Chapter Seven: Rich and Willful

"Lulu, you spent a hundred yuan on a sketch? You have too much money to burn, right? You're just throwing it all away!"

"And an artistic signature too!"

"You have the nerve to say that? There are tons of artistic signature designs online for five yuan each."

"Those cheap designs online look like scribbles. I just like this one; it's legible and looks good. Look at the photo of the sketch I took. Don't you think it looks really good? You wouldn't believe it, but the girl who drew my portrait looked at me with such tender, doting eyes afterwards and said, 'I drew you as I see you.' Oh my god, I got goosebumps at that moment! So sweet, wasn't it?"

“I’m too lazy to talk to you anymore. Anyway, if you run out of money, you can always ask your family for more. I’m not talking to you anymore, the supervisor is here, I have to get to work. I don’t have your good fortune.”

Liu Lu pouted, took the phone away from her ear, and muttered, “You talk as if my parents’ money just falls from the sky. I haven’t squandered it, I think this is worth it.” She looked at the sketch in her hand, becoming more and more satisfied with it.

“Can I see this drawing you’re holding?” A deep, magnetic voice suddenly came from beside her.

Liu Lu was startled and realized that there were two men next to her. The more muscular man had a resolute face and was probably in his early thirties. He was wearing a black T-shirt and dark blue jeans, and his exposed arm muscles were strong, making him look particularly manly. The other one looked…

Her gaze was caught before she could even begin to look him over. The man didn’t seem angry, but he seemed even more frightening than her father when he was angry. She didn’t dare to look again, and obediently handed over the paper in her hand.

“Ding!” The elevator doors opened.

"I'm going into the elevator." Taking the opportunity to speak, Liu Lu glanced at the man beside her. His face, gazing down at the painting, was unusually calm, his long eyelashes obscuring his eyes, the only part of his expression that revealed emotion.

Wow, so handsome!

As for what made him handsome, Liu Lu couldn't quite put her finger on it. His features weren't as perfectly sculpted as a celebrity's, but he was undeniably handsome, and quite tall. His build wasn't as muscular as the man beside him, but he wasn't skinny either.

"Where is the person who painted this?" The man looked up, his gaze sweeping over Liu Lu, his expression becoming more serious.

"By the large flowerbed in Baihua Square." Liu Lu, feeling the chill in his eyes, immediately answered obediently.

The man turned and walked away. Liu Lu noticed the paper clutched in his hand at his side and realized her things were still with him. She quickly chased after him, calling out, "My painting—"

The man stopped, turned back to Liu Lu, and his gaze, like a sharp sword, instantly shattered her courage to ask for her things back.

"How much is it? I'll compensate you."

"I... I don't want money..."

As Liu Lu spoke, the burly man beside the man had already received instructions and pulled out a stack of bills, estimated to be worth over a thousand yuan, from his wallet and handed them to her.

"No, I..."

Another stack.

"Not enough?" The man uttered two words lightly.

Liu Lu silently shut her mouth.

After the two were out of sight, Liu Lu looked down at the money that had been forced into her hand and secretly counted the bills. Twenty-seven bills. Subtracting the hundred yuan expense, she had just made two thousand six hundred yuan!

"This is what it means to be rich and willful!"

Sheng Jiaoyang, unaware that her painting had been resold for over two thousand yuan, was still diligently designing signatures for people. Ten yuan for a signature design wasn't expensive; it was enough to save the cost of a cup of milk tea. Some onlookers were tempted and placed orders, but no one had asked her to draw sketches yet.

After finishing trading several art signature designs, Sheng Jiaoyang was preparing to find a shady spot to continue her work, hoping to escape the increasingly intense sunlight. Just as she packed up her tools, darkness fell before her as someone blocked her path.

"Did you draw this?" A familiar voice filled her ears.

Sheng Jiaoyang squinted, recognizing the object before her—her first work of the day, a sketch of Liu Lu. Then, noticing the blood-red jade ring on the thumb holding the corner of the paper, her heart skipped a beat.

Slowly raising her head, she followed the arm upwards, and sure enough, there was Shen Zhining's unpredictable face.

Sheng Jiaoyang's lips trembled, but remembering her current identity, she regained her composure: "It's me. Is there something you need?"

If it weren't for her own experience, who would believe that one person could transform into someone with a different appearance and bloodline?

"Jiaoyang?" The man looked down at her, scrutinizing her.

Could there really be two people from different regions with identical art styles and signatures?

He didn't believe in coincidences; all coincidences were always deliberate.

Hearing the name uttered by the person before her, Sheng Jiaoyang felt a sudden chill run down her spine, making her scalp tingle. This feeling was all too familiar; it seemed that every time he called her in such a gloomy tone, it meant she was about to suffer.

Back then, that bastard Shen Zhining would bully her when she was only a few years old, and ironically, he was unhappy every single day. She couldn't understand how she had endured being bullied day after day, her eyes brimming with tears, yet she hadn't abandoned him. The psychological trauma from being bullied so badly as a child was immense. Even as an adult, she would avoid him like the plague. Wherever Shen Zhining appeared, she would give him a perfunctory greeting and then quickly disappear.

The little devil hadn't grown into an angel. The current Shen Zhining was simply terrifying; his icy aura was palpable, making her feel as if she were plunged into an icy lake even in the sweltering summer heat, chilling her to the bone.

"This, this is my stage name," Sheng Jiaoyang said, her voice lacking confidence.

"Change it."

Hearing the other party's commanding tone, Sheng Jiaoyang laughed angrily: "You think you can just change it like that? Who do you think you are? Why should I change it?"

"Don't you want to change?" The man's tone turned extremely dangerous.

Sheng Jiaoyang felt a surge of urgency, and a scene from years ago suddenly flashed into her mind. It was the scene she witnessed when she saw Shen Zhining again. The boyish Shen Zhining, no longer the child, wore a tailor-made suit, his left hand in his pocket, his right hand holding a wine glass. The blood-red jade ring on his thumb was conspicuously highlighted by the shimmering wine in the glass. However, what was most striking was the person he was trampling under his feet—a middle-aged man groaning in pain, his face swollen, his right wrist pinned beneath Shen Zhining's foot. In contrast, Shen Zhining wore a nonchalant smile.

Later, she learned that this man, whose hand Shen Zhining had crippled, was actually one of his subordinates, suffering this fate for betraying him.

But that scene clearly stung her. The little devil had become a great devil, changing not only in size and appearance but also in cruelty and ruthlessness. The only thing that remained unchanged was probably his unpredictable mood.

"I absolutely cannot go against Shen the Demon King!" This was etched into Sheng Jiaoyang's heart, practically her guiding principle.

"It's not that I can't change, but why should I?" Sheng Jiaoyang's tone softened. Before, with the protective wall of their family friendship, Shen the Demon King could easily mess with her. Now, she was just an ordinary person with no support; killing her would be incredibly easy.

"With such a masterpiece before you, are you trying to imitate me?" Shen Zhining's gaze was undisguised. Although he didn't express his emotions, Sheng Jiaoyang detected a hint of contempt in his calm tone. A

masterpiece? Who?

"How come I didn't know there was a painter named Jiaoyang in this world who was more talented than me?" Sheng Jiaoyang considered herself knowledgeable; if such a painter truly existed, how could she not know?

Shen Zhining chuckled, his gaze towards Sheng Jiaoyang revealing a hint of pity for someone so ignorant.

Damn it!

Sheng Jiaoyang gritted her teeth in hatred, but she was helpless.

"I can change it, but you asked me to change it, so I need compensation." It wasn't a problem to be appeased with money; the problem was simply that the money wasn't enough—this was something the young Shen the Demon King had told her.

"How much do you want?"

Sheng Jiaoyang held up one finger.

"One hundred thousand?"

So extravagant? Sheng Jiaoyang blinked, surprised and not immediately responding.

"Too little? Your life isn't worth a million." Shen Zhining narrowed his eyes slightly.

Sheng Jiaoyang's lips twitched, inexplicably annoyed. A million was nothing; it wouldn't even be enough for a piece of jewelry before. Originally, she only wanted ten thousand, but when he offered one hundred thousand, she was already pleasantly surprised. Now, however, she wasn't satisfied. Since he looked down on her so much, she was determined to get the million.

"That Zhu Yu could easily paint a picture for more than that, right? My life might not be worth a million now, but the paintings I paint in the future will never be less than that!" Sheng Jiaoyang stood up. Her current body was tall, so she could meet Shen the Demon King's gaze with just a glance, unlike before when she had to look up at him.

Shen Zhining stared intently at the girl who dared to bargain with him. Seemingly contemplating something pleasant, his expression softened, and he said, "Okay."

The next second, the Demon King's face changed drastically.

"But if I find out you're still using her name, I'll make you wish you were dead!"