Chapter 831: Chapter 75: Plain Rice Porridge
“I will think about it seriously.”
Luo Qiu gave this response to Song Ying’s question.
Of course, Song Ying didn’t expect to receive the answer she anticipated—because this guy was too calm… so calm it was almost frightening.
No matter how strong a person is, or how indifferent one is to life and death, or even just pretending to be calm, there are always traces to be found.
He neither showed sympathy for the cheating white man nor was moved by the severed hand. As for the scene of feeding the crocodile at the end, it was more like watching a circus performance—and not a very exciting one at that.
Either he was extremely cold-blooded, or he was naturally lacking in emotions—or perhaps these things were just child’s play to him.
“Who exactly are you?” Song Ying once again stared at Luo Qiu, trying hard to catch any tiny change in his expression.
“To you all, I am just Luo Qiu,” Luo Qiu thought for a moment.
“To us?” Song Ying frowned, “And not to us, then who are you?”
“Miss Song need not worry too much about things,” Luo Qiu smiled slightly, “Actually, I won’t stay long. Maybe a few days, maybe a week, I’ll be leaving.”
“You’re leaving?” Song Ying heard the unexpected answer.
“It depends. If there are more interesting things happening here, I might stay a few more days,” Luo Qiu said indifferently.
“Is that so?” Song Ying raised her eyebrows and snorted coldly, “Very well, I’ll make you feel unprecedented boredom.”
With that, Song Ying stopped talking, ignoring Luo Qiu and, acpanied by Ottas, left the separate villa suite in the hotel.
She did not arrange any hospitality for Luo Qiu, nor did she speak another word to him, almost treating him as transparent, non-existent—though the hotel staff dared not behave the same way.
Although it seems Miss Ying is not getting along with Mr. Luo… no one saw her driving this guy named Luo away, did they?
Who knows if Miss Ying might suddenly say: You don’t need to e to work tomorrow?
So the hotel’s manager, Ottas, wouldn’t dare show any rudeness to this young man, “Um… Miss Ying is actually a nice person, why don’t you try to appease her?”
“We are not in the kind of relationship you think,” Luo Qiu smiled and shook his head, “Don’t worry about me, Mr. Ottas, you must be busy, I am fine being alone.”
Because Song Ying didn’t express anything, Luo Qiu followed along and arrived in a spacious office.
Manager Ottas looked at Song Ying, who was silent at her desk reviewing files, smiled wryly, and whispered, “Alright then, Mr. Luo, if you need anything, just tell someone outside, and they’ll inform me. There’s a secretary on duty outside, you can tell her, I’ll give the instructions.”
“Thank you.”
…
…
After Ottas left, Song Ying suddenly glanced at Luo Qiu. Feeling her gaze, Luo Qiu curiously asked, “Is there anything?”
Unexpectedly, Song Ying just stared at Luo Qiu for a while, then as if realizing something, placed her hands on the keyboard and began to type.
Luo Qiu smiled, casually adjusted the air conditioner’s temperature up by two degrees, and quietly walked to the office’s bookshelf, picking up a book.
“If you feel sleepy, find any room to sleep,” Song Ying said without looking up, at some point her keyboard typing transformed into pen writing on files, “This hotel’s service is quite good, if you have special needs, they can acmodate you. Although I harbor no goodwill towards you, you are nonetheless one of the Song family’s people, there’s no way I’d treat you poorly.”
“Reading a book will do,” Luo Qiu gestured to the book he had just taken from the shelf.
The Classic of Tea.
“Suit yourself,” Song Ying resumed her work.
“Should I pour you a cup of water?” Luo Qiu glanced at the nearly empty cup beside Song Ying.
“Don’t disturb me,” Song Ying replied without looking up, “Also, set the air conditioner back, I feel hot.”
Luo Qiu nodded, returned to the wall’s control panel, adjusted the air conditioning back to its original temperature, and returned to the sofa. This time, his footsteps were even lighter.
Actually, reading e-books might be more convenient, more prehensive.
Yet it lacks the feel of physical books. Luo Qiu, someone who enjoys reading, soon became absorbed in the contents of The Classic of Tea.
The minute and second hands of the white clock on the wall slowly rotated.
Two a.m… two-thirty… three-fifteen…
Song Ying occasionally looked up, glanced at Luo Qiu reading, and then resumed her work.
Four a.m… four-thirty-eight… Song Ying stood up with a file in hand, twirling the pen, pletely immersed in her work world.
She barely, no, pletely ignored the fact that besides herself, there was another person in the office.
In the morning, six-twenty-three, Song Ying threw down the pen in her hand, stretched lazily, and patted her shoulder.
“Gone?” Song Ying glanced at where Luo Qiu had been sitting; he was gone… she didn’t even know when he had left.
Song Ying then directly called the secretary outside the office, “That guy named Luo, did he find a room to sleep?”
The secretary replied, “No, Miss Ying, several gentlemen came early this morning and took Mr. Luo away.”
“Taken away, who?” Song Ying frowned.
“It was Little Song who came himself,” the secretary hurriedly said, “He’s been gone for more than twenty minutes.”
“Alright, I understand.” Song Ying then calmed down—it seems Luo Qiu hadn’t returned all night, even her uncle, Song Haoran, was somewhat unsettled, so he personally came to fetch him.
Song Ying shook her head; she disliked how her grandfather and uncle treated this guy as if he were a treasure.
“Did Little Song say anything else?”
“Little Song said he was taking him back to have breakfast with the chairman, said the chairman hasn’t woken up yet, still in time…”
“Nosy…” Song Ying murmured and shook her head, “Bring me something to eat, I’m a bit hungry.”
Not long after, the secretary came in with a tray.
On the tray was only a porcelain bowl, but what it contained surprised Song Ying: “White porridge?”
The secretary nodded, “Miss Ying, you’ve stayed up all night, eating something light is better.”
Song Ying shook her head, “Take it away, I won’t eat, it’s too bland; I don’t like tasteless things, remember?”
The secretary looked disappointed and somewhat anxious, bite her lip, “Miss Ying, how about you try some, I… I actually simmered it for a long time. And, it isn’t tasteless, I added ginkgo.”
Song Ying glanced at the secretary, making her feel chilled, but suddenly grabbed a spoon and tried a bite.
Soft and glutinous, though light, the flavor of ginkgo lingered in her mouth, seemingly washing away fatigue. Suddenly, Song Ying found her appetite, eating spoonful after spoonful.
“Not bad, I can eat this,” Song Ying nodded.
The secretary was overjoyed and quickly said, “There’s more in the kitchen, if Miss Ying likes it, I’ll get you some more?”
Song Ying nodded.
…
The cheerful secretary left the office with the bowl, glanced at her location—roughly an hour and a half ago.
Mr. Luo had suddenly e out and asked her, “Do you want Miss Song to give you a pliment, perhaps smile at you?”
“But…”
“Your Miss is someone who won’t refuse someone’s kindness, you know.”
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PS: Climbed four mountains today, walked over ten kilometers of mountain paths, first time my knees felt inadequate… exhausted, and if it’s weak and short, let it be.
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