Chapter 22: The Scoundrel’s Self-Cultivation

That night, the two of them returned to their own bedrooms.

Jiang Zao lay in bed, tossing and turning, unable to fall asleep. Too much had happened today—her mind couldn’t process it all at once; it was all about lawsuits. First, there was Zhou Lichuan’s surgery that hadn’t gone forward; then, there was Zhou Kuan’s intention to use the Meng family as a pawn.

After rolling over for the eighth time, Jiang Zao sat up, hugged her pillow, barefoot, and, bathed in moonlight, pushed open Zhou Lichuan’s door.

Zhou Lichuan had just drifted into a light sleep, his breathing calm and steady.

Jiang Zao climbed gently onto the bed, placed her pillow beside his, slipped beneath his covers, and wrapped her arms around his now noticeably softer waist, giving it a gentle squeeze. She nestled against his back, preparing to sleep.

“Jiang Zao, if you keep touching me, I won’t be able to remain a gentleman,” Zhou Lichuan said, eyes still closed, his voice unusually clear in the darkness.

Smiling, Jiang Zao pressed closer, her soft form resting against his back, making his breathing a little uneven.

“Mr. Zhou, you’re lying. You said I was your first love, but don’t forget what you did the first time we met—so skilled! Who would believe you’ve never been with a woman?”

Zhou Lichuan caught the mischievous hand at his waist, turned over, and pulled her into his arms, his voice low and husky with restraint, “Jiang Zao, I’m seven years older than you.”

“So what?” she replied, utterly unafraid. Zhou Lich