Ah! The Villains I Forced to Turn Evil Can Read My Mind-Chapter 245

The next day.

Qiao Chuchu stood before an opulent estate, feeling as though she had stumbled upon an upgraded version of the Wei Sheng Family’s mansion.

So grand.

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So luxurious.

Just walking from the gate to the front door would probably take five minutes.

Ye Huining stood on the second floor, a teacup in hand, gazing down at her.

Qiao Chuchu, impeccably made up and dressed in a soft yellow knit linen set, approached the house with a spring in her step.

Beside her walked a bodyguard.

He towered over her by two heads, broad-shouldered and long-legged, clad in a tailored suit.

His features were strikingly handsome, yet his eyes were shadowed, as if veiled in gloom, his presence imposing.

And the longer she looked, the more familiar he seemed.

Suddenly, the man lifted his gaze to meet hers.

Ye Huining’s pupils constricted. She clapped a hand over her mouth, disbelief washing over her.

Good heavens—Qiao Chuchu’s bodyguard was Shen Zhuoyan, the eldest son of the Shen Family!

That father-killing bastard!

Shen Zhuoyan’s eyes lingered on her face for a few seconds before he coldly averted his gaze.

Ye Huining remained shaken, feeling as though she had been marked by a wolf, her back prickling with unease.

A bodyguard like that absolutely must not come near her son!

She hurried to Ji Yanchuan’s side. "Son, get up. We have a guest."

Ji Yanchuan opened his eyes with difficulty, his voice hoarse and dry. "I have no strength. I don’t want to entertain anyone."

Ye Huining pulled him up with effort, coaxing gently, "Come on, this is a very important guest. You’ll be happy to see them."

Ji Yanchuan pushed her away irritably. "No! Nothing can make me happy right now."

Unless it was Qiao Chuchu.

Ye Huining nearly stumbled but didn’t lose her temper. Instead, she sat on the edge of the bed, smoothing his hair and speaking in a soothing tone. "The guest is here to buy a painting. You have a good memory and can introduce the pieces properly. Go freshen up."

Ji ​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌‌‌​‌‌​​‌​‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​​​‌​‌‌​​​​‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌​‌​​‌‌‌​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌​​​​‌‌​​​‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​‌‌​​‌‌​​‌‌​​​‌‌​‌​​​​‌‌​‌​‌‍Yanchuan had no choice but to drag himself out of bed. "Give me the description sheet."

---

Qiao Chuchu stood in the art studio, her gaze fixed on an oil painting hanging on the wall.

It was her mother’s work.

She recognized it at once.

Her mother had excelled in impressionist painting—this was the first piece she had ever sold.

According to Aunt Pei, her mother had used the earnings from this very painting to pay for both their tuitions.

With determination, Qiao Chuchu murmured, "I must have this painting. I’ve already prepared the money."

Her wealth was divided into three parts: what she had earned herself, dividends from her shares in the Pei Family’s company, and the red packets her family had given her over the years.

The red packets alone amounted to billions.

So she was determined to succeed!

Shen Zhuoyan nodded, smiling along with her. "Yes, you’ll definitely get it."

The butler approached Shen Zhuoyan. "Our master will be arriving shortly. Could you wait in the hallway? He prefers not to have bodyguards present when speaking with guests."

Shen Zhuoyan frowned. "I can stay silent, standing in the corner."

The butler maintained a polite smile, but his tone was firm. "That won’t be possible."

"Just listen to him," Qiao Chuchu said. "Some people are particular about these things."

Reluctantly, Shen Zhuoyan stepped into the hallway, his eyes lingering on Qiao Chuchu as if unwilling to let her out of his sight.

The butler closed the door, shutting out his gaze, and grinned at Shen Zhuoyan. "Heh."

Shen Zhuoyan scowled and turned away.

Meanwhile, Qiao Chuchu continued studying the painting, tracing the brushstrokes with her eyes.

Ji Yanchuan walked in from the adjoining room, fastening his wristwatch as he stopped a few steps behind her. "You have excellent taste. This was the first painting ever sold by the artist Qiao Qiao."

His voice was rough and deep, its usual vitality absent.

The mention of Qiao Qiao inevitably made him think of Qiao Chuchu.

His expression darkened with melancholy. "Her daughter, Qiao Chu, is also a fairly well-known artist. Did you know?"

"I do," Qiao Chuchu replied, still focused on the painting without turning around. "Because I am Qiao Chu."

Ji Yanchuan: "…?"