The Cinnabar Mole of a Beijing Circle Tycoon

Meng Jiangyu pushed the warmed pre-Qingming Longjing tea to her side; fine mist clung to the rim of the cup, and the sweet aroma of the tea spread out.

He leaned against her, his arm gently around her shoulder, pulling her closer to his chest. He held her hand with his other hand, his fingertips pressing lightly against her knuckles, listening to his steady heartbeat against her eardrum.

Shen Qingyao pointed to the outline of the broken bridge in the distance: "The broken bridge and the snow in front of us are even gentler than those in Xu Song's song."

Meng Jiangyu lowered his head, his nose brushing against the top of her soft hair, his lips lightly touching her ear, his warm breath brushing against her earlobe, his voice filled with warmth: "A broken bridge paired with lingering snow, indeed has a unique artistic conception."

"I thought the illustrations for 'Watching Snow at the Lake Pavilion' in the textbook were incredibly beautiful, and seeing them today is truly breathtaking."

"Zhang Dai's 'Watching Snow at the Lakeside Pavilion'?" Meng Jiangyu asked, somewhat puzzled.

"Uh-huh."

"The moon shines over Jiangnan, snow falls on the Broken Bridge." Meng Jiangyu confirmed again.

"Even if we grow old together, our promise to meet again by West Lake will not be broken." Shen Qingyao continued, "His description of the snow scene is beautiful."

"Honey, the poem isn't trying to express how beautiful the snow scene is."

"Huh?" Shen Qingyao recalled.

"The snow fell in the fifth year of Chongzhen's reign, but when Zhang Dai wrote this poem, the Qing Dynasty had already entered the pass and the Shunzhi Emperor had taken control of the Central Plains."

"My dear, the author is trying to express the pain of national subjugation."

"Ah, when I finished reading it, I just thought the snow scene was beautifully described."

Didn't your teacher mention that?

"I have no recollection of it at all, I just think the snow scene is beautiful."

He raised his hand, his fingertips gently caressing her earlobe, pinching the soft tip of her ear, causing her ear to turn red. "It's okay, it's not too late to know now."

She reached out and hooked her arm around his neck, her fingertips gently tracing the strands of hair behind his neck. She looked up at him, her eyes sparkling with the snow outside the window and the warm light inside: "Meng Jiangyu, you are the most precious gift God has given me."

Meng Jiangyu was shocked by her words; it was the first time he had ever heard a girl say such a thing to him.

Meng Jiangyu lightly touched the corner of her lips with his own, his fingertips gently caressing the back of her neck for a couple of moments before he spoke in a hoarse voice, "So, you should cherish me."

"I will." As soon as Shen Qingyao finished speaking, Meng Jiangyu deepened the kiss, his fingers tracing the back of her neck. Their lips intertwined, his hand gently encircled her waist, his fingertips lightly caressing her sweater.

Shen Qingyao wrapped her arms around his waist, gently scratching his lower back with her fingertips. The warmth between her lips and teeth was even warmer than the green tea in the cup.

Slightly breathless from the kiss, he pressed his forehead against hers, his fingertips brushing against her reddened lips, and chuckled softly, "The snow is falling slowly, we can watch it a little longer."

She buried her face in the crook of his neck, her fingertips gently poking his collarbone, her nose brushing against the scent of cedar on his neck, and softly murmured "Mmm".

Outside the window, snow fell silently, while inside, the aroma of tea filled the air, and warm yellow lamplight cast shadows on the intertwined figures of the two.

Snowflakes filled the window, and the warm yellow light in the private room blended with the freshness of the Jiangnan cuisine. The dishes on the table were all prepared according to Shen Qingyao's taste. Exquisite white porcelain plates and bowls complemented the lake delicacies and seasonal vegetables, and the gentle flavors of Jiangnan were everywhere.

The tender white Longjing shrimp are infused with a subtle tea aroma, and are bouncy and not greasy.

The squirrel-shaped mandarin fish was fried until crispy on the outside and tender on the inside, with a sweet and sour sauce that coated it evenly—the kind of sweet and fresh flavor she had mentioned from the Jiangnan region.

The stir-fried seasonal vegetables retain the crispness of snowy weather, while the Dongpo pork, simmered over a low flame, is tender and melts in your mouth without being greasy at all.

The osmanthus-flavored lotus root starch dumplings served before the meal were cooked until thick, sticky, and sweet, coated with her favorite osmanthus honey.

Meng Jiangyu picked up his chopsticks and served her food. He first placed a shrimp in her bowl, his fingertip lightly touching the rim: "Try it."

Shen Qingyao picked up a piece of lotus root sandwich in return, the lotus root slices crisp and tender with the aroma of fresh meat: "This tastes just right."

Meng Jiangyu opened his mouth to catch it, his fingertips caressing the chopstick handle, a smile playing in his eyes, his voice deep and warm: "If you like it, then it's all good."

Outside the window, snow falls softly on West Lake, while inside, porcelain spoons lightly clink against bowls and plates, mingling with the faint aroma of wine and food.

The snow in Hangzhou fell harder and harder, with goose-feather snowflakes swirling in the sky, covering West Lake in a pure white blanket.

The airport was broadcasting delay announcements, and Jason called to inform them that his private plane could not take off.

Meng Jiangyu hung up the phone. "Honey, it's snowing heavily in Hangzhou. The private plane can't take off on time."

"Then let's wait until the snow stops before going back to Beijing."

"Okay." Meng Jiangyu's voice was deep and warm. "Baby, I'll take you somewhere."

The black Maybach rolled through the thick snow and arrived at the tranquil villa area by West Lake. The detached villas were hidden among the green pines and cypresses in the snow. Warm yellow light spilled out from the floor-to-ceiling windows, reflecting the white snow in the yard, which was so gentle that it was unbelievable.

As soon as the car came to a stop, Meng Jiangyu got out and opened the car door for her. He took her hand and led her across the stone path covered with a non-slip mat. The moment he unlocked the gate with his fingerprint and pushed it open, Shen Qingyao froze on the spot.

Warm light streamed down from the entryway, revealing her favorite light cream-colored decor. The living room's high ceilings and floor-to-ceiling windows faced West Lake, offering an unobstructed view of the snow-covered lake. Wooden furniture was paired with soft cashmere upholstery, and a vintage floor lamp that she had mentioned before sat in the corner.

Meng Jiangyu led Shen Qingyao by the hand as they strolled through the entire villa. The bookshelves in the study were the height she was used to, the layout of the walk-in closet was designed according to her preferences for clothing storage, and even the cushions on the bay window were her favorite velvet style.

Every detail of this house touched her heart.

Meng Jiangyu gently wrapped his arms around her waist from behind, resting his chin on the top of her head, his fingertips caressing her waist, his voice clear and gentle, yet filled with tenderness: "I was planning to bring you here after the New Year."

He held her hand. "This villa by West Lake, decorated to your liking, is one of the betrothal gifts I'm giving you."

Shen Qingyao turned to look at him, her eyes reflecting the warm light in the room and the snow outside the window. Her nose tingled slightly, and her fingertips gently gripped his clothes.

Meng Jiangyu lowered his head, his lips lightly touching the corner of her reddened eyes, his fingertips brushing her cheek, and he chuckled in a hoarse voice: "From now on, when you come to Hangzhou, you'll have a home of your own. You can stay as long as you want, I'll stay with you."

He led her by the hand to the floor-to-ceiling window in the living room. The two stood side by side, looking at the snow scene of West Lake outside the window. Snowflakes fell softly onto the glass, and the underfloor heating in the room brought warmth.

He embraced her from behind, his palm enveloping her hand, as they gazed at the broken bridge and lingering snow outside the window.

All the beauty in the world cannot compare to the tenderness of this moment; the snow falls silently, but the love is burning hot.

The master bedroom was warmed by underfloor heating, and the floor-to-ceiling windows framed the snow scene of West Lake like a flowing painting. Goose feather snowflakes fell softly on the glass, blurring the white. In the distance, the Broken Bridge was hidden in the snow mist, and the lake rippled with a soft, pale blue color.

Meng Jiangyu held Shen Qingyao against the soft couch, a cashmere blanket loosely wrapped around them. His arms were firmly around her waist, letting her nestle in his embrace. His chin rested lightly on the top of her head, and the faint fragrance of her hair lingered around his nose, mixed with the light cedar scent in the room, making it warm and intoxicating.

Shen Qingyao pressed her cheek against his warm chest, listening to his steady and powerful heartbeat. She played with the eighteen beads on his wrist with her fingertips, then clasped her fingers together with his palm, her fingertips caressing his knuckles.

She looked up and saw through the floor-to-ceiling window that the snow was falling all over the lake shore. Snowflakes fell on the lake surface, and the wind rustled through the treetops, shaking off the snow that covered the branches. The rustling sound was as soft as a whisper.

Meng Jiangyu lowered his head, his lips lightly touching her hair crown, his fingertips gently combing through her hair, his voice warm and deep like the surface of a lake after a snowfall: "The snow will continue to fall for a long time."

Shen Qingyao snuggled closer to him, her nose brushing against his Adam's apple, and responded softly, her fingertips gently stroking his waist.

Neither of them said anything more, they just quietly embraced and watched the snow fall on West Lake, and watched the twilight spread across the sky, dyeing the snow a gentle warm gray.