After Running Away From Her Wedding, The Tsundere Young Lady Went Crazy - Chapter 12
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- After Running Away From Her Wedding, The Tsundere Young Lady Went Crazy
- Chapter 12 - The Curse
“I’m here to fall in love with you.”
“Do you believe in that curse?” Ji Songshu started the conversation.
“Of course not,” Shang Keyu replied firmly. “No one has the right to punish me—not even fate.”
The plan for a kiss was immediately declared bankrupt. Ji Songshu could only scratch her head and say, “What a coincidence; I don’t believe in it either.”
“We are trapped here simply because the facilities are too old and a malfunction occurred. Don’t worry, we just need to wait half an hour.”
Shang Keyu’s voice seemed to carry a convincing magic, and materialism once again occupied the high ground of Ji Songshu’s brain.
She nodded and said, “The facilities here are indeed too old.”
Shang Keyu looked at her, seemingly waiting for her to continue.
Ji Songshu caught the hint: “Mm, and the park’s pricing is too high.”
Shang Keyu nodded, the corners of her mouth rising slightly into what could almost be called a smile.
Then, Ji Songshu’s tone shifted: “But I will never admit that Toast Cat and Bagel Rabbit has anything bad about it!” That was her bottom line.
Shang Keyu looked at her and suddenly let out a laugh.
“How about this: I’ll hand over the management of the amusement park to you. As long as you can increase profits by 50% within six months, I’ll keep this place.”
“Huh?” Ji Songshu was taken aback. “I don’t understand business. Besides, that would make me your subordinate.”
She looked steadily at Shang Keyu’s face and said seriously, “I’m here to fall in love with you, not to work for you.”
Shang Keyu seemed shaken by her bluntness. She took a step back, pinched her chin, and thought for a moment before offering other terms: “Then use something else of value to exchange with me.”
Ji Songshu carefully recalled everything in her small room and came to a regrettable conclusion: “I don’t have anything of sufficient value to exchange with you.”
“You do. Think about it again,” Shang Keyu said persuasively.
Ji Songshu fell into thought. For a long while, she could only think of one thing: her blood, which was of a rare type. But Shang Keyu clearly wasn’t a vampire and wasn’t going to bite her neck.
So, she shook her head.
“I’ll give you a hint,” Shang Keyu took a step closer to her, tucking a strand of her long, falling hair behind her ear. “Merchants are creatures who measure everything in terms of money—including experience, senses, and… emotions.”
Ji Songshu stared blankly at the person in front of her.
Suddenly, Ji Songshu realized they were too close—close enough that she could see her own reflection in Shang Keyu’s dark eyes. The faint scent of red cherry wine lingered on the tip of her nose from Shang Keyu’s body.
Shang Keyu’s hand touched her earlobe and gave it a squeeze. Ji Songshu instantly felt a wave of numbness. In that instant, her ear felt heavy, as if a feather had brushed against her neck.
The next second, the lights went out. Darkness kissed everything.
Ji Songshu looked around in a panic. She reached forward and grabbed Shang Keyu’s arm, her nose inadvertently brushing against a soft spot.
“Ugh…”
Ji Songshu felt the person in front of her spring back. The cabin swayed in the darkness, followed by a heavy thud and a muffled groan from Shang Keyu.
Ji Songshu was dazed. She asked cautiously, “What’s wrong? Did you hit something?”
Shang Keyu leaned against the glass of the cabin, trying to calm herself down. However, her hand involuntarily touched her lips; the soft sensation still lingered there, stirring violently in her heart.
After a long time, Ji Songshu heard a long sigh.
“What a pity.”
“A pity for what?” Ji Songshu asked.
“The power went out. This place is too remote, and the infrastructure cannot be improved overnight. The power supply is unstable. If a research institute were built here and a power outage occurred, the losses would be immeasurable.”
Ji Songshu saw a glimmer of hope: “So, can you reconsider the matter of demolishing this place?”
“Mm, I won’t demolish it for now,” Shang Keyu concluded, lightly touching her lips.
Then she added, “This place is considered an old-brand amusement park. If some effort is put into the IP, it might become popular again.”
Shang Keyu’s night vision was excellent. Through the hazy darkness, she saw the irrepressible joy on Ji Songshu’s face.
“Thank you,” Ji Songshu said solemnly.
Shang Keyu looked away. “I just don’t like letting any opportunity to make money slip by.”
The problem was solved, but the power had not yet returned. Ten minutes later, Ji Songshu was bored and leaned against the glass, looking out the window to start a topic:
“Did you know? This Ferris wheel was once the highest point in the entire city of Fengyuan. But now, it has been replaced.”
She poked the glass with her finger.
“That tallest building is the Guangxing Building, right? I remember it’s a property of the Shen family.”
Shang Keyu’s eyes grew sharp. She crossed her arms and corrected her sternly from behind, “No, it is not a property of the Shen family. It is my property.”
Ji Songshu sensed the scent of a secret and waited quietly, but Shang Keyu said no more.
Something else had something to say.
In the silence, Ji Songshu’s stomach let out a loud growl. She covered her face in embarrassment.
“I know a fairly authentic Italian restaurant nearby,” Shang Keyu said.
Ji Songshu immediately agreed.
As if responding to their date, the lights brightened, and the Ferris wheel slowly began to move.
As expected, curses and such are all lies, Ji Songshu thought lightheartedly.
As they neared the ground, her phone vibrated.
It was a message from her younger sister’s attending physician:
“Chaoxi wants to see you. Where are you? I’ll come pick you up now.”
Ji Songshu’s pupils contracted. Instantly, her appetite for dinner vanished. She said hurriedly to Shang Keyu, “I’m sorry, I have something urgent tonight. I might not be able to have dinner with you.”
“Did I hear that wrong?” Shang Keyu was somewhat displeased. “You only promised me five minutes ago.”
“I’m really sorry, it’s an emergency,” Ji Songshu apologized with her hands pressed together. “Next time… I’ll be free tomorrow. Let’s come out and play again.”
“What do you take me for? My schedule is very full.” Shang Keyu lifted her chin slightly. “If I have time, I will notify you.”
After getting off the Ferris wheel, they walked side by side to the entrance of the amusement park.
Not far away, a black car slowly approached. Ji Songshu recognized the license plate, ran to the car, gave Shang Keyu a final wave, and slipped into the passenger seat.
Sitting in the driver’s seat was a well-featured woman wearing gold-rimmed glasses, with a tiny mole on the tip of her nose.
“Dr. Shen, have you been waiting long?” Ji Songshu asked.
The person smiled slightly. “You’re still not used to calling me Weiyi.”
Ji Songshu pretended not to hear and went straight to the point: “How is Xiaoxi’s condition?”
Shen Weiyi did not answer; she simply stepped on the accelerator in silence. Amidst the roar of the engine, they moved further and further away from the amusement park entrance and Shang Keyu.
Having received no answer, Ji Songshu’s heart tightened. “Is Xiaoxi… is her condition very serious?”
“I’m sorry, I lied to you. Chaoxi is fine.” Shen Weiyi’s voice was low. “Someone did want to see you. It wasn’t Chaoxi—it was me.”
Ji Songshu remained silent. She didn’t know what to say. She only felt the space inside the car was so cramped that she had nowhere to put her limbs, leaving her to huddle stiffly in the passenger seat.
“Who was that person you were with just now?” Shen Weiyi observed Ji Songshu’s expression through the rearview mirror.
Ji Songshu raised her hand to brush her hair, her gaze drifting out the window. Her voice sounded unnatural: “Just a new friend I met.”