Eleanor Spencer was woken up by the ringing of her phone.
She groggily opened her eyes, greeted by the sight of a man’s firm chest and a faint, familiar lemon fragrance. Eleanor smiled gently and reached for her phone.
It was an unfamiliar number.
She answered it and heard the other party introduce themselves: "Hello, is this Eleanor Spencer’s phone? I’m a journalist from the East Splendor Tis. May I ask about..."
"Sorry, I’m not accepting any interviews at the mont." Eleanor interrupted and hung up the call.
She was all too familiar with this type of journalist. They wouldn’t stop until they’ve extracted every useful piece of information from you, and they’d blow up any slip-up you make in your words.
Currently, online opinion is siding with her. There’s no need to accept such interviews. If the journalist caught a small mistake, it would be troubleso to handle.
"Who called?" Mason Nightshade turned over, held her, and kissed the nape of her neck.
"A journalist called."
Just as she finished speaking, the phone buzzed again.
It was another unfamiliar number. This ti, Eleanor didn’t even bother answering and directly turned the phone off.
With the situation about Eleanor Spencer causing such a stir, the other side was undoubtedly trying every way possible to get a scoop, like an accurate confirmation if she was the one who was hit.
Announcing a statent now could gain her a lot of sympathetic fans, but since she hasn’t produced any representative work yet, appearing too frequently in the public eye could just lead to annoyance.
Getting extrely popular would lead to severe backlash, then waiting for another chance to rise again.
She’s in no rush at all.
After lying in bed for a while longer, Eleanor got up.
Her waist was embraced by the man, Mason Nightshade. Without opening his eyes, he nuzzled his fluffy head against her leg and lazily asked, "Where are you going?"
"Can’t I just go to the bathroom?"
"Hmm." He mumbled in agreent, released her, and suddenly pulled her back, "The bathroom isn’t in that direction."
Eleanor was taken aback and turned around, only to see that Mason’s eyes were still closed. Could he see with his eyes shut?
To test her theory, Eleanor waved her hand in front of him.
Mason caught her small hand that was moving around.
Eleanor was surprised, "Mason, do you have eyes on your eyelids?"
"..." Mason raised an eyebrow and slowly opened his eyes, staring at her, "What do you think?"
Eleanor pinched his chin and examined him closely, "Hmm... as of now, it doesn’t seem so, but who knows, maybe you’re a spirit under disguise, hiding a third eye.
My theory has support. How could a normal human have such a handso face?
Back in school, I used to wonder if you were a spirit; did you disappear suddenly because you flew back to the Celestial Court?"
"Stop reading so many fantasy novels and watching those TV dramas." Mason teased her, "Do all actors have such vivid imaginations?
If we’re talking about spirits, you are more like one."
A spirit that enchanted his heart and stole it away.
"I’ll go downstairs to make breakfast. You can sleep a little longer."
Eleanor got ready and went downstairs, seeing Granny Rong in the kitchen making breakfast. She voluntarily started washing the vegetables that had already been picked and set aside.
Seeing this, Granny Rong exclaid, "Oh my, Young Madam, I can handle this. You should rest. Leave these chores to us servants, your arm is still injured, and it’s not suited for these tasks."
"Granny Rong, I’m not that delicate," Eleanor laughed, then looked down at her own delicate hands, and frowned slightly again.
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