Velvet Chains of a Tycoon

Lu Sheng sat on the couch in the living room, handling documents on his tablet. After finishing the last file, he glanced at the time—11:30 PM.

Qin Ran had been in the bathroom for over half an hour now.

Do women really take this long to shower?

If she planned to stay in there for two hours, was he supposed to skip sleep tonight?

Frustrated, he stood up and walked to the master bedroom door, knocking firmly.

"Qin Ran, how long has it been since your last bath? What's taking so long?"

"I—I can't come out!"

Qin Ran sounded close to tears. Did she want to stay in the bathroom this long? She just couldn't figure a way out!

"Can't come out? Did someone tie your legs together or something?"

"No one tied my legs, but I still can't get out."

Lu Sheng grew thoroughly annoyed. "Are you saying you physically can't come out, or that you don't *want* to? Make yourself clear."

The bathroom might be small, but the tatami mat inside was wide enough for Qin Ran to lie down comfortably. Was she trying to occupy the bathroom all night and then ambush him when he went to use the restroom later?

Nice try. As if he'd let her have such an opportunity.

"Qin Ran, I'm counting to three. If you don't come out by then—"

Before he could finish, Qin Ran cut him off. "Even if you count to ten, it won't help. I still can't come out."

Lu Sheng snapped. "What do you need to get out?"

"If you pass me a box of tissues, I'll be able to come out."

His expression darkened. "There's a tissue box right there on the tatami mat. Unless you're blind, you should see it."

"I saw it, but it's full of wet wipes."

"Wet wipes aren't better than dry ones? They clean more effectively and even disinfect!"

"But wet wipes can't bail you out here!"

Lu Sheng blinked, confused. "Bail you out? If you've hurt yourself, shouldn't you be using a band-aid?"

"I'm not hurt, but I *am* bleeding."

Lu Sheng felt like Qin Ran was playing games with him.

"Qin Ran, do you think I'm stupid? No injury, no blood. Is it a nosebleed?"

"Not a nosebleed. It's my period."

"My what?"

He looked even more bewildered. "You're in the bathroom, and your 'aunt' showed up. You still need to come out, right? Are you afraid to face her or something?"

"Where is she? I'll go handle her for you."

Qin Ran: "..."

She knew Lu Sheng was cold and distant, but she never expected him to be utterly clueless about life.

When the bathroom remained silent for a while, Lu Sheng grew anxious. He strode over and pounded on the door again.

"If you're still alive, say something! Where exactly is this 'aunt' of yours? If you're too scared to deal with her, I'll chase her away for you."

Qin Ran groaned inwardly. "She's already here—with me."

Lu Sheng froze, then blurted, "Did your 'aunt' die and possess you now?"

It only got worse.

"'Aunt' means menstruation. My period started. Do you understand now?"

Lu Sheng: "..."

Women were so complicated. Why call menstruation "aunt," anyway? He understood what menstruation was—a monthly cycle—but he had no idea what women needed during it.

"So… wet wipes are useless here?" he asked cautiously.

*BANG.*

A fist hit the bathroom door from the other side. "Lu Sheng, are you capable of being any dumber?"

Lu Sheng: "...I don't know."

"If you don't know, why don't you look it up on your phone?"

Lu Sheng: "..."

For the first time in his life, Lu Sheng typed into his tablet's search engine: *What items do women need during their period?*

A list popped up immediately. He clicked on one result:

Tissues, sanitary pads, safety pants, ginger brown sugar, heating pads.

Not a single one of these items was in his house. If he'd had even one, Qin Ran wouldn't be stuck in the bathroom.

Gritting his teeth, he called through the door, "Hold tight. I'll go buy them for you."

Normally, he always kept tissues at home, but this apartment was new, and the housekeeper must have forgotten to stock them.

Lu Sheng grabbed some clothes from the wardrobe. Just as he was about to change out of his robe, he remembered Qin Ran was still in the bathroom. The frosted glass ensured privacy, but to be safe, he decided to change in the guest room.

Pushing open the guest room door, he spotted Qin Ran's suitcase lying open, clothes scattered everywhere—including bras. Long sleeves, short sleeves, jackets—all fine—but bras?

Why did marriage mean dealing with things he'd never encountered before?

He kicked the suitcase aside and changed as quickly as possible, then grabbed his car keys and left. Inside the bathroom, Qin Ran heard hurried footsteps followed by the slam of the front door. Lu Sheng must have gone out.

He was probably furious, but she was equally mortified. On their wedding night, of all times, he had to run out and buy such personal items for her. She understood his frustration.

Half an hour later, Lu Sheng returned, carrying a large bag. Being stared at by the convenience store clerk had already drained his patience.

He placed the shopping bag outside the bathroom door and knocked. "I've left the stuff outside. I'll step away so you can grab it. Hurry up and sort yourself out."

His tone was sharp, but Qin Ran didn't hold it against him. For such a reserved man to handle this kind of unexpected situation on their wedding night—it would irritate anyone.

Once he stepped away, Qin Ran quickly opened the door and grabbed the bag. Inside, she found an assortment of sanitary pads—daytime, nighttime, cotton, ultra-thin—and also ginger brown sugar and heating pads.

Her throat tightened, and tears nearly welled up. This was the first time a man had bought these things for her, and he'd thought of everything.

Still pretending ignorance, yet knowing more than anyone else?

After taking care of herself, Qin Ran stepped out of the bathroom feeling refreshed. Seeing Lu Sheng sitting stiffly on the couch, she greeted him cheerfully.

"Mr. Lu, I'm done. You can head to bed now."

Lu Sheng: "..."

It was past midnight. If he didn't rest soon, he wouldn't wake up tomorrow. As the CEO of a major company, his schedule was as precise as clockwork. Bedtime was non-negotiable by 11:30 every night—he valued routine above all else. Staying up late wasn't just inconvenient; it was unacceptable.