At five thirty in the afternoon, Cheng Zhirang finished reading the first script and was ready to think about dinner.
"Qiu..."
Before he could say Qiuqiu, he looked up to see her eyes red, the small desk of the writing chair she was sitting on piled with tissues.
His expression changed, and he set down what he was holding and walked over to her.
"Why are you crying?"
Mu Qiu’s choked voice trembled, her eyelashes damp and still with tears.
"Can a man’s care and thoughtfulness be faked too?" she asked faintly, looking up.
Cheng Zhirang: "..."
Having experienced such situations before, Cheng Zhirang calmly discussed it with her, adhering to a neutral perspective.
"It’s difficult. It’s hard to pretend for a long period without slipping up, and sotis it’s the woman who doesn’t want to see the truth."
Mu Qiu: "What did the female lead do wrong?!"
"...Maybe she did nothing wrong."
"She definitely did nothing wrong; she just loved soone, and the person she loved didn’t love her back."
"Does she know she’s indulging in his false care and thoughtfulness?"
This was a bullseye hit.
Mu Qiu choked up, struggling to defend the foolish female lead: "She’s just too in love, willing to believe in his kindness, thinking she can warm his heart."
"Everyone’s life involves more than just love. If she set a boundary for when to stop trying to warm his heart, the ending would be different."
"So I’m not the only one in your life?"
"..."
Cheng Zhirang suddenly found himself at a loss for words.
Unable to speak, he simply took action.
He pulled the small desk aside and picked her up.
His arms tense, hands under her thighs. Mu Qiu’s slender legs were scooped up by him, her whole body lying limply on him like a deflated balloon.
"You’re not talking." She leaned her head on his shoulder, sounding listless.
Cheng Zhirang found it amusing, patting her back: "But in my life, there were originally twenty-nine years without you."
"Then you can say it will be all about from now on."
"Are you teaching how to sweet-talk?"
Mu Qiu tightened her hold on him, pressing her cheek against his, staying silent.
The distance from the balcony to the room wasn’t far, and since Mu Qiu hadn’t heard him say what she wanted, her tears were welling up again in her still-red eyes.
"I don’t want to have dinner on Thursday, I changed my mind," she said, choking with grievance.
Cheng Zhirang remained silent until they stepped into the room, then suddenly said:
"As long as you’re willing, you’ll always be by my side."
After saying this, he placed her on the bed, squatted in front of her, and gently wiped away the tears at the corner of her eyes with his thumb. His magnetic voice softly asked, "Do you really not want to go?"
She made an effort to hold back her tears, maintaining her composure: "I’ll think about it again."
Cheng Zhirang chuckled softly.
Afterward, Mu Qiu reflected deeply on herself, concluding that the emotional rollercoaster was likely due to the arrival of her period.
But nstruation couldn’t be controlled. So she decided not to have Cheng Zhirang stay over today, to avoid taking out her bad mood on him.
Besides, having another person in her ho for an extended ti, even if his presence was justified, always felt a bit unsettling.
An occasional visit was fine since she loved to cling to him at night. But if she couldn’t cling to him and they had to share several days, it would really be awkward and uneasy with nothing to say.
So after dinner, she started subtly and overtly trying to get him to leave.
"I feel like I’m not in the best mood today. So as not to affect innocent you, let’s et in a few days?"
Cheng Zhirang paused in the action of taking her tablet.
"...Is there such a reason?"
"Why not? When you’re in a bad mood, conflicts are more likely. I don’t want to argue with you."
Cheng Zhirang raised an eyebrow.
Rather than seeing it as potential conflict, he thought it seed more like a bird returning to its nest, rejecting other birds hiding in the sa nest, raising its wings to continuously push the others out.
He put down the tablet, sat on the sofa, and looked up at her: "Being alone for too long when you’re in a bad mood will affect your mood even more. Are you sure you don’t need ?"
...She did need him, just not for that long.
Her fingers unconsciously picked at the sofa back, saying: "I want to be alone for a bit."
Cheng Zhirang held out his hand.
"Co here."
She hesitated but walked over, sitting beside him, leaning into his embrace.
"If you just want a mont alone, I can stay downstairs and not disturb you. You should know, I don’t randomly step into others’ private spaces.
But if my not disturbing you also makes you uncomfortable, then you’re rejecting . Isn’t it nice to have soone with you? This is on the outskirts; I’m worried you’re not safe enough and want to be here."
Mu Qiu seed to have her concerns exposed, turning her head to avoid his gaze, staying silent for a while, then reaching out to hug him, rubbing her head against his neck.
Cheng Zhirang’s lips curved upward, gently smoothing her long hair, kissing her at the corner of her eye.
...
Love is a magical thing. Reaching a consensus on "being together" is only the first step, where their laughter and anger are the most straightforward emotions.
It’s only when ti passes that the second step begins—truly attempting to understand each other’s genuine thoughts, becoming a silent observer to understand her real life, the life she leads without him in it.
Cheng Zhirang felt like he had perhaps touched upon that faint layer of protection around Mu Qiu, not fully but at least touched.
Starting an hour after dinner, Mu Qiu took her computer, instructing him not to touch anything, and then hid in a place that surprised him.
He didn’t actually sit quietly reading the script as he said, but kept an eye on her every move.
She actually nestled in a corner of the living room’s floor-to-ceiling window, under the curtains, with a little inspiration base, as well as spots in the bedroom by the curtains, and near the kitchen fridge, all filled with colorful sticky notes.
With headphones on, she huddled in those tiny spaces, typing on her computer on her lap.
In the quiet space, only the sound of breathing and the faint clacking of keys could be heard.
Occasionally, there was the sound of picking up and putting down a pen, as she recorded inspiration on sticky notes.
If she stayed in one place too long, her legs would fall asleep, prompting her to carry the computer to another spot.
The lighting didn’t change to reflect day or night, so she didn’t feel ti passing.
She moved to the kitchen.
Cheng Zhirang quietly approached, standing a distance away, leaning against the wall, listening to her activity through the iron-gray fridge.
After a while, he sat down as well, opening his tablet to continue reading the script.
The distance between them was just that of the fridge, sitting on either side, each quietly engrossed in their own tasks, without disturbing one another.
Yet the atmosphere was strangely harmonious, as though in the next mont, they’d reach out for a pen or paper, exchange amused glances, and settle back into their work.
This way of interacting was so unique that Cheng Zhirang found it refreshing, and after Assistant Wen urged him once again to post on Weibo, he posted a cryptic ssage.
[Cheng Zhirang V: I have a secret base now.]
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