"My sticky notes were torn off," she said.
Cheng Zhirang was taken aback, looking at the sticky notes on the floor that hadn’t yet been pieced together and the paper balls thrown into the trash can.
"I," he suddenly hesitated, not quite understanding her obsession as an author with these inspirational sticky notes, unable to empathize, couldn’t rashly comnt, "Shall I put them together for you?"
"No need."
Mu Qiu gathered the sticky notes torn in half to her side, neatly folded them, and placed them into the nearby bag while asking,
"But Brother Cheng, can you answer a question for ?"
"What?"
"Without a secret marriage or having children, can we develop another kind of relationship?"
Cheng Zhirang lifted his radiant eyes, eting her gaze with an unchanged expression.
There were still tears in her eyes, ready to flow down her cheeks to her delicately feminine chin, and finally drip onto her clothes with just a blink.
The corner of her eyes was truly, beautifully red, so beautiful it appeared fragile, prompting sinister thoughts in one’s mind.
Silence flowed between them; he didn’t answer, and Mu Qiu had no intention of skipping this topic, just staring at him like that.
After a long while.
Cheng Zhirang knelt down on one knee, switching from a squat to a kneel, extending his hand to graze her tear-stained eyelid with bent fingers, gently flicking upward to brush off the tears on her lightly trembling lashes.
Mu Qiu blinked softly, brushing his finger lightly with the corner of her eye.
He gently and tenderly advised, "Are you sure you’ve thought it through, that your feelings toward aren’t just pure admiration? Sotis fans easily mistake admiration for adoration because of appearance, and then think that’s love."
"But the process of admiration evolving into adoration is also a form of love’s evolution." Being a writer of romance, how could she be outdone?
"But I’m thirty years old."
"Whether you’re thirty doesn’t matter to ; I just happen to like the thirty-year-old you. Does that affect anything?"
Cheng Zhirang shook his head, still sowhat disagreeing, "You’re only twenty-two, eight years younger than . In those eight years, you might et soone you like even more—soone you yearn to be with, like a youthful crush in love."
Mu Qiu’s tears were still hanging on her lashes; after hearing that, she earnestly thought about it and responded with a nasal voice, "I don’t want to predict the future; now is what I can control."
"What if you regret it?"
"I don’t know if I’ll regret it; that’s a future issue. But I will try to transform my admiration now into long-term affection. If it ultimately doesn’t work, as adults, we’ll part ways amicably."
"You haven’t considered whether you’ll regret it in the future, yet you’ve planned for an amicable parting?"
"The forr is unpredictable; the latter can at least be anticipated."
She analyzed and explained each of his questions with utmost seriousness, almost as if sincerely assuring him she had considered the issue genuinely.
Though tears persisted on her face when she answered, her voice remained nasal, and her whole being was curled in a corner, making her seem pitiable.
But in that state, she seed to ask him, are you done asking? Is that all?
Cheng Zhirang was amused by his own imagination.
He was silent, saying nothing, while Mu Qiu raised her hand to wipe the tears from her chin, suddenly changing the subject.
"I saw the door was pried open when I ca back, saw the ss inside through the doorway, and was very scared."
Cheng Zhirang didn’t know why she suddenly brought this up. She had just insisted on his agreent a mont ago, yet now she was broaching another topic.
He listened, keeping his gaze respectfully fixed around her eyes.
"I thought maybe the intruder just vandalized and left, so I entered, but she hadn’t left."
"What if the intruder was a man? What if it was a man? I’m not strong enough to overpower him. Perhaps all he’d need is to quietly cover my mouth, and I wouldn’t be able to resist, couldn’t wait for help to arrive."
"But luckily, it was a woman. I analyzed that she probably couldn’t beat , so I was relieved. But she tore my sticky notes and even insulted ."
"She said I wasn’t qualified to stand alongside you."
"Why? Why am I not qualified?"
Her tone should have been questioning, but she asked with calmness and logic.
Cheng Zhirang listened sincerely, leaning forward a bit, asking one last question, "So you just want to prove you have that qualification?"
"No, such an undemanding matter doesn’t trouble . I believe I am qualified, that’s enough, no need to prove it to her. I just—"
"Wanted to complain to you."
Her eyes, devoid of tears now, were still beautifully red at the corners as Cheng Zhirang looked on, feeling his resistance entirely dissipate.
"Then I can only, as you wish."
——
Chen Song didn’t expect Cheng Zhirang to have so much to say.
She had tidied up the exterior, even taking out the garbage, yet the two inside hadn’t co out yet.
She wasn’t sure what they could be talking about; the normal protocol would just be comforting, discussing compensation and subsequent matters.
Assistant Wen had already called back saying that the girl’s incident had been dealt with.
Chen Song ended the call, walked to the door, and knocked sideways on the door.
Inside ca Cheng Zhirang’s sowhat lower voice.
"Just a mont."
Chen Song withdrew her hand, crossed her left arm over her stomach, propped her right elbow on her left hand’s back, and rested her fingers on her chin, frowning slightly.
She had only heard a brief discussion inside; then there was no sound. Were they talking quieter or doing sothing else?
No way.
Chen Song was amused by her own thought.
Anyone in the entertainnt circle might misbehave, just not Cheng Zhirang. He was the kind of man who even felt it inappropriate to et people wearing slippers; how could he misbehave?
She’d probably have to be insane to think such thoughts.
But sotis she felt being insane would be easier.
After waiting a bit more, Cheng Zhirang finally erged.
Pushing a rose-gold suitcase with a plush deep green long-legged monkey, followed by Mu Qiu, her eyes slightly red.
Their distance was very respectful, Mu Qiu holding her bag, and her morning’s lipstick from the show still intact.
Chen Song examined them scrutinizingly, deciding that they appeared normal, and figured Cheng Zhirang was only being gentlemanly.
Then she sneered inwardly at her previous wild thoughts. Perhaps she’d been too tense emotionally lately, leading to such wild imaginings.
Cheng Zhirang pushed the suitcase handle single-handedly, stopping in the middle of the living room.
"Thank you, Sister Chen."
Chen Song: "It’s just convenient work..."
"Thank you, Sister Chen," Mu Qiu repeated from behind.
Sister Chen collected her smile, feeling that eerie illusion again.
"Is there anything else we need to take?" Cheng Zhirang asked Mu Qiu, his voice excessively gentle.
Mu Qiu glanced around, lowered her lashes, and shook her head, "Nothing."
The things she loved were destroyed anyway; taking them was pointless.
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