Simon Forrester consoled Sienna Thornton with much coaxing and comforting before she finally stopped sobbing, though she wore a furrowed brow all night.
After dinner, Simon cleared the table while Sienna went to the balcony to wash his shirts by hand. Previously, she had thrown all their clothes into the washing machine without thinking, which ended up distorting his shirts that cost thousands each.
He never ntioned it until last night, when he ca ho from work carrying a bag. She was curious, thinking he brought sothing nice, only to find a whole stack of shirts inside.
That’s when he ntioned that his shirts could be machine washed, but needed a special mode.
She naturally asked which mode, and he ntioned a function on his double-layered washing machine at ho.
She was speechless for a mont.
Indeed, the difference between a standard washing machine worth a few thousand and an intelligent one worth tens of thousands is not minor.
The quality of life between a peasant and a wealthy landlord cannot be compared.
Pulling her thoughts back, Sienna ticulously scrubbed the white collars of the shirts.
Actually, Simon Forrester’s clothes were quite clean. He showered twice a day and spent all day in the office, so his clothes generally weren’t dirty at all, almost like they hadn’t been worn.
After washing the shirts, she went back to the bathroom to wash the rest of his clothes.
As she was washing intently, suddenly she felt arms wrap around her waist from behind.
"Are you done washing the dishes?" She turned her head to glance at Simon.
He smiled mischievously, "Yeah, finished. Now I’m waiting to take a shower with you." As he said this, he gave her a playful pinch on the side.
She burst into laughter from the ticklish sensation.
He rested his chin on her shoulder, watching her delicate hands soaked in water washing his clothes. Satisfied yet feeling a bit of heartache, he asked, "Isn’t washing clothes tiring?"
"It’s alright," she turned to smile at him, "But honestly, it’s been years since I hand-washed clothes. I’m not even sure if I’m washing them clean."
In a straightforward girl’s world, you’d expect the guy to reply to that like – It doesn’t matter, as long as you washed them, even if not clean, I’d still like them.
Unexpectedly, The Inflexible Forrester retorted without thinking, "I haven’t washed dishes in years either, so I don’t know if they’re actually clean."
Sienna: "..."
She used silence to mark the end of the conversation, but he kept rambling, "All your appliances need replacing. Who hand washes dishes anymore?"
"Oh."
"And that washing machine isn’t good enough either. Nowadays, most people have two double-layer machines, which are four drums in total, separating underwear, outerwear, sheets, and socks to wash separately..."
"Oh."
The Straight Man Forrester said, "You live quite roughly too."
Sienna: "..."
The water was gushing from the faucet when she suddenly lifted his suit pants quite energetically, soaked them back in water, and rinsed them countless tis, splashing water all over The Straight Man Forrester’s face, who started yelling behind her, but she ignored him. After finishing, she turned angrily to throw them in the washing machine to spin-dry.
The Straight Man Forrester quickly followed and stopped her just before she could throw his shirts and suit pants into the low-end washing machine: "My dear, spinning them could also damage them."
She gave him a sideways glance and, in front of his eyes, lifted his neatly pressed suit pants and wrung them out forcefully, splattering water onto the floor and splashing his legs.
Instinctively dodging, he jumped up and down on the spot.
Still wringing, she glanced at him provocatively, saying, "I am indeed this rough, so you shouldn’t like still!"
He burst out laughing, casually patting her on the head, saying, "Just teasing you. You’re not rough, as delicate as a fairy."
She threw the pants into the washing machine, picked up a shirt, and wrung it, still giving him sidelong glances, saying in an audible tone, "Since you know I’m a fairy, how do you have the nerve to complain about this and that?"
She seed angry, but he grinned, ignoring the puddle of water, and embraced her indulgently, "You know how to argue, so that sets my mind at ease."
She still held the soaking white shirt, struggling a bit.
Seeing his shirt was wet, she lightly nudged him, saying, "Alright, I have to hang the clothes to dry. You should go shower first."
"I’ll wait for you." He said, releasing her, and took the clothes from her hands, one by one, hanging them on the drying rack.
Hand in hand, they walked inside, where he pestered her to shower together, but she didn’t agree–it wasn’t ti for that yet.
So, as he went to shower, she busied herself in the bedroom a bit. That’s how he saw her when he ca out–
His beloved girl was sitting on the bed folding clothes, with n’s white and gray T-shirts, and won’s pink pajamas stacked in a pile; another pile mixed their underwear together, with her bra on top.
His heart softened imasurably. He roughly dried his hair, put the towel around his neck, stepped forward, and took the clothes she had folded, placing them neatly in the wardrobe.
Perhaps during his school days, happiness was about seeing his and his crush’s notebooks placed side by side. In his adult life, just seeing his and Sienna’s clothes mixed together filled him with joy.
*
When Sienna ca in after her bath, Simon was already lying in bed, but when he saw her co in, he promptly moved to the foot of the bed, took the hair dryer from her, and started drying her hair.
She supported herself on the footboard of the bed, leaning her head back, letting her long hair fall behind, her little feet dangling in her slippers.
As he blow-dried, Simon suddenly asked, "Why not move into my place?"
Still she didn’t look back, calmly asking, "Why should I move to your place?"
"I have a big washing machine and a dishwasher."
"Then why don’t you move back there yourself?"
Realizing the conversation was veering off course, Simon fell silent, quietly continuing to dry her hair.
She didn’t say anything more either. Once her hair was dry, she moved to the dressing stool to apply so skincare. While applying, she felt a mischievous gaze on her skin, making it seem like her freshly washed body was about to start sweating again.
She looked at him in the mirror, "What are you looking at for?"
"Admiring your beauty."
She smiled faintly, eyes downcast as she played with the lotion in her palm, dabbing it onto her face with her ring finger, softly massaging it in. Looking in the mirror, she casually asked, "When did you start thinking I was beautiful?"
"Hmm," The Inflexible Forrester pretended to ponder, then said, "The first ti you brought the dog to my place, I thought you were quite pretty."
"Haha," Sienna laughed, "But you were so aloof to back then, even later when I ca over because of the case, you barely cared."
"Oh, you had to ntion!" Simon was lying comfortably but then moved to the footboard, staring at her reflection in the mirror for a while, rubbing his chest dramatically, "You had said you had a daughter back then, how could I dare ss with a married woman?"
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