My Bloodthirty Husband Is So Gentle

“This is my glory. You are my glory.”

Standing under the brilliant spotlights, the woman with the smokey gray makeup had her long hair nonchalantly rolled up. An errant strand caught at the corner of her lips as she kissed her wooden guitar.

As the last notes subsided, the entire stadium of fans began screaming fanatically. This was the rock star “Jiang Jiusheng,” who had once been described in an entertainment tabloid by the following statement: “In the past decade and for the next decade, there will not be another Jiang Jiusheng in the music industry.”

In three years, she’d made it to the top of the rock music scene with three albums breaking the 100-million target and seven concerts. She was also the first female artiste in the country to have performed at the Central Stadium.

Backstage, leaning against the makeup stand, a woman smiled. “The concert was a success with record-breaking attendance and live effects.” She was Mo Bing, Jiang Jiusheng’s manager.

Four years older than Jiang Jiusheng, Mo Bing had been in the business for six years. Before she’d started managing Jiang Jiusheng, she had been a mediocre manager with Tian Yu Media. Mo Bing had once asked Jiang Jiusheng why she’d selected her as her manager, to which Jiang Jusheng had given an elusive yet serious response: “Because you fit the bill.”

In time, Jiang Jiusheng’s choice had proven correct. Mo Bing was highly capable, strong, resolute, and level-headed. “Iron Lady” Mo Bing was the perfect match for Jiang Jiusheng, who was lazy and lackadaisical. Most importantly, Mo Bing was beautiful, with a great body to boot. Jiang Jiusheng preferred all things pleasing to the eye and soul. They had an amicable and comfortable relationship.

With a faint smile, Jiang Jiusheng replied, “Thanks for the hard work.” Sweeping up her hair and securing it in a bun with an eyebrow pencil, she asked, “I’m going for a smoke. Do you mind?”

“Would you not smoke if I said yes?” Mo Bing retorted.

Shaking her head, Jiang Jiusheng laughed. “I will go next door.”

She was addicted to smoking, especially during her songwriting sessions, when she could go through pack after pack continuously. Mo Bing had tried a few times to get her to quit, but to no avail, so she resorted to searching for cigarettes of different flavors and compositions that were somewhat healthier and more suitable for women. After all, she was a singer, and she had to protect her “rice bowl”—her voice.

“You little imp!” Mo Bing chided. She reached into the drawer and retrieved a box of cigarettes for her, saying, “Take it easy. You have gastric issues.”

Green More was a light cigarette that Jiang Jiusheng found to be mild. She preferred her cigarettes and alcohol strong and concentrated, and she loved beautiful people. But, of course, Mo Bing was not going to indulge her.

“Yes, ma’am,” Jiang Jiusheng replied with a salute. Reaching for the pack, she lit one easily with a handheld lighter with a striking wheel, the type generally favored by men.

With the slim cigarette nestled between her fingers, she leaned back lazily on the chair with half-closed eyes, slowly inhaling and exhaling thin wisps of smoke that partially blurred her profile. Mo Bing had never seen a cigarette-smoking woman look more alluring or charming.

Truth be told, in the entertainment industry flooded with beautiful people, Jiang Jiusheng wasn’t considered as top of the class. However, she had a unique persona of enigma and elegance, characterized by her detached beauty, slightly upturned lips that were seductively innocent, and eyes that portrayed masculine nonchalance.

Initially, Mo Bing had categorized her as an unreachable bloom, but Jiang Jiusheng was too lazy by nature to give credit to that title, preferring comfort and simplicity. It was this very trait of casual chic that her fans loved and embraced, branding it as in-your-face godliness.

Jiang Jiusheng stubbed out the cigarette, her brows still showing signs of weariness.

After calling out to the makeup artist to give Jiang Jiusheng a touch-up, Mo Bing said, “The others have gone ahead to the club.”

Mo Bing was referring to the band members that accompanied Jiang Jiusheng. They had wrapped up and left for the club first, since the last song had been a solo by Jiang Jiusheng.

Rubbing the space between her brows, Jiang Jiusheng said, “I’ll go home for a shower first. Pick me up in two hours.”

Mo Bing made an “okay” sign with her hand.

At this time, the door suddenly opened, and in walked a good-looking man in a suit and leather shoes, a bouquet of roses in his hand.

Alas, he was a wolf in sheep’s clothing. Recognizing him, Mo Bing stepped forward with a professional smile, saying, “Mr. Jian, next time, please knock before you come in.”

Mr. Jian Chengzhong, the second son of Jian Property Development, had, in recent years, gained an interest in the entertainment industry, and Jiang Jiusheng’s concert was his first investment foray in entertainment. Infamous as a player, Master Jian was, after all, a property mogul and, of course, partial to fast cars and beautiful women.

Dapper and suave in a tailor-made suit with a corner of a red pocket square peeking out from his breast pocket, he laughed flirtatiously. “For an investment of 30 million, don’t I at least have this privilege?”

“It’s not about privilege but breeding,” Mo Bing replied with a straight face.

Jiang Jiusheng’s lips twitched, a half-smile in her eyes. Mo Bing was a delicate flower with thorns who did not take prisoners.

Master Jian’s expression was immediately transformed, but he held back his anger, perhaps to maintain his poise.

Maintaining her deadpan stance, Mo Bing asked in a professional tone, “Can we help you, Mr. Jian? My artiste needs to change, so you might have to leave the room.”

With a cold expression, Jian Chengzhong looked past Mo Bing and pushed the big bouquet of roses at Jiang Jiusheng, saying, “Let’s have dinner tonight.”

Jiang Jiusheng stretched her long legs casually on the chair and, without looking up, replied, “Sorry. I do not accept one-to-one invitations from strangers.”

Coldly polite. In the industry, Jiang Jiusheng was well-known not only as an easygoing person but also as somebody that no one could get close to. Men, however, persisted in the pursuit and savored the challenge of taming her antagonism.

“We won’t be strangers for long.” Jian Chengzhong laughed patronizingly. “You have three more concerts on this tour, and I want to continue with the sponsorship. We will no longer be strangers after the second one.”

Jiang Jiusheng lifted her eyes, laughing. “And what about the third one?” Jiang Jiusheng’s alluring eyes, framed by the sparse and laid-back brows, were depths of enchantment and detachment—fatal enchantment!

Squinting, Jian Chengzhong looked at his prey. “I think Miss Jiang knows what I mean.”

“I don’t like innuendos,” she replied, looking very bored. She flicked at the red rose petals and asked in a serious tone, “You want me?”

“We all have our needs,” was the honest reply.

Although a wildly popular rock star, Jiang Jiusheng was a professional singer, and what differentiated her from the run-of-the-mill artists in the industry was that the commercial aspect was inconsequential. Obviously, this Master Jian was rolling in it. He was not the first to want Jiang Jiusheng and definitely not the last.

She had accepted the flowers from him. Taking this reaction for granted, Jian Chengzhong threw Mo Bing a smug smile and asked Jiang Jiusheng, “So, where shall we dine tonight?”

Standing up, Jiang Jiusheng held the roses in her hand. She lifted them and swung them slowly and methodically into Master Jian’s face.

Taking a tissue to clean the wound in her palm, which had been pierced by the roses’ thorns, Jiang Jiusheng asked, “Still want to eat? Haven’t you had enough?”

Master Jian’s elegant face turned savage. “Jiang Jiusheng! You ingrate! The fact that I want to sleep with you is your—”

She interrupted him unhurriedly. “Xiao Qiao, call security.”

Assistant Chen Yiqiao responded from the entrance.

“I’m going to the next room for a smoke.” On that note, Jiang Jiusheng ignored the man, picked up her pack of cigarettes, and left for the next room.

Jian Chengzhong’s face was a picture of thunderous rage—not a pretty sight.

Arms wrapped across her chest, Mo Bing raised her eyebrows, seemingly unaffected.