The person lifted his white sleeve, revealing half of a strong and muscular arm.
When he curled his fingers again, Cui Yunchu immediately hugged the bead tightly.
The man on the soft couch had his long legs crossed and resting on the armrest, leaning against a cushion behind him, his eyes slightly closed, his cheeks flushed, reeking of alcohol.
His thin, sharp lips seemed a bit swollen, his cold, clean-cut features captivating enough to make it hard to look away.
He wore a lazy, indifferent expression, and his collar was slightly open due to his sprawling posture.
Cui Yunchu stared at him, dumbfounded.
Excessively beautiful people and things always drew one’s gaze.
Forcing herself to look away, she stood up and glanced around. The hall was empty, save for Shen Xiabai, who seemed drunk.
Her eyes drifted back to Shen Xiabai.
Truly a feast for the eyes.
But Cui Yunchu only appreciated the view; she had no intention of overstepping.
Without a word, she lowered her head to untie the thin string on the bead.
The string was tied very tightly, like a net encasing the luminous pearl.
Unable to loosen it, Cui Yunchu fixed her gaze on Shen Xiabai’s index finger.
She moved closer slowly, focusing intently, and carefully reached out to untie the rope.
But one end of the string seemed to be clenched in his palm.
Cui Yunchu tugged, but it didn’t budge.
She pulled harder, yet the string remained motionless, held fast.
Growing tired, Cui Yunchu gathered her strength to try again. After all, since she had come this far, she couldn’t leave empty-handed. Whether it was Prince An’s scheme or Shen Xiabai’s plot, this bead had to belong to the Cui family today.
No, it had to belong to Cui Yunchu.
Just as she was about to pull again, a cold, faint voice suddenly broke the silence. “Haven’t you noticed? My finger’s swollen and red from the string; it’s about to snap?”
The thin string was wrapped around his index finger, with the other end held in his palm. Each time Cui Yunchu pulled, the string tightened on that finger.
Now, the string was coiled tightly around his finger, causing the small segment to swell an angry red.
Cui Yunchu, “…”
“…”
She froze and looked up slowly, meeting the man’s deep, drunken, hazy black eyes.
“I thought you were drunk.”
So, just because he was drunk and unconscious, she’d break his hand over some trashy bead?
“Some people toy with me like a dog, using their wealth to mock a poor soul like me. Naturally, I can’t leave empty-handed.”
Shen Xiabai watched her, spreading his palm. “It wasn’t me. I drank too much.”
Prince An had told him to rest for a while, saying he’d send someone to take him back. He rarely drank himself to the point of unconsciousness outside in public—perhaps it was the sting of every pointed word from Prince An and the Crown Prince during the feast.
But he had to admit, it really had hit him hard.
Cui Yunchu said nothing.
The distance between them wasn’t large, and every exhale from him carried a strong smell of alcohol, making his words seem truthful.
“What are you spacing out for? Don’t want the bead anymore?” Shen Xiabai looked down at her.
Cui Yunchu eyed his finger, swollen and high from her tugging so hard that the string was barely visible.
To untie it, she’d have to touch it with her fingertips.
Should she just get up and leave, or go for the luminous pearl? Cui Yunchu furrowed her brows, starting to hesitate.
The gaze above her grew increasingly scorching and unguarded. Flushed and flustered, Cui Yunchu steeled herself.
She had already kissed him, so what else mattered? This was a luminous pearl. If it had been gold ingots, she might have had the backbone to walk away, but the pearl was valuable enough to buy back all her dignity.
She reached out to untie it.
The man clicked his tongue, his voice low. “Gently.”
Cui Yunchu glanced at the spot where the string had nearly cut into his flesh, felt a pang of conscience, and mumbled a reply. “Okay.”
She bent down, concentrating on undoing the string, while Shen Xiabai’s gaze remained fixed on her.
“You really like luminous pearls?”
“Who doesn’t like silver?” Cui Yunchu answered.
Yes, she had said it before—her favorites were gold and silver treasures.
“Would you do anything for them?” he asked again.
Cui Yunchu paused briefly, bit her lip, and said nothing.
Shen Xiabai let out a soft laugh. “So the Eldest Miss Cui does have some principles after all.”
“No, I don’t. I once considered marrying Gu Xuan’s father. That way, I could kill Gu Xuan and inherit the Gu family’s vast fortune. There’s nothing luckier than a dead husband and inherited wealth.”
“…”
Shen Xiabai’s face instantly darkened.
“Inheriting wealth and having a dead husband don’t necessarily have to clash.”
Couldn’t they coexist?
But a faint unease lingered—a testament to her obsession with killing Gu Xuan.
She would sacrifice everything to kill him.
Cui Yunchu raised an eyebrow. “If the husband’s not dead, how can I inherit the fortune?”
“Even alive, it’s all yours,” Shen Xiabai said.
“That’s different.”
“In what way?”
Cui Yunchu lifted her gaze and said seriously, “If he’s alive, his money is for keeping concubines. If he’s dead, his money is for keeping gigolos.”
“…”
Shen Xiabai felt the urge to strangle Cui Yunchu right then and there.
Her thought process could drive anyone mad.
Drive him mad.
He had hinted to her that to gain wealth, she only needed to win the person who owned it—and she’d have what she wanted.
But she told him that what she wanted was to kill her husband and seize the fortune.
The drunken haze was half-gone with anger as Shen Xiabai closed his eyes, draping one arm over his forehead, letting Cui Yunchu mess with his finger.
He didn’t want to say another word.
After who knows how long, his voice drifted out again, strangely. “Aren’t you afraid the gigolo will kill you for your money?”
“To die under a peony’s bloom—even as a ghost, I’d be a romantic.”
Unable to endure it any longer, Shen Xiabai kicked her with restrained force.
Cui Yunchu sat on the ground, blinking her clear, innocent eyes.
“What’s wrong, Lord Shen? Do you want to be my early-dead husband?”
“…”
Shen Xiabai glared at her fiercely, grinding his teeth in rage, yet helpless.
“Don’t worry, my fate’s tough.”
Cui Yunchu’s smile froze, her red lips pursing slightly.
His finger was numb from the string, but when she touched it seriously, her breath brushing against it, a strange itch surged.
Shen Xiabai curled his finger slightly, and his fingertip unconsciously stroked her soft little finger.
Cui Yunchu’s face turned an angry red. “Don’t move.”
“…”
Shen Xiabai looked at her wide-eyed, angry expression, pressed his lips together, and stayed silent.
The string was tied around his finger, yet he didn’t dare pull his hand away or say he wouldn’t give it to her.
With great effort, Cui Yunchu managed to untie the string. Ignoring Shen Xiabai’s battered finger, she clasped the luminous pearl and beamed.
She wiped it, rubbed it, then kissed and nibbled on it.
“…”
Shen Xiabai half-leaned back, smirking as he watched her laugh.
Only when she carefully tucked it into her gown did he speak unhurriedly. “This luminous pearl is cheap—not worth much.”
Cui Yunchu froze mid-motion.
How could that be? Weren’t good luminous pearls supposed to be priceless?
Shen Xiabai said, “It’s just an ordinary street-market bead.”
Cui Yunchu’s face wore an expression of disbelief.
Shen Xiabai reached into his chest and pulled out another pearl. “This one is the real tribute.”
Cui Yunchu took out the one from her bosom and compared it with Shen Xiabai’s, realizing that hers was like a firefly next to the moon.
She pressed her lips into a straight line, feeling somewhat annoyed, but when she looked at Shen Xiabai’s pearl, her eyes were filled with undisguised greed.
Then, Shen Xiabai clasped that pearl in his palm and placed it back into his chest.
Cui Yunchu’s gaze followed his hand, landing on his chest.
A hint of laughter flickered in Shen Xiabai’s eyes. “I have a whole box of pearls like this at my place, Eldest Miss Cui. Care to take a look?”
Cui Yunchu shook her head.
