Charm point maxed out, inheriting game assets

Tang Song listened with great interest by the side.

As if following their descriptions, he felt the little bits related to that era and them.

He looked at the two equally mature and radiant beauties opposite him.

One was a seasoned businesswoman, still calm after experiencing storms.

One was an entrepreneurial woman, starting from scratch and advancing resolutely.

Indeed, they could be considered peers.

Both in their 30s.

Soon, Tang Song thought of Wen Ruan and Jiang Yourong, who were also slightly older.

His gaze, uncontrollably, fell on Ouyang Xianyue.

Her figure was neither the almost exaggerated perfect hourglass of Wen Ruan nor the purely curvy fullness of Jiang Yourong.

But a just-right fullness, filled with a hint of Oriental classical charm.

There were no obvious muscle lines on her body, nor any extra flesh at the waist.

The whole person presented a smooth curve like pearls and jade.

Once again, Tang Song felt an extremely wicked thought toward this ”widow” he nurtured in the game.

His throat slightly moved as he desperately suppressed his surging emotions.

As a standard LSP.

When he was selecting and nurturing characters in the game back then, besides ability ratings, what he valued the most was appearance.

Thus, including Secretary Jin, Su Yu, Ouyang, Anne, Mo Xiangwan, all female characters.

Without exception, were pleasing top beauties.

After all, playing the game should be as enjoyable as possible.

At this moment, the one in full dress before him, freeing from all restraints, firing on all cylinders, the ”SSR complete form” Ouyang Xianyue.

The charm she exuded was irresistible to any man.

He was no exception.

At this moment.

Ouyang Xianyue’s gaze suddenly looked over, colliding with his fiery gaze.

Tang Song’s eyes twitched slightly, then using eating as an excuse, concealed his

noticed this scene.

Ouyang Xianyue’s lips revealed a meaningful smile.

...

The dinner gradually approached its end.

The shadow of bamboo outside the sandalwood window gently swayed in the night.

Ouyang Xianyue elegantly wiped the corner of her mouth with a napkin, maintaining her usual composure.

She turned to Xie Shuyu, her tone gentle yet undeniable:

”Shuyu, the private kitchen here, besides Sichuan dishes, also makes very authentic Su-style desserts. Especially the ’Gorgon Fruit’, it’s sweet and sticky, air-freighted from Gusu; perfect to offset the spiciness. I’ll have Secretary Chen take you to the kitchen to personally choose a few to try and pack some to take back for your good friend Meng Ran.”

Her words were considerate and thoughtful.

Makes it impossible to refuse.

”This... it’s too much trouble for you...”

”No need to be polite with me.” Ouyang Xianyue patted her hand and then gave a knowing glance to the attentive Chen Jing standing by.

Secretary Chen, understanding, warmly said, ”President Xie, please walk this way.”

The door was gently pushed open, the light behind Xie Shuyu gathered into a soft halo.

As her figure slowly disappeared at the door, the atmosphere of the private room also changed.

Ouyang Xianyue turned to look at Tang Song opposite.

Those warm and beautiful eyes rippled with a complex and indescribable light.

The two stared at each other for a moment.

Ouyang Xianyue was the first to speak: ”Let’s go, let me show you the painting I’ve prepared for you.”

”Mm.”

Tang Song stood up and gently pushed the chair away.

They quietly walked through the corridor.

Came to a quiet room at the end of the second floor.

It was a minimalist art studio, with many ink sketches hanging on the wall.

The desk was adorned with cinnabar, ink stones, and rice paper.

Ouyang Xianyue walked to the desk, gently fondling the already mounted painting scroll with her delicate hand.

Her fingertips brought out a faint scent of ink.

”The painting skill is rudimentary, just spontaneously expressive; I don’t know if you’ll... like it.”

Her tone seemed slightly nervous and uneasy, yet outwardly, she remained composed and elegant.

Tang Song took it, feeling the weight in his hands.

He slowly opened the painting scroll.

A familiar figure appeared before him.

It was the scene a few days ago, in that courtyard named [Jinli Villa], under that fiery red maple tree, where he reached out to brush the leaves off her shoulder.

The brushstrokes of ink were spontaneous and vivid.

With a few strokes, it vividly outlined the tenderness and focus he had at that time.

And in the blank space of the scroll.

Xianyue penned a short poem in a flowing and graceful cursive script:

[Xianyue embraces the maple shadow, the wind stirs deep thoughts. If this body dreams, why not share autumn’s red.]

Tang Song gazed at the poem, his pupils slightly tightening.

With Tang Song’s current cultivation and sharpness, he naturally perceived the underlying meaning.

It was a restrained emotion, under the shell of rationality, gently revealing a crease.

Both implicit and bold.

Tang Song’s fingertips gently caressed.

Seemingly able to feel the scorching warmth hidden between the lines.

That is to say... this always reserved lady, Ouyang Xianyue, was actually confessing to him?!

Or perhaps it couldn’t be called a ”confession”, but rather a ”probe”?

He lifted his head, looking at Ouyang Xianyue.

The other stood at the desk, with the light casting diagonally on her neck.

The light danced on the satin surface of her cheongsam, and the dark pattern of orchid grass seemed illuminated by the night.

Her posture remained gracious, her smile faint.

As if completely unaware of the feelings implied in the poem.

The two quietly faced each other.

The air seemed to become moist.

A moment later, Tang Song finally exhaled slowly, breaking the haunting silence.

”The painting is very good, I like it a lot. This poem... did you write it yourself?”