Sure thing."
...
Buzz—
The phone, casually placed on the table, vibrated softly.
The department head, mid-report in the conference room, paused for a moment. Like the others, he glanced swiftly at his phone before forcing his attention back to the presentation, picking up where he left off.
The PowerPoint slides advanced with the department head's gestures.
A slender, pale hand rose, the wedding band at its base catching the light. Long fingers picked up the phone, unlocked it, and tapped the short voice message.
Shang Chi sat lazily at the head of the long table, her eyelids drooping with weariness. Long lashes concealed the expression in her dark eyes, and a Bluetooth earpiece was clipped to one ear.
The girl's voice was sweet and soft, her tone obedient as she replied.
"Okay."
Shang Chi's lips curved upward in a lazy smile as he tapped the voice memo again.
Only after listening to the "Okay" repeated over a dozen times did he place the phone back on the table, leaving the earpiece in. His long lashes fluttered upward, fixing his gaze on the department head still delivering the report.
Once the weekly meeting concluded, Shang Chi rose first and departed. His figure vanished around the corner before murmurs of conversation began to ripple through the conference room.
"President Shang's presence is truly formidable."
One department head patted his chest, still shaken.
A colleague beside him chimed in, "You bet. Chairman Shang runs meetings with extreme rigor—picking apart details, setting examples. As long as you don't make mistakes and have nothing to hide, you're fine. But President Shang..."
Shang Chi and his elder brother Shang Heng had entirely different management styles.
Shang Heng was coldly stern and meticulous, steering the grand vision while attending to minutiae—like a solitary alpha wolf commanding the snowy plains.
But Shang Chi—
Every year when Shang Heng was swamped and handed headquarters affairs to his younger brother, the executives would feel a chill run down their spines.
The man wore a smile, his dark eyes crinkling slightly, his tone lazy and unhurried, appearing utterly agreeable.
In reality, he was a wolf in sheep's clothing—his eyes held a mocking, icy calm, ready to bare fangs and tear flesh from his victims at any moment.
During Shang Chi's first year at the company, a self-important shareholder—claiming to be a friend of their father and an elder to both brothers—arrogantly tried to micromanage Shang Chi.
Then he ended up behind bars for drunk driving, embezzling kickbacks, and misconduct—becoming the subject of others' finger-pointing.
Fortunately, over the years, the executives came to understand Shang Chi's temperament. As long as they didn't deliberately provoke him, he couldn't be bothered to engage.
While tidying up documents, the group murmured among themselves.
"Did you see the ring on Mr. Shang's finger? He really got married?"
"It's true. Word leaked from Xiao Fang's side. Just don't know which family's daughter it is. Mr. Shang kept it pretty tight-lipped."
"Wow, I couldn't believe it when I saw that ring. When Chairman Shang got married back in the day, he splurged on a million-dollar antique ring. How come this time it was so quiet? Such a tiny diamond? Doesn't seem like Mr. Shang's style at all."
The person being questioned also looked puzzled, offering only a guess: "Probably because Mr. Shang prefers to keep a low profile. Doesn't want to show off."
The supposedly low-key Mr. Shang walked back to his office as his phone buzzed twice more.
It wasn't Mingzhu, but a group chat with his childhood friends.
Yuan Zhenglang and Meng Yue had set their engagement date for next weekend. They snapped a photo of the invitation and posted it in the group.
The chat exploded with laughter and congratulations.
[Yuan Zhenglang: Wedding next May. @Liang Yuda @Shang Chi—busy guys, please clear your schedules to be my best men [bow]]
[Zhong Yun: Congrats! Wishing you a smooth wedding!]
[Liang Yuda: OK. By the way, does the bride have any pretty bridesmaids I can meet? [blush]]
[Zhong Yun: Scumbag!]
Blessing emojis popped up one after another.
Shang Chi lazily lowered his gaze, tapping the screen with his fingertips before casually dropping a bombshell.
[Shang Chi: I'll attend on time, but I can't be a best man—I'm married.]
[Zhong Yun: ?]
[Liang Yuda: ?]
[Yuan Zhenglang: ?]
[Shang Chi: Can I bring family to the engagement banquet?]
He wanted to bring Mingzhu along.
Not for anything special.
She's just too adorable—he wanted them to see that this is his wife.