Driven by curiosity, Wang Yuyan stepped from behind to the side and took a look.
The first thing that met her eyes was the scarlet, weighty red-flag hood ornament.
It shimmered with solemn luster under the light.
Her gaze slid lower, locking onto the license plate—"Beijing A · 000…" The moment she saw it, her pupils contracted sharply.
Having spent several years as a personal villa concierge at Luxury Hotel, she was no sheltered girl.
Plus, shuttling between Switzerland and Sweden these past months, she'd seen plenty of luxury cars and special plates.
But the meaning behind the plate before her was completely different.
It wasn't mere numerical scarcity; the symbolism and access it represented
lay far beyond the reach of wealth or public auctions.
She knew "8888" or "9999" lucky numbers might be bought openly.
Yet a plate starting with "0000," especially with a certain suffix,
signified—within certain circles—an internal serial, an endorsement, a specific identity: a resource truly closed to the public.
An indescribable tremor swept through her.
She lifted her eyes again, skimmed the car's fluid, authoritative lines, then glanced at Jiang Cheng beside her, calm as ever, motioning her inside.
Framed by this unique ride, his usual languid ease seemed imbued with a deeper, more unfathomable weight.
The more time Wang Yuyan spent with Jiang Cheng, the more she felt he was far more… unfathomable than she'd ever imagined.
That realization didn't distance or scare her; instead, after the initial shock, it deepened her curiosity and an undeniable, strong pull.
Every glimpse of Jiang Cheng's depth made her marvel at her own initial impulsiveness.
Though she'd been the one to make a move, it was probably the best decision of her life.
The moment she climbed in, Wang Yuyan noticed the privacy screen behind the rear seats was already raised.
She'd meant to play coy, but after seeing that license plate her composure cracked.
Seizing the moment as Jiang Cheng got in, she sat right next to him.
The leather seat sank slightly; they were close enough to feel each other's warmth.
Jiang Cheng hadn't even lifted an arm to embrace her
when Wang Yuyan shifted sideways, casually draping one hand on the seatback behind him.
With the other hand, her fingers began to stir mischievously.
"Handsome Guy~" she murmured, deliberately letting a languid, foreign-tinted drawl color her voice.
Her eyes sparkled like starlight: "That line—'Come home with me tonight'—rolled off your tongue pretty smoothly. Do you say it to every girl who picks you up at the airport, hmm?"
She leaned closer until her crimson lips nearly brushed his ear, her warm breath feathering across: "Or… were you saving that line just to bully me the moment I came back?"
Jiang Cheng stayed still, letting her wandering fingers and breath approach; only when her fingertip grazed his Adam's apple did it subtly shift.
Jiang Cheng remembered his first impression of Wang Yuyan: not only stunningly attractive but blessed with god-tier massage skills.
These past two days he'd been staying with Jiang Churan,
and though he'd successfully used the Heir-Canceler Card on her,
Jiang Churan's technique was mediocre; now, with Wang Yuyan's fingers in play, he couldn't help sucking in a sharp, low breath.
Seeing Jiang Cheng's brows pinch then relax, Wang Yuyan couldn't suppress a smile.
She was, after all, a normal woman.
After the tempests Jiang Cheng had shown her, those months studying abroad had felt like torture.
So when thoughts of Jiang Cheng struck, she could only relive their intimate memories alone—and then frantically practice her techniques.
Some of those skills were for herself, but plenty were aimed at conquering Jiang Cheng.
Seeing her late-night blanket drills paying off, she felt secretly delighted and redoubled her efforts.
Just when she thought he'd keep indulging her in silence, Jiang Cheng's slender fingers unexpectedly caught her chin, tilting her face up to meet his gaze.
In the dim rear seat his eyes looked abysmal, swirling with that familiar yet heart-stopping undercurrent.
Gone was the airport banter; in its place, a far more predatory focus.
"If not you, then who am I supposed to bully? Who said anything about not wanting to come home with me?"
His breath closed over her, thick with male hormones and undeniable pressure; Wang Yuyan's heart skipped a beat.
Staring at his lips, she couldn't resist leaning in again,
her stretched neck betraying a craving to be claimed.
"Who said I'm not willing? Didn't you hear me say I'm starving? I want—something to eat."
With those words she even ran her tongue along the edge of her lip.
Though the move lacked the nimble finesse of her talented tongue,
it was still enough to make Jiang Cheng lose control and swoop in.
Several minutes later Jiang Cheng finally let Wang Yuyan go, reluctant.
Freed from his hold, Wang Yuyan's tomboy streak came roaring out.
She took a deep breath and knelt between his feet.
After glancing up at him, she lowered her head and got to work in silence.
A minute in, Jiang Cheng noticed a flaw: her finger skills had improved, but her oral craft had clearly regressed.
But he couldn't blame her—mastery takes daily and monthly accumulation.
With him away, she could practice hand techniques out of thin air, but mouth skills? She couldn't very well train on a fruit… wait, if you put it that way, maybe she could, huh.
Drifting in that thought, Jiang Cheng glanced down at Wang Yuyan.
Seeing the girl striving so hard she was practically drooling, he could only reach out and gently pat her head.