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The cowardly girl was no longer acting timid. Standing at the bedroom door, she smiled gently at him and playfully teased him for a kiss.
Her eyes shimmered, her lips were rosy red, her breath soft and warm. His fingertips still carried the dampness from the ends of her long hair.
In the bundle of clothes she held, there was a small piece—a delicate bra strap hanging down, swaying faintly in the shadows.
Zhou Hangyan now fully confirmed that she wasn’t wearing anything underneath.
The dim lighting in the bedroom cast a hazy yellow glow, like a mist. Beside her was the soft, inviting bed.
It wasn’t just one kiss he wanted.
For a fleeting moment, Zhou Hangyan considered walking over, picking her up, and tossing her onto the bed.
She was tormenting him.
Every inch of his body felt wrong, restless.
His gaze darkened, and an almost uncontrollable heat surged through him.
Xiang Ge pressed her tongue against the roof of her mouth, watching him silently for a moment. The curve of her lips slowly widened, bit by bit.
“Alright, if you don’t want to, then never mind.” She turned around, pressed down on the bedroom doorknob, and said lightly, “Sweet dreams, Xing Xing.”
Whether or not Zhou Hangyan had sweet dreams, Xiang Ge didn’t know. But she herself hadn’t dreamed of anything pleasant.
Xiang Ge felt as though it had been many, many years since she last saw something positive, uplifting, or joyful in her dreams—something that could bring peace to both her mind and body.
She still woke up early.
The room was heavy with the lingering drowsiness of the night. The pillows and blankets carried the clean scent of detergent and fabric softener. Xiang Ge pulled the blanket over her head and took two deep breaths before yanking it down. She sat up on the bed, propping herself up, and stared blankly for a while.
As summer approached, the days grew longer. By five in the morning, the first rays of sunlight had already peeked out. A small section of the curtains at the foot of the bed hadn’t been drawn, and the light that filtered in seemed both cold and warm.
Xiang Ge slid back under the covers, curling her entire body into a ball. She stared at a patch of pale wallpaper on the wall and began another round of daydreaming.
Every so often, she glanced at the clock, counting down the minutes. At six fifty-five, Xiang Ge buried her head back under the blanket.
Five minutes later, exactly at seven o’clock, Zhou Hangyan knocked on her door.
The sound started loud, then softened, with a few unhurried knocks before silence fell once again.
Xiang Ge ignored him.
Another five minutes passed.
Zhou Hangyan’s voice came through the door: “Xiang Ge, wake up.”
Still, Xiang Ge ignored him.
At seven fifteen, after the knocking stopped, there was the faint sound of the doorknob turning and the door opening.
Zhou Hangyan walked to the window, raised his arm, and with two swift motions, fully opened the curtains. Then he returned to the side of the bed, looking down at the lump on the bed where it was impossible to tell where her head was.
There were two pillows placed horizontally at the head of the bed. Xiang Ge had pulled them close together, creating a small dip between them.
Her head was nestled in that soft dip, the blanket pulled high, covering her completely. Only a mess of tangled hair could be seen spilling out from the edge of the blanket.
Zhou Hangyan leaned down, grabbed the edge of one pillow, and slowly pulled it away.
The lump shifted slightly as he moved, tilting gradually to one side.
Zhou Hangyan licked his lips and chuckled silently. After removing the pillow, he watched as the round bump hidden under the blanket plopped down onto the mattress.
Then, he pressed the pillow he was holding down on top of it.
Xiang Ge: “….”
Xiang Ge flailed her arms, extending them out from under the blanket, but her head was still covered and pressed down. She blindly reached forward, grabbing hold of the man’s wrist and pushing it away.
Zhou Hangyan let go and straightened up.
Xiang Ge threw off the blanket.
The man’s face was expressionless. “Get up.”
“I’ve actually been awake for a while,” Xiang Ge said.
Zhou Hangyan nodded insincerely. “Get up and eat breakfast. If you want to sleep more afterward, you can.”
Xiang Ge propped herself up and sat cross-legged. After a moment of thought, she said, “I want to eat that sandwich again. The one I ate last time was already cold.” She recalled the taste, shuddering slightly. “It was really terrible.”
Zhou Hangyan gave her a sidelong glance, his voice calm. “Was it cold because I woke up too early?”
Xiang Ge shook her head. “No, it was because you doubted my devotion to you.”
One second.
Three seconds.
Five seconds.
Zhou Hangyan turned and left the room.
Xiang Ge watched his retreating figure, grinning mischievously.
By the time she finished changing and freshening up, breakfast was nearly ready. Xiang Ge dashed into the kitchen, looked around, and came out carrying a glass of milk. Only then did she take a proper look at his living room.
They had arrived late last night, and she had been too tired from her busy day to pay much attention.
At first glance, Zhou Hangyan’s home perfectly fit the image of a single, neat-freak, ascetic man. Light-colored walls, geometric furniture with sharp lines and angles. In the living room, a gray and white sofa faced a white coffee table, where books and items were arranged meticulously. Across from it stood a massive bookshelf covering an entire wall, filled row upon row with neatly aligned book spines.
Xiang Ge walked over with her glass of milk, her gaze sweeping across the titles. It stopped at the second-to-last row, pausing.
A long, neatly aligned row of thin books stood out. They were taller than the others, thinner, and colorful. The spines bore titles and issue numbers.
Magazines.
Magazines featuring her on the cover—from the first issue when she had just entered the industry to the most recent one. Every issue, every type.
Xiang Ge froze.
She placed the glass of milk on the edge of a shelf, leaned forward slightly, extended her fingers, and traced them along the spine of each magazine until she reached the very first one.
She stopped, picked one out by its spine.
On the cover was a young woman in a bright red petal dress, her lips painted a seductive red, her sharp eyes angled upward.
Xiang Ge remembered it clearly. That was her first cover shoot after being scouted.
That magazine had been niche, and she had been relatively unknown at the time—a tiny newcomer. After the issue hit the stands, she hadn’t even received her copy. Later, she scoured nearly all the bookstores and newsstands near campus before finally finding it.
That was several years ago.
She lowered her head, looking at the magazine in her hands. It was pristine, with only slight wear on the edges of the cover. One corner was slightly curled up, but someone had carefully taped it with transparent tape to prevent further damage. The tape was applied so meticulously that it was almost invisible.
Xiang Ge lowered her head again and pulled out another magazine nearby.
Every single issue.
Every single one was there.
She could almost picture him buying these magazines—his quiet, subdued expression as he carefully sorted and pasted them, preserving them with such care.
Outside the window, tree branches were lush, and sparrows chirped noisily.
At seven-thirty in the morning, the sunlight was dazzling. Facing the large floor-to-ceiling window in the living room, rays of light streamed in, shining directly into her eyes, making them ache and tear up.
Faint sounds drifted from the kitchen, while in front of her, the bookshelf displayed row upon row of her.
From beginning to end, it was like a timeline spanning several years.
It was as if, during these long eight years of her solitary life, he had never truly been absent.
Zhou Hangyan left early for work. Xiang Ge sat at the dining table, munching on a slice of toast, waving goodbye to him. Mumbling incoherently, she managed to say, “Be careful on your way.”
This routine wasn’t new. Back when he went to school and she stayed at his place, she was already familiar with this dynamic, even after all these years.
But as soon as he left, Xiang Ge groaned, tossed the toast back onto the plate, and collapsed onto the table.
After finishing breakfast and washing the dishes and cup, Gong Mo’s call came through.
Gong Mo, still upset with Xiang Ge, spoke in a cold, detached tone. “Where are you?”
Xiang Ge lay flat on the bed, kicking her legs lazily. “Hmm?” she responded lazily.
“Did you not go home last night?”
Xiang Ge paused for a few seconds before realizing that today, she probably had work.
So Gong Mo must have been calling from her empty apartment.
It was too late to return now, so Xiang Ge asked Gong Mo to find some clothes for her, gave her Zhou Hangyan’s address, and had her come pick her up.
When Gong Mo arrived, Xiang Ge was stunned.
The woman stood emotionlessly at the door, dragging a large suitcase. Seeing Xiang Ge open the door, she pushed it toward her. “Dresses, pants, shoes—they’re all inside. I packed a few outfits for you, along with makeup and mouthwash.”
“…”
Gong Mo suddenly exclaimed, “Oh! I forgot to pack your underwear.”
“… It’s fine, I brought some myself.”
Gong Mo nodded, hesitated for a moment, then finally spoke. “I noticed you took that black lace nightgown.”
“…”
You really are such a meticulous assistant.
Gong Mo paused, then couldn’t help but remind her, “You’ll be very busy soon. Take care of your health.”
“…”
It’s not what you think.
Originally, Xiang Ge had nearly wrapped up her remaining work before the start of filming for Cocoon . However, she had been given a last-minute fashion show, which wasn’t particularly important. She went through the motions, and since it ended early, she decided to wait for Zhou Hangyan near the Second Hospital at a nearby café.
She didn’t tell him. Sitting in a corner, she ordered a pancake and a strawberry ice cream while scrolling through Weibo.
The café had a lovely ambiance, with a Japanese playlist playing softly. Her seat was partially hidden by greenery, offering some privacy.
As she scrolled through Weibo, Xiang Ge began to zone out, her thoughts drifting to the row of magazines on the bookshelf that morning.
He had known she was a model all along.
He had always known.
Xiang Ge licked her lips, a bubbling sense of anticipation rising within her.
Customers came and went in the café, the small brass bell above the door jingling cheerfully. The waitress greeted warmly, “Welcome. Just two of you?”
Through the foliage, Xiang Ge caught a glimpse of a man’s profile passing by. She blinked, raising her head.
Zhou Hangyan pushed open the door and entered.
Xiang Ge let out a surprised “Eh?” and blinked, following him with her gaze. She then noticed someone else behind him, closely following him inside.
A woman.
Red dress, long hair.
High heels clicked sharply against the cement floor.
A woman.