Chapter : 11
Zhou Qingluo spoke without changing his expression, looking straight ahead as he pushed the cart toward the elevator, as if Song Ling didn’t exist.
Lou Yang silently admired Zhou Qingluo’s ability to adapt to the situation.
Lou Yang’s skill wasn’t as strong as Zhou Qingluo’s. Feeling insecure, his eyes kept sneaking toward Song Ling.
Unexpectedly, Song Ling lifted his eyes and stared directly at him, and their gazes collided.
Lou Yang hurriedly looked away, pretending nothing had happened, but his nervousness made his hands and feet move uncontrollably as he pushed the cart forward.
Zhou Qingluo controlled the cart in front. The cart had slowed down as he waited for the elevator doors to open. Suddenly, Lou Yang accelerated and bumped the cart.
Zhou Qingluo tried to brace himself against the glass doors, but the automatic doors opened, and he missed.
Bang—
Zhou Qingluo fell flat on the ground.
Luckily, his reflexes were quick. He twisted his body to protect the back of his head, but his arm scraped against the floor.
Zhou Qingluo gritted his teeth in pain and cried out, “Damn it!”
Lou Yang saw this and rushed over to help, but the cart was sliding down a small ramp.
Zhou Qingluo quickly got up and firmly grabbed the cart as it slid backward.
Lou Yang was dumbfounded. After a long pause, he asked, “Qingluo, what kind of cheat are you using?”
Zhou Qingluo looked at him blankly. “If this whole cart of goods tipped over, could you afford it?”
Lou Yang: “No.”
Zhou Qingluo: “Neither could I.”
Lou Yang hurriedly steadied the cart. “I just wanted to help you, are you okay?”
Zhou Qingluo glanced at his arm. Just a small scrape with a drop of blood. “I’m fine, let’s go.”
“Really fine? The scrape doesn’t matter, but your back is okay, right?”
Zhou Qingluo laughed angrily. “My back? Indestructible.”
They both laughed foolishly for a moment, then remembered the melancholy prince behind them.
Both went silent. Zhou Qingluo saw Song Ling in the elevator glass reflection, smirking with a bit of schadenfreude, like watching a monkey show—very irritating.
Zhou Qingluo rolled his eyes at the elevator doors without any courtesy. Behind him, someone chuckled softly.
He turned his head, crushed out his cigarette with his finger, and tossed it in the trash can across.
Zhou Qingluo thought: “This act… the trash can even has an ashtray.”
Zhou Qingluo and Lou Yang pushed the cart into the elevator. Zhou Qingluo turned to press the close button, intending to leave Song Ling outside.
Unexpectedly, Song Ling stepped in with long legs.
He looked at Zhou Qingluo’s finger on the button and lazily raised his eyelid to glance at him.
The provocative expression seemed to say:
Go on, close it.
Zhou Qingluo pressed the close button with a snap, thinking that if he didn’t say anything to explain, it might be too obvious that he didn’t want Song Ling in the elevator.
Then he thought, making Song Ling think that wasn’t a bad thing.
So he stood casually, pretending Song Ling didn’t exist, though the faint smell of tobacco and roses filled the elevator.
The family’s school celebration was on the fifth floor. As the elevator went up to B1, two formally dressed young men stepped in. Seeing Song Ling, they exchanged glances, then switched to mocking expressions.
“Hey, isn’t this Second Young Master Song? You came too.”
“Wow, even brought a Juliet rose.”
“What’s the Juliet rose’s meaning again? Noble and pure love?”
Their mockery was obvious. Zhou Qingluo glanced at Song Ling, who remained expressionless.
One of the men sighed dramatically, pretending to feel regret but secretly enjoying it:
“It’s for Young Master Jiang? Too bad he’s going abroad soon. Won’t be able to take this rose with him.”
Song Ling suddenly turned toward him. His gaze was dark and fierce, chilling like a demon whose wrath was provoked, ready to strike.
The man’s mocking smile froze as he instinctively stepped back.
The elevator atmosphere instantly tightened. The man seemed to regret his words, but it was too late.
Song Ling stepped forward, chin raised, and suddenly lifted his hand, gripping the man’s neck. His pale, long fingers wrapped around him like hellish vines.
Quick. Precise. Ruthless.
Zhou Qingluo: “!!!”
He had typed similar threats online countless times, but seeing it in reality made his throat tighten. Song Ling’s strength made the man’s face turn bright red; one wrong move and… snap.
Now he understood why threats carried such power.
Even though the elevator was going up, it felt like falling into hell—so silent it was suffocating.
Song Ling pressed the man’s carotid artery lightly and said casually:
“You’re a bit nervous, huh? Your pulse is racing.”
The man struggled to speak and choked out three words:
“I’m sorry.”
Song Ling released him, brushing off the man’s sharp suit with disdain, while tightening his grip on the rose.
Just then, the elevator reached the third floor, and a crowd entered. Zhou Qingluo quietly breathed a sigh of relief.
Lou Yang got squished and called out: “Stop pushing! Wait for the next elevator, there’s no more room.”
Some people at the front weren’t satisfied: “Keep moving in, there’s still space.”
Zhou Qingluo now stood in front of Song Ling, making sure to keep some distance, not brushing against him.
