Limited-Time Attachment - Chapter 36

The ashtray sat within reach. Song Ming held a cigarette between her fingers, adorned with a ring featuring the intricate patterns of a niche luxury brand.

Her plain grey, wide necked base shirt had sleeves rolled up to the elbows, revealing lean, firm forearms. A wide steel bracelet was clasped around the prominent bone of her wrist, dangling half-suspended over the edge of the sofa, a look that exuded a sexy contrast between domestic gentleness and hardened grit.

Wearing soft-soled slippers and loose black trousers, Song Ming sat in an armchair in the living room. A laptop rested on her lap, her fingers dancing across the keys, occasionally hitting shortcuts.

Detailed information regarding the Southeast Asian individual who had been frequently contacting Zhou Jibai was quickly fed back onto Song Ming’s screen.

So, they’re in the mining industry… Song Ming raised her hand, bringing the cigarette to her lips. The steel bracelet slid down her forearm with the movement.

Song Ming wasn’t particularly familiar with mining, especially in Southeast Asia. However, she knew maritime shipping inside out. Furthermore, while this Southeast Asian contact was at the upstream of the industrial chain, they weren’t among the most competitive players.

Not too difficult to handle.

Exhaling a cloud of smoke, Song Ming leisurely began to pull strings behind the scenes.

The phone on the table rang, interrupting the crisp clicking of the keyboard.

It was Zhou Jibai.

Seeing the contact name on the screen, Song Ming smiled and picked up: “Hello?”

“I’m free today,” Zhou Jibai’s voice remained as cold and indifferent as ever. “When are you moving in?”

Song Ming chuckled, glancing at the small, roughly 14 inch suitcase beside her.

“Anytime.”

Even when Song Ming and Zhou Jibai had acknowledged their relationship in the past, they had never lived together. At most, they would stay at each other’s places for a few days before separating to avoid public scrutiny. Now, with their relationship ambiguous, pitting themselves against one another while simultaneously cooperating, they had actually ended up living together.

“You’re moving in with just this little bit of stuff?”

The door opened from the inside. Zhou Jibai was dressed simply. A cream-white camisole with a soft pearlescent sheen loosely covered her unforgettable curves, while a loose, thin cardigan draped over most of her skin, leaving only her straight, slender calves visible.

Her hair was loosely tied in a French twist, with one or two stray strands escaping the bun, making her aura seem even more gentle. Long, thin emerald drop earrings swayed slightly against her fair neck, highlighting her clear, lovely jawline.

Zhou Jibai frowned slightly as she sized up Song Ming’s tiny suitcase, her rosy lips pursed.

Song Ming watched her with interest, realizing that no matter how plainly Zhou Jibai dressed, as long as her lips remained deep red, a touch of charm and seduction would quietly take root in one’s heart, flirting like a gossamer veil.

Zhou Jibai glanced at her: “What are you looking at?”

Song Ming, still in her casual attire, stood outside with her arms crossed, tall and lean. “Looking at you.”

She then tilted her head toward her suitcase. “Is there something wrong with this?”

Zhou Jibai lowered her eyes, glanced at the small suitcase again, and stepped back to make way. “It’s nothing. I just almost thought President Song was going bankrupt.”

Song Ming gave a completely indifferent smile. “If you want to think that, go ahead. I don’t mind.”

Zhou Jibai’s house was decorated in a clean, orderly fashion. The interior mostly featured light colors with occasional pieces of raw wood furniture. It was sparse, a stark contrast to the hardened, sharp style of Song Ming’s own home.

It wasn’t Song Ming’s first time staying at Zhou Jibai’s house, but it was certainly the first time she had slept in the guest bedroom.

After quietly surveying the secondary bedroom for a moment, Song Ming turned to look at Zhou Jibai, who was standing outside the door holding a glass of warm water. A bit of mischief rose in her heart.

Their eyes met, and Zhou Jibai frowned. “What do you want to do?”

“President Zhou, it just occurred to me,” Song Ming walked closer slowly, looking into Zhou Jibai’s eyes and tilting her head with a faint smile. “Even though we don’t have any ‘special’ relationship right now, our setup is that you are being ‘forced and hounded’ by me to the point where all your potential marriage matches have been ruined. Shouldn’t we practice a bit to avoid getting rusty?”

Zhou Jibai tilted her face up slightly to meet her gaze, remaining silent.

Song Ming’s eyelashes fluttered downward. Her hand suddenly moved toward Zhou Jibai’s slender waist. Just as her fingertips touched the smooth fabric, Zhou Jibai grabbed her wrist.

“See,” Song Ming said calmly, letting Zhou Jibai hold her wrist. “If we were in front of outsiders, we’d have given it away already.”

Zhou Jibai looked at Song Ming. Her face, lacking heavy makeup, appeared less glamorous and more fragile, her expression flat. Song Ming’s reflection was mirrored in her light brown pupils.

Zhou Jibai’s voice was very soft, emphasizing each word: “Aren’t you ‘forcing and hounding’ me? Why should I be used to it?”

Song Ming looked down at her quietly and smiled. “Fair point.”

Song Ming lifted the arm Zhou Jibai was holding, breaking free from the weak restraint. She placed one hand behind the back of Zhou Jibai’s head and the other over Zhou Jibai’s hand that was holding the glass. With a slight push, she pinned Zhou Jibai against the hallway wall, the warm water in the glass didn’t even splash.

Zhou Jibai’s eyes widened. “You…”

Song Ming ignored her. The hand at the back of Zhou Jibai’s head slid to her cheek, cupping her chin to tilt her head up. Her grey-green eyes focused intensely on Zhou Jibai’s lips, her gaze deep and affectionate. Her red lips parted slightly, revealing the tips of her white, shell-like canine teeth as if she might kiss her at any moment.

Zhou Jibai’s eyelashes trembled, and her breathing unconsciously quickened.

Song Ming leaned in slowly. When the distance was so close it felt like a mere millimeter, she suddenly straightened up and backed away, saying politely, “Actually, for practice, a kiss seems a bit intrusive.”

Zhou Jibai froze, then suddenly snapped her eyes toward Song Ming.

Song Ming smiled, asking knowingly, “What’s wrong?”

Zhou Jibai gripped her glass tightly, unable to speak for a moment.

Seeing Zhou Jibai’s expression, Song Ming paused, feeling for a split second that she might have played the joke too far.

“Nothing,” Zhou Jibai suddenly spoke, her gaze becoming sharp. “I am very pleased that President Song is so loyal to the plan we formulated.”

Song Ming hesitated, wondering if she should say something soft to coax her.

Zhou Jibai raised her beautiful eyes, which, even without eyeliner, were incredibly vivid and moving. “Since President Song respects our agreement so much, then please carry the setting through to the end. Focus all your ‘hounding and forcing’ on me alone. Stop seeing those countless lovers of yours, and stop going to nightclubs. After all, you’ve already moved into my house, you’ve got exactly what you wanted, haven’t you?”

Song Ming: “…”

Zhou Jibai gave Song Ming one last heavy look before turning toward the living room.

“Tsk.” Song Ming raised a hand to pinch the bridge of her nose.

Why did she ever think Zhou Jibai needed coaxing… and the idea that moving in meant she’d stop going to clubs wasn’t necessarily true.

Song Ming could totally play the part of a scumbag; she didn’t care what others thought of her anyway.

Song Ming rounded a corner. “President Zhou, I think we can talk more about that.”

Zhou Jibai turned her head, her expression still cold. “I don’t think there’s anything…”

Before she could finish, the phone on the sofa suddenly rang. Zhou Jibai’s expression went blank. She gave up the argument and glanced toward the phone.

Song Ming’s gaze swept over Zhou Jibai’s face, and she quickly understood what was happening.

Leaning back casually against the wall, Song Ming crossed her arms. Her flippant expression vanished completely. She let out a light laugh and said, “Is it that Southeast Asian guy?”