Chapter 52: Manga Panels

“Hiss. “

Lao Zhao felt something off about what Shi Ying had said, but cooking indeed required hands—what Shi Ying said made sense. Everyone needs to eat, right? Takeout wasn’t healthy; didn’t he often cook for himself too?

Thus, Comrade Zhao Fugui scratched his ear and returned to his stool, muttering softly, “Cooking is just cooking—what’s so hard about it? Why shout like that? Look at your attitude, boy—it’s enough to knock over a donkey.”

“Damn, you look so refined, but who knows how you deal with clients outside? Don’t tell me you threaten and intimidate them.”

Lao Zhao glared a few times in Cheng Simin and Shi Ying’s direction before turning back to flip the charred yet tender skewers.

Cheng Simin wasn’t by the grill, but her brain was starting to roast from visualizing Shi Ying using his hands on himself.

Her imagination flared up like panels in a tl manga, cutting between multiple angles. In the bathroom, on the sofa, even inside a public restroom—Shi Ying’s fingers gripping a rod-like object obscured by bright mosaic pixels.

She licked her lips, her pale eyes shimmering. Her gaze repeatedly shifted from Shi Ying’s face to his right hand. But then she remembered he was left-handed—writing tests with his left hand, probably holding other things with it too. So, her heated stare moved to his fair left hand while her peripheral vision intensely scanned his suit pants.

Aphrodite’s messenger pigeon flew through the sky, and Cheng Simin suddenly began appreciating the sexual tension of men in suits.

Especially Shi Ying, whose tailored physique accentuated broad shoulders and a narrow waist, making him appear as elegant as a jade tree under the wind. She sniffed the air around him—wherever Shi Ying was, there was always a pleasant, luxurious scent.

Cheng Simin truly resembled a feline—but not the cute calico Shi Ying mentioned earlier. She was more like a fierce, predatory cat.

In just three minutes, Shi Ying’s discomfort grew, causing goosebumps all over his body, even trembling at the roots of his eyelashes. First, he interlaced his fingers on his knees to block her view, but realizing Cheng Simin only became more fixated, he reddened his ears and buttoned up his suit jacket.

Under the spell of beauty, Cheng Simin couldn’t help but praise him: “Shi Ying, I think this is the first time I’ve seen you in a suit. It fits you perfectly. You look really good.”

Of course, it was carefully chosen before he left home that morning, specifically for seeing her today. The subtle patterns on the cuffs, the multiple ties he tested—all paid off. After their reunion, this was the first time Cheng Simin openly complimented him.

He should have been proud, exuding confidence, but instead, having exposed his vulnerability earlier, Shi Ying felt like a fluffy animal forced to reveal its soft belly. Awkwardly, he replied, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” The more shy and cautious he appeared, the cuter Cheng Simin found him. She scooted closer, reducing the distance between them, and asked, “You smell nice too—is it agarwood or cardamom? Not yesterday’s perfume, but somewhat similar.”

“Mm.” Shi Ying’s eyes lingered on Cheng Simin’s moving lips, his palms slightly sweaty, feeling the tie tighten. He subtly avoided her fluttering nostrils and flying hair, holding his breath as he responded, “Today, I’m wearing Oud Royal.”

“Oh.” Cheng Simin nodded, pushing her black-rimmed glasses up to use as a headband, rubbing the red marks on her nose. Her smile was radiant, her teeth gleaming.

“Noted—you like woody scents. It suits you well.”

Some men in suits with cologne seemed tacky, like strutting roosters, overly flashy, as if ready to drive a Panamera into sleazy places—extremely greasy. But Shi Ying wasn’t one of those men. His scent was always unique, gentle and refined, creating an effect far greater than the sum of its parts.

Cheng Simin’s smile was dazzling under the fiery stars, her heartbeat intensifying again.

Just by removing her glasses and smiling at him, Shi Ying reacted like Pavlov’s dog, saliva glands activated.

He desperately wanted to kiss her, suspecting another second here might lead him to impulsively kiss the corner of Cheng Simin’s mouth in front of everyone.

Far away, Lao Zhao’s eyes occasionally shone like searchlights. Shi Ying clenched his fist, veins popping on his hand, abruptly standing up from the steps, smoothing out the creases in his pants and awkwardly saying, “Well, I think Jin Gang and Beibei are tired. Let’s go since we’ve eaten.”

“The wind is making me feel a bit cold.”

His eyes darted around, finally pretending to relax as he looked into the distance.

“Tomorrow, um, tomorrow I have a proposal to work on.”

“Huh? Don’t you need Boss Zhao to review the design?” Cheng Simin thought he was genuinely cold and busy, hurriedly pouring the remaining wine into her mouth.

Shi Ying bent down to take her empty glass, placing it in the ice bucket along with others, glancing at Lao Zhao: “Can he still see anything? He’s terrible at drinking, doesn’t even know one-two-three anymore. Just finalize the drawings tomorrow—I’ll take them to the hostel manager in the afternoon.”

“Alright.” Cheng Simin stood up, looking past Shi Ying at Jin Gang and Beibei, who were indeed dozing off in the firelight. Autumn nights were windy, and though Cheng Simin wasn’t cold, Northwest weather was unpredictable—falling asleep outside could easily lead to catching a chill.

She was also a bit tired, stretching lazily towards the sky: “Then give me the bucket—I’ll go get my bag and call Sister Zhou out.”

“Okay. I’ll let Boss Zhao know we’re leaving first.”

“Mm, see you later.”

Cheng Simin had just walked back into the restaurant with the ice bucket, looking around but not spotting Zhou Yan yet, when Zhang Gong and Li Gong called out to her.

Shi Ying spent twenty minutes saying goodbye to Lao Zhao, who clung stubbornly, refusing to let him go. He kept dragging topics, trying to pry out Zhou Yan’s WeChat and phone number.

Shi Ying was particularly careful about boundaries in interpersonal relationships. Though he wasn’t close to his neighbors, knowing full well what Lao Zhao intended, without Zhou Yan’s permission, he couldn’t hand over her contact information.

After blowing in the wind for a while, Shi Ying finally relented, saying he’d sound her out later—if Zhou Yan agreed, he’d push Lao Zhao’s WeChat to her. Whether or not she added him was up to her.

Having resolved things with Lao Zhao, Shi Ying supported his shoulders, preparing to escort him upstairs to rest.

Passing the restaurant, Shi Ying saw Cheng Simin sitting at the table again, which worried him. He released Lao Zhao, shoving him towards the winery gate: “Boss Zhao, you’re right. Since you’re not very drunk, just walk up yourself.”

“Go to bed early once you’re up there. Stop playing with your phone—you’re not young anymore. Early to bed, early to rise is good for your health.”

Lao Zhao, already unsteady, had one arm affectionately draped over Shi Ying’s shoulder, saying, “I’m not drunk,” feeling warm inside from being taken care of.

Unfortunately, the tender scene didn’t last long—the human crutch suddenly disappeared.

He stumbled, nearly falling, and turned back to argue about his age, but the winery door slammed shut in his face.

Looking outside, Shi Ying was already gone.

“Damn. That brat.”

Lao Zhao’s eyes blazed red as he picked up the U-shaped lock behind the door, locking the winery from the inside. Before climbing the stairs, he didn’t forget to yell towards the kitchen: “Zhang Tie Dan, Li Gan Tou! Whoever finishes drinking last, pull down the restaurant’s roller shutter! Make sure it’s locked—I’m going to sleep! Don’t let any flower thieves in.”

“Tomorrow, tomorrow I’ve got to get up early for the winery.”

On the spiral staircase, Lao Zhao clung to the railing, crawling up slowly. Inside the restaurant, the men he called Tie Dan and Gan Tou were drinking heartily with Cheng Simin.

As soon as Shi Ying pushed open the glass door, he heard Cheng Simin shouting loudly while playing finger-guessing games with Zhang Gong.

“All Five Blessings opened!”

Accompanied by exaggerated gestures, cries of “Five Kings” and “Six Six Six” echoed loudly. Shi Ying frowned as he approached. Cheng Simin had lost two out of three rounds, smiling as she poured herself a drink.

Cheng Simin had won quite a bit earlier, and this was her first glass. As she filled it, before lifting it, a hand pressed it back onto the table.

“Didn’t you say you were leaving? Why are you drinking here again?”

Plans interrupted, Cheng Simin looked up, making micro-expressions, when Li Gong chimed in: “Xiao Shi, you’re not being fair. Earlier, you said you were going to make a call, and she went to the restroom. But isn’t the restroom right here? How long was your call?”

“The drinks aren’t finished yet—are you trying to run away?”

“That’s unacceptable. All these bottles are opened but not finished. Such a waste.”

Cheng Simin tugged at Shi Ying’s sleeve, wrinkling her little nose, signaling him not to rush and sit down first.

Shi Ying knew Zhang Gong and Li Gong weren’t bad people, but they had this nasty habit: once they started drinking, they wouldn’t leave the table until someone passed out on the floor.

He came in worried Cheng Simin would be pressured into drinking by them, feeling anxious, unable to sit still.

But considering it was half a work setting, he didn’t lose his temper, forcing a smile. Directly picking up Cheng Simin’s glass, he drank it, then leaned over, pouring the remaining bottles of red wine into a large cup, raising it to the two foremen.

“Foreman Zhang, Foreman Li, both seniors—I’ve learned a lot from you since joining the winery. Thank you. Today, I toast to you.”

With that, he tilted his head back, gulping down the wine like water, finishing the entire large glass.

Afterward, he turned the cup upside down to show it was empty, gently placing it back on the table.

Ignoring their shocked expressions, Shi Ying lowered his gaze, picking up Cheng Simin’s canvas bag from the chair, slinging it over his shoulder, and glanced aside: “Now the drinks are cleared. Can we leave?”

“What about Sister Zhou?”