Luring Her to Take the Bait - Chapter 3

So, the first time Pei Wenjin met Fu Su, she had already taken advantage of her.

…

She was numb.

“Ahhh—”

Pei Wenjin flopped onto the bed with a thud, burying herself in the quilt like a little puppy rolling in a mud pit. She clenched her fists and drummed them against the mattress, kicking and thrashing until the quilt was sent flying onto the floor.

Following her wild movements, her ear tips—exposed from beneath her stray hairs—were beet red, burning with shame and indignation.

Her heart was pounding wildly. Pei Wenjin felt as if she were skydiving; that same frequency of a heart in freefall before the parachute opens.

Thinking back to these past few years, how she had frequented “Scarlet Fever” every night, sitting at the bar facing Fu Su, drinking the Screwdrivers she mixed, pestering her, smiling as she teased her, and rambling about recent trivia… she felt mortified.

How… how could this person have caused such a massive blunder!

Did Fu Su still remember that incident?

If she did, what must she have thought, watching Pei Wenjin flutter around in front of her every day…

At the thought of this, Pei Wenjin felt a soul-crushing embarrassment.

She shook her head vigorously, turning to comfort herself.

Fu Su must have forgotten. She must have forgotten, otherwise, why would she tolerate her constant chattering every single night?

Fu Su was cold and aloof, hidden behind a mask and hat, never acknowledging anyone. No matter what was said, she remained unruffled, making one feel as if she wasn’t even listening.

Except for those eyes. They would occasionally land on the back of Pei Wenjin’s hand. When Pei Wenjin was about to order an unknown number of Screwdrivers, Fu Su would calmly begin cleaning the shaker, return the ice to the bucket, take off her gloves, and operate the machine to push a bill toward her.

Only then would Pei Wenjin realize that Fu Su had actually been listening the whole time.

She noticed how many glasses she drank, noticed the slightly tipsy, misty shimmer in her eyes, and noticed the trace of intoxication in her slurred voice.

“Scarlet Fever” had a safety code for customers. Bartenders and mixologists had to monitor a guest’s condition in real-time. Unless someone explicitly stated they intended to get drunk and had a companion, those who came to drown their sorrows over a breakup were almost always cut off, assisted with a taxi or a designated driver to ensure their safety.

Fu Su was always so cold, as if uttering a single word would cost her life.

But Pei Wenjin didn’t care about the “cold shoulder.”

Because those eyes spoke. Under the dim, chaotic spotlights, those steady, tranquil eyes provided a sense of groundedness, silently saying: It’s time to go home.

Because she had never seen Fu Su’s full face, because she had only heard that calm, steady voice twice, and because she could only glimpse her snow-white skin, deep dark eyes, and that small red mole—positioned under the right eye near the center of her face—which broke her icy exterior and was immensely attractive and mysterious.

To Pei Wenjin, this was an irresistible temptation that she hadn’t tired of in ten years.

If she could make such a cold person show a smile, turning those indifferent eyes into crescents, what a massive sense of accomplishment that would be.

Consequently, she immediately accepted that the person she needed to “take responsibility” for was Fu Su.

Pei Wenjin lay prone on the bed, buried in the fluffy pillows. Her white satin lace nightgown traced her graceful curves, full and rounded, while a pair of slender, fair legs peeked from beneath the hem. Her breath warmed the air inside the covers.

With a roll, her soft, messy hair splayed across her face, framing a cheek flushed pink—whether from the heat of the blanket or something else entirely. She bit her lip, sat up, and grabbed her phone.

She opened WeChat and entered the chat with Changxia.

She typed, then edited, then deleted. After a long struggle, she finally cleared it all, tossed the phone aside, and stared blankly while hugging a little wolf plushie.

As her eyelids drooped, her soulful eyes seemed to lose their spark, like falling stars.

It was late; she shouldn’t disturb Changxia.

She suddenly thought: Should I really tell Fu Su the truth?

Saying that she kissed her ten years ago, remembered it ten years later, and now wants to take responsibility by proposing marriage?

But getting married just because of a kiss? What era is this? It’s too overbearing and nonsensical. People would think she was a fool for giving such a reason.

What should she do? Even with a better reason, would a cold person like Fu Su agree to marry her?

No.

Pei Wenjin ran to brush her teeth again and curled back into her silk comforter. The smooth, skin-friendly fabric soothed her low mood.

A few minutes later, she turned on the projector and picked up her Switch…

The flickering screen reflected on her rosy cheeks. The “Little Princess” never went to sleep carrying a bad mood.

Fu Su finished her day of supervising interns. There were quite a few summer interns this year. When she left the conference room, the orange-pink sunset was splashed across the white micro-cement floor like spilled paint.

It was past quitting time, but the law firm was still bustling. Aside from the Paris merger case, other cases were proceeding simultaneously. Those living nearby stayed until the early hours; those living far away didn’t even leave, making do in the lounge.

This was the norm for the firm.

A female colleague saw Fu Su, shoulder bag in hand, and greeted her with a smile. “Sister Fu Su, how’s the quality of the interns this time? Any promising candidates? Our team needs some fresh blood.”

Fu Su looked up from her phone. Her gaze was cool as she shook her head and simply said, “Go home.”

The colleague sighed helplessly, teasingly complaining, “Your standards are still so high. We’re going to work ourselves to death at this rate!”

She rubbed her aching neck and vented, “I never want to go through these three months again. My legs are nearly broken from chasing down evidence.”

“Sister Fu Su, aren’t you tired? I heard from Sister Wen that right after the infringement case ended, you immediately took on a… what was it? A divorce case?”

“Yes,” Fu Su replied.

“A total workaholic, haha.”

Actually, for lawyers at the partner level, they rarely took on civil or criminal cases. The fees were low, the time cost was high, and it didn’t align with the “high net worth” positioning.

But Fu Su didn’t care. She only cared about helping more women escape dire situations. Her colleagues actually admired her for this.

Fu Su returned to her office. Even though it was time to leave, she didn’t. She pulled a file box from the shelf and took out a stack of documents.

She reviewed them while taking notes and organizing evidence. However, when she reached the injury assessment form, her pen stalled. Her thin lips pursed unconsciously, and a look of gravity crossed her face.

The client in this divorce case was a woman suffering from domestic violence. She had reported it to the police before, but was “counseled” into reconciling.

There was only one injury assessment—a large bruise on the cheek.

With only this level of injury, the court would rarely grant a divorce.

Fu Su sighed softly.

Domestic violence was inherently difficult to define, the threshold for filing a case was high, reconciliation was prioritized over separation, and judgments were conservative. Combined with the privacy of the setting, gathering evidence was extremely difficult.

It was after 9:00 PM when Fu Su finally pulled her head out of the materials, rubbing the bridge of her nose and taking a heavy breath before drinking some water.

It was depressing to handle these types of cases.

She picked up her black-cased phone and opened WeChat.

Pei Wenjin had sent her a message three hours ago.

[Changxia, I found her! It’s the one I told you about, that bartender!]

A flicker of emotion moved in Fu Su’s eyes. She replied: [So, have you made up your mind?]

The other party seemed to be camping in the chat window, replying almost instantly.

[Furball]: [I don’t know.]

[Furball]: [I don’t know how to tell her. Should I say I kissed her ten years ago and now I want to marry her to take responsibility? Someone as cold as her would never agree; the reason is too brainless.]

Fu Su couldn’t help but smile.

Thinking about it, it was true. Based on her own personality, if someone said to her, “I kissed your cheek once, so I want to marry you,” she would just think that person was crazy.

But the person was Pei Wenjin—the person she had been secretly in love with for ten years. Knowing Pei Wenjin was exactly that kind of person, she didn’t find it “brainless,” only cute and sincere.

She asked: [Then what do you plan to do?]

[Furball] replied: [I’ll play it by ear?]

[Anyway, I have to go to the bar to find her first and scout out some info. If it turns out she doesn’t like girls, then I’ll just come clean. Like you said before, I’ll confess and then offer some practical compensation, and then the matter will be over.]

As soon as Si Wenyu entered Fu Su’s office, she saw a certain someone staring intensely at her phone. She teased her, the rhythm of her high heels on the floor sounding graceful.

“Fu Su, chatting with the Little Princess? I sent you a message and you didn’t even reply.”

She let out a scoffing laugh and pointed at her. “Double-standard dog.”

Ever since Si Wenyu found out Fu Su had a crush on the CEO of the Pei Corporation, she had been teasing her with the term “Little Princess.” Fu Su remained indifferent, which Si Wenyu found even more amusing.

Fu Su clicked her phone shut and looked up at her calmly. “Finished your work?”

Si Wenyu toyed with her freshly permed waves, her lips a vivid red. “Not yet, but it’s time to relax.”

She swayed her hips; even a serious pencil skirt was worn with an air of allure by her.

Si Wenyu fished a slender lady’s cigarette from her bag, grabbed the lighter from Fu Su’s desk, leaned against the edge, and with a crisp clink, struck the flint. A flame flickered to life, followed by a sizzling sound. The scent of cool menthol drifted from her red lips.

“These past few months have been exhausting. Now that things have eased up slightly, Serein and I are going to the pool hall. Want to join?”

Si Wenyu held the cigarette between her lips, playing with the thin, lightweight silver lighter in her hand as she arched an eyebrow.

Fu Su’s expression remained cool. She reached out to turn on the air purifier without looking at her. “Don’t smoke in my office.”

Si Wenyu rolled her eyes, took a deep drag, and then pressed the cigarette into a crystal ashtray to extinguish it.

“So, are you coming or not? You’re not going to that bar again, are you? Please, sister, your life is too boring. Aside from cases, it’s the Little Princess—don’t you have anything else going on?”

“Are you a ‘love-brain’ or what!?”

“I didn’t say I wasn’t going,” Fu Su suddenly spoke. She looked down at the message, the corners of her mouth curling slightly.

[Furball]: [I’m going to the bar tonight to find her. Wish me luck!]

[Changxia]: [Good luck.]

She packed the case files into her briefcase and looked up at the stunned Si Wenyu, her tone casual. “Why are you standing there? Aren’t we going?”

Si Wenyu: “…We are. It’s just, I’m shocked. You’re finally willing to relax?”

Fu Su: “No need to be shocked.”

“What are you putting in your bag? You’re not planning to read files while we play pool, are you?”

“It’s a public place; it’s against the rules.”

“True, you aren’t that stupid.”

Fu Su: “…”

And so, a certain “bad person” stood the Little Princess up.

That evening, Pei Wenjin arrived at “Scarlet Fever” and went straight to the bar.

Behind the bar was a girl with shoulder-length hair. She sat down and greeted her. “Hi, Qiuqiu. You’re the main mixologist tonight.”

Qiuqiu smiled. “Yes, President Pei. A Screwdriver again today?”

Pei Wenjin shook her head. She climbed onto the high stool, propped her elbows on the bar, leaned in close, and waved Qiuqiu over.

She didn’t know why, but she felt like her next words had to be said in secret.

Leaning into her ear, her voice was lighter than falling snow. “Qiuqiu, do you know what time Su… Fu Su is coming?”

She rarely used the full name, and this time it felt a bit “hot” on her tongue.

“Fu Su?”

Pei Wenjin nodded slowly amidst the dizzying lights.

“Hmm…” Qiuqiu’s breath was muffled by her mask, carrying the stuffiness of summer. Pei Wenjin leaned in closer, licking her lips and staring at her without blinking.

“She hasn’t been coming lately. It seems she took personal leave. She’s been away for a while. Why don’t you try coming back tomorrow?”

The bubble blown by the goldfish suddenly went pop.

Pei Wenjin sat back on the stool and ordered a Gin and Tonic at random.

Sipping her drink, she asked quietly, “Do you have Fu Su’s number? Can you give it to me?”

That night, Pei Wenjin ate hazelnut cake while staring at the phone number in her contacts.

In the end, she didn’t make the call.

The next night, she went to the bar again to stake it out, but Fu Su was still on leave.

Twice now. The “Little President” Pei’s patience had run out. Before she even finished her drink, using the noisy jazz music to cover her pounding heart, she held her breath and dialed Fu Su’s number.

During the long wait, the ringing sound toyed with her heart like waves.

When the call automatically disconnected because no one answered, Pei Wenjin let out a heavy sigh and slumped onto the bar, her back feeling chilled by the air conditioning.

Tonight ended in failure again.

The person wasn’t there, and the phone went unanswered.

The next day, Pei Wenjin told Ye Zhen directly to find out where Fu Su was and what she was doing.

Finding someone was simple; the news arrived in less time than it took to finish a cup of tea.

“President Pei.”

Pei Wenjin’s fingers tightened against the desk, her gaze fixed intently on Ye Zhen.

Ye Zhen’s tone was as indifferent as ever, but the content hit Pei Wenjin like a bolt from the blue.

“The person you are looking for is currently at Time Cafe.”

“On a blind date.”