Chapter 757: Ling Qingcheng: So Nervous I Can't Breathe!
"Ling Qingcheng, what's wrong?"
Zhang Yaqian tilted her head, her bright, starry eyes sweeping over the mahogany desk. A thoughtful expression flickered across her face before she voiced her concern.
"No, nothing. I just accidentally kicked the desk," Ling Qingcheng said, her voice tight, almost a hiss through gritted teeth. "This damned desk... I'll smash it to pieces one day!"
Her words were heavy with implication, and they certainly weren't aimed at the high-end, exquisitely crafted piece of furniture. No, the target of her ire was the restless man currently concealed within the desk's hollow space—Shen An, practicing his own version of the Martial God Art.
Under the desk, Shen An's eyebrows twitched. While the cavity was not small, it was still a rather uncomfortable squeeze for a tall adult man.
It was, however, perfectly sized for a delicate and pliant secretary.
'When there's work, the secretary does it. When there's no work...' The old saying echoed in his mind. The manufacturer of these high-end desks clearly knew their clientele and understood the unspoken desires of their major customers.
Just then, another light kick connected with the underside of the desk. It was a clear signal that Ling Qingcheng had reached the absolute limit of her patience with Shen An's antics.
Shen An watched as a long, slender leg, sheathed in black silk and ending in a Valentino high heel, kicked out in his direction. He decided he couldn't tolerate this abuse either. With a swift, smooth motion, he reached out and caught her by her tender, smooth ankle.
Ling Qingcheng swallowed the gasp that tried to escape her throat. On the surface, she continued to chat and laugh with Zhang Yaqian, exchanging the intimate pleasantries of close friends, all while desperately trying to pull her foot back. But Shen An had the meat right at his lips; how could he possibly let go now?
He gazed at the black-stockinged foot held captive in his hand, and a peculiar piece of knowledge suddenly surfaced in his mind.
How does one properly smell chemical reagents?
The answer, as any lab student knows, is to keep the container at a distance from one's nostrils. Then, using your hand, you gently waft the air over the beaker, allowing only a small amount of the gas to drift into your nose. This prevents inhaling an excessive amount of a potentially dangerous substance.
Shen An clenched his left hand around her ankle and, with his right, gently fanned the air. His nostrils flared slightly. He detected no peculiar odor.
Though President Ling wore black stockings and high heels all year round, her feet were clearly free of any unpleasant scent. If a member of one of those strange foot-odor forums from some online game were here, they would surely be deeply disappointed.
Shen An, however, was quite satisfied. He harbored no such strange fetishes; his tastes were perfectly normal.
At this moment, all he needed was a pair of glasses perched on his nose to complete the image. He was studying the black-stockinged foot before him with the rigorous, analytical attitude of a dedicated scientific researcher.
This was not a beauty achieved through skincare products or cosmetics. This was natural, an inherent perfection that carried with it a faint, ethereal body fragrance. The shape of her foot was utterly flawless, without a single blemish. It was long and slender. Beneath the fine mesh of the stockings, her skin was as fair and tender as polished jade, and one could even discern the faint, delicate blue of her capillaries.
To call it a work of art worthy of a grand collection would not be an exaggeration in the slightest.
Above, at the mahogany desk, Ling Qingcheng's face, propped up by her elbows, was gradually turning a deep shade of red.
Her exquisite, noble features were flushed with a crimson bloom, like peach blossoms in the spring. A misty haze began to well up in her beautiful eyes. At this moment, the stunning woman known as the city flower of Hangzhou appeared even more enchanting, her charm amplified by her distress.
"Qingcheng, let me feed you some of this wild ginseng and black chicken soup, alright?" Zhang Yaqian's eyes flickered with a knowing light. She casually rounded the mahogany desk and began to approach.
Ling Qingcheng's head was already spinning, but the sight of Zhang Yaqian closing in sent a jolt of pure terror through her. The shock instantly sobered her.
"Yaqian, no need! I can do it myself!" she blurted out, quickly pushing her away.
She absolutely could not let Zhang Yaqian get any closer. If she did, she would immediately see Shen An hiding under the desk. At that point, even if she threw herself into the Yellow River, she would never be able to wash away the suspicion or explain the situation.
Ling Qingcheng struggled to maintain her outward composure, but inwardly, she was a bundle of frayed nerves on the verge of exploding.
"Qingcheng, what's our relationship? Why are you being so polite with me?" Zhang Yaqian said with a sweet smile, holding a small bowl of chicken soup and a spoon as she continued to walk forward.
"Really, there's no need, Yaqian! I can do it myself, really!"
Ling Qingcheng was so frightened she went rigid. She pressed herself desperately against the desk, using her body to block the space below. She even spread her knees wide, trying to form a living curtain to obstruct Zhang Yaqian's line of sight.
Beneath the desk, Shen An held his breath.
'There's someone under the desk!'
Zhang Yaqian was now certain of it.
She had already entered the first level of the Martial God Art. Though it was only the beginning, a divine art like this granted its user Innate-level abilities from the very start. An Innate martial artist's senses were incredibly sharp. Their movements were as swift as a galloping horse, and their perception was so keen that they could clearly hear a leaf falling fifty meters away.
Since Shen An wasn't deliberately concealing his presence, Zhang Yaqian had quickly detected the sounds of breathing and a heartbeat coming from beneath the mahogany desk.
'Hmph, Brother Shen is being too naughty!' Zhang Yaqian pouted her rosy lips, her cheeks puffing out in a display of adorable indignation.
But one should never be fooled by Zhang Yaqian's pure and gentle appearance. Beneath the surface, she was wickedly clever—the type of person who seemed sweet as sugar but possessed a mind as sharp as a razor.
With her intelligence, a simple guess was all it took to know that the person hidden under the desk was Shen An.
If it were a woman, Ling Qingcheng wouldn't need to be so secretive.
It wouldn't be any other man, either. Zhang Yaqian knew that besides Shen An, no other man had ever been linked to Ling Qingcheng. And even if there were another man, Ling Qingcheng could have introduced him openly and generously.
It could only be Shen An.
Having deduced that Shen An was hiding under the desk, Zhang Yaqian was both annoyed and amused. She had no intention of exposing them, which would only embarrass both Shen An and Ling Qingcheng.
'Brother Shen, oh, Brother Shen,'she thought to herself,'I don't object to you and Qingcheng being together. In fact, I was even planning to help you. But what's with this hiding under the table? Do you enjoy this kind of sneaky thrill? If that's the case, then I can play along, too~'
Her real purpose in visiting the Ling Group headquarters today had been to see Ling Qingcheng and offer her assistance. It seemed now that she could save herself some effort.
"Alright then, Qingcheng, you can drink it yourself." Zhang Yaqian's eyes swirled with mischief. She suddenly stopped, handing the small bowl and spoon over to Ling Qingcheng.
Having narrowly escaped disaster, Ling Qingcheng let out a quiet sigh of relief. She took a shallow breath and quickly forced a graceful smile onto her face.
"Mmm, I'll drink it myself. Thank you, Yaqian. You've become so good at taking care of people. I wonder who will be lucky enough to marry you. He'll definitely be the luckiest man in the world."
As she said this, Ling Qingcheng gave Shen An another bitter kick. 'With a wonderful woman like Zhang Yaqian right here, why do you insist on clinging to me?'
Zhang Yaqian tilted her head, looking at Ling Qingcheng with a surprised expression.
"Qingcheng, didn't I tell you before? Brother Shen and I are together now, and I'm definitely going to marry him in the future. Besides Brother Shen, I don't want any other man. If he doesn't want me, then I'll just go become a nun and spend my life in a convent."
"Ah... ah, yes, you did mention that. I almost forgot." Fine beads of sweat appeared on Ling Qingcheng's fair forehead. Her brain, usually so sharp and brilliant, was overheating and overloading from the stress of her current predicament.
"How could you forget, Qingcheng?" Zhang Yaqian's eyebrows arched with a hint of slyness. "Weren't you and Brother Shen at the Yu family banquet together just two days ago? Brother Shen even played the hero saving the damsel, standing up to the Yu family's Second Young Master for you."
"Speaking of which, at that banquet, Brother Shen officially announced that you, Ling Qingcheng, were his girlfriend. My daddy even mentioned it after he came home..."
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