Cheating CEO

Chapter 9: Women Who Find Topics

“My sincerest apologies!”

A blush crept up her cheeks as she offered Zhuang Wentian a shy, apologetic smile. Such a graceless misstep only deepened her conviction that marrying Ling Yanhong had been a mistake; she had stumbled into a world not meant for her.

Even among the elite, there were hierarchies. Her family, the Gongs, were clearly not of the highest echelon. In this glittering assembly of high society, the Gongs were but a fledgling house of some renown; compared to the old, established dynasties and the true aristocrats, they seemed utterly provincial.

“It’s quite all right.”

Zhuang Wentian smiled, his hold far from the possessive grip of Ling Yanhong. There was a comfortable, natural distance between them. The faint scent of fresh-cut grass that clung to him wafted into her senses, bringing with it a feeling of ease and tranquility.

The melody was a gentle, slow air she was fond of. Her steps fell into place this time, and she began to sway to his lead. In a comfortable silence, her gaze drifted towards Ling Yanhong and Luo Wenke.

There, they seemed lost in a lively conversation, their rapport effortless. Ling Yanhong’s smile was as captivating and languid as ever, while Luo Wenke’s was one of graceful sweetness. The picture they made, chatting as they danced, was one of such harmonious beauty they looked for all the world like the perfect couple.

A pang of sorrow pierced her heart. She, the understudy thrust onto the stage, was merely a pawn he wielded for his own strategic advances.

A shadow of melancholy flickered across her features. Suppressing a sigh, she turned her attention back to the dance, only to find the man beside her studying her face. A flush of heat rose to her cheeks as she quickly averted her gaze.

Zhuang Wentian’s features were impeccably defined, without a single flaw among them. What was most comforting was that his face lacked the rakish air of a philanderer; he exuded a gentle, steady calm, like a welcome spring breeze. This, she thought, was what a truly perfect gentleman must be like.

“Miss Gong,” Zhuang Wentian said, breaking the silence first. His voice was as refined as his face. “I don’t believe we’ve met before. Have you been living abroad?”

His gentle inquiry elicited a natural sense of warmth from her, and so she returned his smile with one of her own, replying politely.

“I was studying in the UK.”

Her replies felt so anemic. A faint doubt pricked at her. Why had he called her Miss Gong, and not Mrs. Ling? Had he already seen through her charade as the lady of the Ling house?

“Ah, a wonderful place indeed. I was at Cambridge myself. Which university did you attend?”

Astonishment washed over Gong Shichen’s face. She looked at him in disbelief. Could he possibly be the Earl Zhuang from Cambridge—the legendary figure from the university’s annals, the object of countless girls’ admiration? She had heard her classmates speak of an Asian man who had once captivated high society, a living legend ennobled by the British Crown, but she had never imagined she would cross paths with such a man. Now, at his mention of Cambridge, the thought of Earl Zhuang surfaced unbidden.

Perhaps it was his supremely elegant bearing, or perhaps he simply resembled a fairytale prince too closely, but Gong Shichen found herself blushing at her own wild conjecture.

Zhuang Wentian took in the fleeting emotions that played across her face, a faint, knowing smile gracing his lips, though he said nothing.

“I was at Cambridge as well.”

Gong Shichen’s reply was once again clipped and plain, and she felt a fresh wave of inadequacy wash over her. Across the room, Ling Yanhong and Luo Wenke were lost in their own world, their conversation flowing effortlessly. In contrast, she felt so hopelessly awkward, so utterly dull.

“What a coincidence. You’re my junior, then,” Zhuang Wentian said, his interest seemingly piqued, completely unfazed by her reticence. “What did you study?”

The exchange, feeling much like an alumni reunion, helped her relax slightly. This man was so refined and transcendent that she felt the chasm between their worlds was vast.

“Business Administration,” she answered dutifully, before venturing a question of her own. “And you, Senior?”

“Me?” he said lightly. “Something similar, I suppose. I learned a bit of this and that—I’ve always enjoyed dabbling.”

As Zhuang Wentian spoke, his eyes caught Gong Shichen’s fervent search for a new topic. Just then, Ling Yanhong and Luo Wenke’s conversation seemed to lull, and both their gazes drifted in their direction. In that very moment, a spark of excitement lit up Gong Shichen’s face as a question finally came to her.

“Senior, do you know a Jerry Chan? He was my tutor!”

Rumor had it that Jerry Chan and Earl Zhuang were close friends. If he knew him, then her outlandish theory might just be true. Was the man before her truly the one who had once taken Britain by storm, the fabled ‘Eastern Prince’?

“What a coincidence,” he replied. “Jerry Chan and I were classmates.”

It was him. A wave of satisfaction washed over her; her guess had been right.

“You’re the Earl Zhuang, aren’t you?”

In her excitement, all thoughts of propriety and titles vanished. As she stared at him, flushed and breathless with exhilaration, Ling Yanhong’s gaze fell upon them. Naturally, Luo Wenke’s followed. And just like that, the smiles vanished from their faces, replaced by a sudden, shared scowl.