Chapter 124: Which Bathrobe Is Yours?

Ren Qian’s private driver had been observing Murong Xue through the rearview mirror for quite a while, only to suddenly realize that this fragile-looking girl was one of his favorite singers. Due to his professional conduct, he did not interrupt the conversation between his employer and Murong Xue, which focused almost entirely on music.

Ren Qian was picking apart Murong Xue’s flaws, and the driver found his worldview refreshed. When Ren Qian criticized others, he did so in a structured, point-by-point manner—first, second, third, finally... it gave off an impression of rigorous, airtight logic. It sounded incredibly impressive. Recently, Master Liu had been trying to groom his son to become a talent like Ren Qian. To speak with reason and evidence, to remain neither servile nor overbearing, to master an instrument, to walk with confidence, head held high yet exuding a sense of humility... it was driving his son nearly insane.

As their conversation continued, Master Liu noticed something unusual: Murong Xue kept gazing at Ren Qian with eyes full of tenderness. She had likely already lost her heart to him. It made sense; such an outstanding man—many girls would be willing to be his mistress or his "number one hundred" just to be by his side. Today, they were two people alone in a room... Even though Ren Qian had a decent character, driven by the instinct to propagate, who could guarantee he wouldn't stray? Men straying—wasn't that the most normal thing in the world? He silently wished that the lady of the house wouldn't return in the middle of the night, or she might catch them in bed. What an exciting night it would be.

An hour later, they arrived home. Ren Qian stepped out and opened the car door for Murong Xue.

"Brother Ren Qian, you live here?"

"That’s right. Don't be envious; I’m just putting on a brave face. I still owe over ten million, it's quite pathetic," Ren Qian said while pulling out his keys, his tone tinged with self-deprecation.

"What’s ten million? Once 'I Am a Singer' ends, you’ll probably rake in two or three hundred million."

"Come in, let's make the most of our time." Ren Qian didn't want to dwell on that topic; money wasn't the issue. What mattered was whether the sales of this upcoming album could create a miracle.

With his mind heavy with thoughts, Ren Qian led Murong Xue upstairs. The spiral staircase, designed with a Western flair, showcased the host's taste and style, yet retained the grandeur of Chinese elements. It left Murong Xue mesmerized. She grew increasingly envious of Wen Run. Not only was her family background excellent, but she also had such an outstanding boyfriend. If all went well, she would walk down the aisle with him, becoming a happy bride. But Murong Xue didn't mind being the "accident" that changed that.

"Mm..." She murmured, following Ren Qian cautiously, silently watching his broad back. Such shoulders must be very comfortable to lean on. She wondered just how happy Wen Run was in her daily life. How far had their relationship gone? Did they share a bed? They must have crossed that line by now, given that they lived together.

"This is my music room. I’ll accompany you on the piano while you practice. We’ll find the flaws and rhythm issues during your performance, and I will supervise your corrections. Let’s begin. We’ll start with 'Murong Xue,' the title track of this album..."

*‘Departing to bid you farewell~ / Never enough time to admire~ / Sharing a dish of lovesick beans, / Sending a light boat at the winter solstice. / The sunset melts you~ / The white snow by your side~ / The silk embroidery produced in Gusu, / Covering my wasted frame...’*

Murong Xue likely loved this song dearly; her emotional expression was spot on. With the first note, she embodied the beautiful, world-weary young woman from the lyrics. Song after song, Ren Qian kept his brow furrowed, pointing out flaws, and Murong Xue kept adjusting. From "Murong Xue" to "Suzhou River," then "When You Are Old," and "Next Station, Diva"—each rehearsal was more exhausting than a live performance because Ren Qian’s presence placed immense pressure on her.

"My throat is hoarse..."

"That’s enough for today. You did very well; most of your usual flaws have been reigned in. Keep this up, and you’ll surely be the next diva."

"I will work hard." Murong Xue gently brushed aside the messy hair by her ear and pulled at her sweat-drenched short sleeves, offering a fleeting glimpse of snow-white skin. She wasn't afraid of Ren Qian seeing; it was just that the room was a bit warm.

"I’ll go turn on the AC; I completely forgot about it."

"Can I take a shower?"

"A shower? Let me see if I can find some of the nurse's clothes that might fit you, so you can change and save the trouble later. After you’re done, I’ll take you out for a bite, then have the driver take you home."

"Okay." Murong Xue smiled faintly. *Once I’ve showered, will you still be willing to let me leave?* She had absolute confidence in her figure; even Wen Run didn't seem as well-proportioned as she was. Plus, after a shower, if she were to flirt or entice him... what man could resist such temptation? With that thought, she happily ran into the bathroom.

The shower pattered on. "Brother Qian, I don't think I brought a change of clothes..."

Ren Qian: "..."

If the nurse were this careless, he could have taken advantage of the situation. Imagine, if she had nothing to cover herself with, she wouldn't have hands to hide her modesty, nor would she dare to kick him away. He couldn't help but let his imagination run wild. He thought back to the rapture with the nurse—the sensation was exactly as the poem said: "To die under the peony flower, one remains a romantic even as a ghost."

"Brother Qian, I forgot my change of clothes. Could you bring them to me?"

The sweet, soft voice called out from the bathroom again. He might as well deliver them. Ren Qian carefully selected the ugliest set of the nurse’s clothes he could find. He didn't want Murong Xue wearing the nurse's nice clothes, which would only make his mind wander and keep him awake at night. Why make things hard for himself? It was better to make her look a bit dowdy and nip the problem in the bud. As a man with decent emotional intelligence, how could he not see where this was heading? He was already regretting it. He had been stirred up enough by the nurse recently; he couldn't afford to capsize in the gutter now.

He heard familiar sounds from the bathroom. *Ahem*, he often secretly listened when the nurse showered, so the sound was familiar. But he wasn't a pervert; it was just the curiosity of a virgin. Besides, was he not even allowed to listen to his own woman? How could a scholar call it "eavesdropping"? It was just "listening quietly."

"Are you done yet?"

The door creaked open a tiny crack, and a hazy mist of steam drifted out, washing over Ren Qian. He could vaguely smell a rich, alluring fragrance. That wasn't the point; the point was that he saw a flash of skin—a glimpse of spring...

"There’s a bathrobe on the wall. The first one on the left is new; you can use it."

"Whose is the one in the middle?"

"Wen Run’s..."

"Then the one on the right is yours?"

Ren Qian felt a jolt in his heart, a sense of foreboding. The door clicked shut. Amidst the hazy steam, reflected in the oval mirror, a faint white luster shimmered. A small head leaned over the bathrobe and took a deep breath, inhaling the scent—it was full of masculine charm...