Su Li was taken aback by Shen Cishu’s words.
Shen Cishu’s current state was clearly off.
She was on the verge of losing her mind!
Whether it was because of Bai Huizi’s provocation earlier or not, this woman—who usually appeared perfectly normal—was extremely sensitive when it came to anything related to her mother.
“You only stayed with Dad because of money, didn’t you?”
“Why are you so stubborn in the end, refusing to ask for that money?”
Shen Cishu’s fingers dug deeply into Su Li’s slender neck, leaving jagged, multicolored paint marks on her pale skin.
She suddenly shoved Su Li to the ground, straddling her waist. The folds of her skirt, stained with blotchy paint, revealed dark red patches that looked like dried blood.
The sticky oil paint oozed from her palm creases into Su Li’s throat, and the pungent smell of turpentine mixed with the metallic scent of blood churned in the air between their breaths.
“Why won’t you speak?”
“Is it because you feel guilty, knowing you’ve wronged me?”
“You must have spent all that money on that filthy Bai Huizi, haven’t you?”
“If not, how could someone as pretty as you be short on money?”
“When you hooked up with Dad back then, you could have hooked up with anyone else too!”
“Where did all that money go?”
Anger laced Shen Cishu’s voice, but Su Li looked at her calmly, then forcefully pushed her off.
“You’re about to go mad from jealousy, Cishu.”
Su Li’s tone remained composed.
She didn’t know exactly what had happened between Shen Cishu and her mother, but she didn’t need a client who was losing her mind.
At least during their transactions, her clients couldn’t be crazy.
Shen Cishu stumbled back, falling onto the scattered books on the floor. She even accidentally knocked over a paint bucket, spilling colors everywhere.
“How dare you—”
Her words were cut off as her back slammed into an overturned brush holder.
A gilded-edged palette skewered through her tangled hair, and solidified titanium white paint clung like cobwebs to her temple.
She stared at Su Li blankly, tears welling up in her eyes.
“Mom has finally shown her true face, hasn’t she?”
“You really never loved me!”
She smiled as she spoke, but suddenly broke down into sobs.
“You’re always like this, always like this.”
Crying, she curled up like a frightened little white rabbit, burying her face in her knees and quietly whimpering.
“I just said a few words to you, and you got so angry.”
“Every time it’s my sister—no matter how outrageous what she does is—you always forgive her with a smile.”
“I hate you. I hate you.”
Su Li watched Shen Cishu silently. When she finished speaking, Su Li finally said softly:
“You need to calm down, Cishu.”
She had to make sure Shen Cishu wouldn’t do anything extreme right now.
When she had provided services to Jin Ke’er before, Jin Ke’er was in a state of rational mania.
But Shen Cishu now had clear mental issues.
“It’s not my fault, so why am I the one who needs to calm down?”
“The one who needs to calm down is Mom, isn’t she?”
Shen Cishu’s voice cracked with tears. Su Li said nothing more.
The floor was already a mess, and she had no intention of cleaning it up.
When she left, Shen Cishu could ask the Janitor to clean the room.
Su Li found a tissue and wiped the paint from her neck.
The bruises from Shen Cishu’s hard grip would heal soon enough, so there was no need to worry.
She quietly sat on the nearby sofa, watching Shen Cishu, hair disheveled and stained with paint, hugging her knees and crying silently, without offering comfort.
Jealousy had distorted her face; communication was impossible now.
After all, Su Li wasn’t Shen Cishu’s mother—just playing the part.
What had happened between them was beyond the scope of her work.
Right now, Shen Cishu was filled with hatred toward her own mother.
Of course, some of the blame lay with her too.
Earlier, she had been spotted together with Bai Huizi, which Shen Cishu caught on to—fanning the flames of her inner turmoil.
But Su Li didn’t care about that.
She had already accommodated Shen Cishu according to the gentle mother image described by Bai Huizi.
An Emotional Therapist could only help Shen Cishu with emotional guidance—not cure her illness.
That was the Doctor’s job, not hers.
When Shen Cishu slowly lifted her head, Su Li rose from the sofa.
She began picking up the spilled paint, pretending to tidy up.
“Put it down!”
The cold, commanding tone rang in her ear. Shen Cishu stared at Su Li icily, her eyes blazing with fury.
“How dare you push me? Is that what a service worker should do?”
“I’m paying you to serve me—not for you to ride on my head.”
As she spoke, Shen Cishu stepped toward Su Li, raising her palm to slap her.
But a terrifying force gripped her wrist.
Shen Cishu struggled, but the grip was like a clamp, holding her hand tightly.
“Su Li!”
Shen Cishu glared at her fiercely, anger burning in her eyes like wildfire.
“You’re revolting!”
Su Li remained expressionless, saying nothing.
“I’ll give you three seconds to calm down. If you can’t, pay me my fee and we’ll end today’s transaction.”
“Understand?”
Su Li’s voice was calm but void of any usual warmth.
Cold as a machine.
Shen Cishu remained silent.
When Su Li finished counting to three and released her hand, Shen Cishu immediately slapped her hard.
“Smack!”
The crisp sound echoed through the room.
Su Li felt the force on her cheek but kept a neutral expression.
“Smack!”
An even sharper sound rang out.
Shen Cishu was hit so hard she fainted onto the floor.
She clutched her burning cheek in disbelief, staring at Su Li.
“You…”
“You…”
Her delicate fingers pointed at Su Li, utterly shocked that Su Li had dared to hit her.
Had she lost her mind?
“How dare you hit me?!”