#132: One day

“So when did we say we were getting married?” Shang Zhitao turned over to face Luan Nian while lying down.

“Sounds like you don’t want to marry me?” Luan Nian pinched her cheek. “Hmm?”

“Gentlemen use words, not force,” Shang Zhitao protested.

“You’re right.”

Luan Nian really did use his mouth.

Lately, whenever he was alone, he’d get wild thoughts—and Shang Zhitao always knew how to provoke him. While he was still in meetings, she’d send a photo: dewy red lips, slender neck, a glimpse of her bare chest; or while he was at a business dinner, she’d send a picture of her long legs crossed.

He’d act composed and send her a simple “?”. Shang Zhitao would play innocent: “Does this nightgown look good?”

She kept teasing him, like she’d attended some kind of strange training. Luan Nian even considered paying for another round of that training—he was absolutely in love with Shang Zhitao’s devilish side.

The nights were the hardest. Staring at her photos, he’d suddenly lose control. At first, he tried running to let off steam, but running didn’t help at all. In those moments, he’d curse her in his mind: “Just wait! I’m going to ruin you!”

Luan Nian kept his word. He truly went in with the intention of ruining Shang Zhitao.

She lay on the bed unwilling to move, so he squeezed in beside her, pulled her up, and gave her a firm smack on the butt. “Didn’t you love sending pictures? Hmm?”

Sweat dripped onto her back. He arched over her and kissed it away. Shang Zhitao lost her balance and sank into the covers. His hand moved to the front, his teeth gently nipped her earlobe, and his tongue traced the tender skin behind her ear. Then he suddenly turned her face toward him and swallowed her scream with a kiss.

Shang Zhitao was falling apart. At one point, she started to blame Lumi a little.

It was Lumi who taught her to add some spice to the relationship—she even gave Shang Zhitao a tutorial on what to say and when. Shang Zhitao followed her advice, using these tricks to maintain their bond, but in the end, it was still exhausting.

Luan Nian had really been pushed too far by her.

And when he lost it, she couldn’t take it. She finally began to give in, her voice soft as she pleaded, “Luan Nian… I won’t send you pictures anymore…”

Luan Nian pinched her cheek again. “Keep sending them. Don’t stop. Every day, head to toe, send it all.” His hoarse voice trembled against her ear. She tried to turn away, but he wouldn’t let her, even whispering something more outrageous. “Videos are fine too. Any kind of video.”

“I was wrong.”

“No, you weren’t.” Luan Nian bit the spot below her collarbone. “Keep it up. I like it.”

Luan Nian wasn’t a saint. He had a lot of dirty thoughts about Shang Zhitao—and he wanted to try them all.

The night was long. They hadn’t seen each other for a week, and with so much foreplay built up, there was no way this night would go to waste.

At some point, Shang Zhitao even felt a flash of shame. She tried to push him away, not wanting him to see, but he pulled her hands apart and buried his face.

The sound of him swallowing made her nervous. Having just experienced an intense moment, she was now incredibly fragile. She tried to stop him. “Luan Nian… don’t…”

“You don’t like it?”

Shang Zhitao wanted to say she didn’t—but a soft moan escaped instead. She couldn’t even tell if she liked it or not. All she knew was that Luan Nian was too much.

He was too much. Shang Zhitao thought as she closed her eyes.

The next morning, when she opened them, she saw Luan Nian acting like nothing had happened, answering messages. Seeing her awake, he pulled her into his arms. “Were you satisfied with the service last night?”

Shang Zhitao blushed furiously. “Other than being exhausted…”

“You’re tired?” Luan Nian chuckled. “It was basically all self-service. You didn’t have to do much.”

“…”

Even when Luan Nian was being vulgar, he had a way of sounding like he was criticizing you—but he always described things with such precision. Shang Zhitao, frustrated, bit his shoulder, her long hair spilling across his chest.

Luan Nian twirled the ends of her hair with his fingers before letting go. Shang Zhitao bit down harder. He finally flinched in pain and grabbed her chin. “What are you, a dog?”

“You’re the one dismissing all my effort,” Shang Zhitao huffed.

“What effort did you make?”

“…I moaned…”

“That’s true.” Luan Nian kissed her cheek, then her lips, slowly and softly. Shang Zhitao loved his morning kisses. He always kissed like he was showing off, leaving her dizzy. Before she knew it, she was already sitting on him.

After more fooling around, they finally got out of bed. As he got dressed, Luan Nian asked, “Wanna see a movie?”

“Sure!” Shang Zhitao jumped out of bed and got dressed quickly. Her fair complexion stood out against the muted tones of her coat, making her look elegant and cool.

Sometimes you have to admit—after being together for a long time, your vibes start to merge. The other person’s temperament seeps into your bones. Even if you stand a meter apart, strangers can instantly tell: these two are a couple.

Shang Zhitao was happy with everything—except for Luan Nian’s damned aura. They were just going to a movie, and he had to dress so well. With sunglasses covering his eyes, his sharp nose and thin lips stood out even more. Just standing there waiting to go in made it seem like he was showing off. Girls kept sneaking glances at him. He ignored them all, looking down to ask her, “No popcorn? No soda? Weren’t those your movie companions?”

…

Shang Zhitao had once complained that Luan Nian never watched movies with her. She’d said, “Do you know how fun it is to hug a soda and popcorn during a movie? You don’t get it at all, you boring old man!”

Luan Nian remembered. He bought popcorn and soda at the counter and went into the theater with her.

Shang Zhitao suddenly thought of Dr. Liang and Luan’s father at the hotel and said to Luan Nian, “Let’s go see Dr. Liang after the movie.”

“Dr. Liang doesn’t need you checking in on him.”

“?”

“They went on a picnic with Old Shang and Da Zhai.”

“They didn’t tell me?” Shang Zhitao was surprised. “My parents didn’t say anything either?”

“Who do you think you are?” Luan Nian joked. “I only found out just now after calling.”

They looked at each other and laughed.

Sitting in the dark theater, Shang Zhitao leaned her head on Luan Nian’s shoulder and asked, “Did you suggest watching a movie because you’re going to propose to me in the theater? Like when the credits roll and the screen says ‘Shang Zhitao, marry me,’ and then the whole theater stands up and cheers, and all our friends pop up from the crowd to congratulate us?”

These past few years, proposals in movie theaters have become trendy—you often see videos of them online. Shang Zhitao felt a little nervous. “Really? Are you planning to propose to me today?”

“Definitely not,” Luan Nian told her. “I really have no intention of proposing.” Then he added two words: “Today.”

But Shang Zhitao didn’t believe him. She was convinced a proposal was coming, otherwise why would he suggest watching a movie together? She watched the film half-heartedly, frequently turning around to check if there were any familiar faces behind them.

She didn’t know why. She had never thought about marrying Luan Nian before, but on this particular day, she suddenly began to expect it. She didn’t even care how the proposal happened. While watching the movie, she thought, Even if he just says “Let’s get married” while we’re out walking the dog or having dinner, I’d say yes. A proposal while walking the dog still counts as romantic—after all, their fur baby would be there.

Luan Nian could tell her mind was elsewhere, but he was determined not to say anything. Life is long—what’s the rush? He had no intention of using clichéd tricks to propose. He had his own plan. As he’d said before, inspiration comes in a flash, but a good idea—and its execution—requires refinement. His perfectionism kicked in. Until then, he would play dumb, maximizing the dramatic effect.

“If you’re not in the mood for a movie, we could do something else?” Luan Nian’s hand slid onto her leg, fingers lightly drifting upward. Shang Zhitao grabbed his hand immediately, startled.

Luan Nian chuckled, kissed her on the cheek, and withdrew his hand. After a moment, he leaned over again and asked, “You sure you don’t want to try it in the theater?” Seeing her wide-eyed expression, he grabbed her hand and said, “Watch the movie, or we’ll do something else.”

Shang Zhitao was genuinely spooked and sat frozen in her seat, afraid he might really try something. Watching a movie with Luan Nian was a strange experience—he didn’t even move, but his presence was overwhelming. Shang Zhitao kept sneaking glances at him, and he’d boldly look back—and steal a touch while he was at it.

When they left the theater, Luan Nian asked, “Wanna go to the library?”

“Huh?” Shang Zhitao was confused. Luan Nian usually just hung out at her place when he visited. At most, they went grocery shopping together. He rarely initiated outings like this.

“Don’t you like going on dates?”

“I do.”

“Then let’s go to the library,” Luan Nian said, checking his watch. “Afternoon tea first, then the library.” He didn’t even ask for her opinion—just laid out the plan, overbearingly.

“So what’s our full schedule today?” Shang Zhitao suddenly felt excited. She didn’t have to be in charge, and the fact that Luan Nian wanted to spend the whole day dating her was thrilling in itself. She was curious how this sly man had planned it all out.

“Afternoon tea, then the library. After that, dinner, then live music at a bar, and finally, we’ll walk home.” Luan Nian was serious. “You can object, but I won’t change anything.”

Shang Zhitao burst out laughing. “I won’t object, I won’t object. Let’s go on a date!”

Luan Nian took her to a café for coffee and desserts, then they headed to the library. Shang Zhitao picked up a book on livestream e-commerce; Luan Nian grabbed a magazine.

He glanced at her book. “Thinking of trying livestream sales?”

He knew her well. No matter what she did, she always started by studying it. If she couldn’t grasp it, she wouldn’t jump in.

“Is it too late to get in?”

“Not at all. You could ask Lin Chuner for advice—her company’s been doing agricultural livestream projects.”

“I’m thinking of selling agricultural products too. I want to help farmers sell rice, soybeans, cabbage, garlic, and scallions.” Shang Zhitao whispered, “Any advice?”

“The core of livestream e-commerce is logistics and quality assurance. Think through those two things. It’s completely different from your advertising business.”

“Mm! I’m just toying with the idea for now—haven’t decided yet.”

“Got it. Wishing you success, Lady CEO of Ice City.” Luan Nian patted her head and returned to his magazine.

For dinner, they went to a Russian restaurant near the bar. Shang Zhitao rarely ate Russian food on her own, and never with friends. But the Russian food in Ice City was authentic. When she was little, her father would occasionally bring her here after payday. She hadn’t been in over a decade.

The restaurant’s European décor was grand. Luan Nian had reserved a table in advance—otherwise, there’d be a long wait.

Not long after they sat down, the show began: beautiful Russian performers started singing and playing instruments, creating a lively atmosphere.

Shang Zhitao loved borscht. She sipped it slowly. “I wish I could have this at home.”

“I’m not your hired chef. If you want it, make it yourself.”

“Oh.” Suddenly, the music stopped, and people stood up, singing love songs. Some were filming with cameras and phones. Luan Nian glanced at her expression and cursed internally. Damn, what a coincidence.

“Shang Zhitao,” he called her.

“Yeah?”

“I’m not proposing, so fix your expression.”

Sure enough, a guy nearby stood up, pulling his girlfriend to her feet. He gave a long speech—probably about how far they’d come, hoping to be together forever—then dropped to one knee and pulled out a ring. The girl burst into tears.

It was so moving that Shang Zhitao was completely caught up in it, laughing and crying like a fool.

Luan Nian watched her get emotional over someone else’s proposal, feeling like she was a total goofball.

When it ended, Shang Zhitao turned back to their table. “That was so touching.”

Luan Nian raised an eyebrow. “You were hoping I was going to propose? Can’t wait to marry me, huh?” He took a bite of steak.

Shang Zhitao mimicked his raised brow. “Mr. Luan, you’re way too full of yourself.”

After dinner, they went to a nearby bar.

It was quiet inside. People lounged on sofas listening to live music. Luan Nian found a seat by the window and ordered two drinks. Shang Zhitao leaned against him, and they listened in silence.

Sometimes, she felt exhausted.

Running her own company was nothing like working for someone else. She constantly had to strategize, knowing that the livelihood of over fifty employees depended on her decisions. If she brought in another brand to represent, she’d need to double her team.

Her mind was always busy. It was rare to have such a perfect day—one where she didn’t have to think about work, or even make decisions. Luan Nian had arranged everything.

Then Luan Nian walked up to the small stage, spoke with the singer, and was handed a guitar. He sat down, adjusted the mic, and said:

“Shang Zhitao, wanna sing?”

Everyone looked at her. The girl had a radiant smile and a bright presence—like spring in Ice City.

“Me?”

“Us.” Luan Nian invited her to duet. He usually didn’t like drawing attention in public, but the spring night was beautiful, the bar’s ambiance just right, and suddenly, he had the urge.

“I want to sing Way Back Into Love. Can you handle that?” Shang Zhitao teased him.

“You think I can’t?”

Luan Nian strummed a few chords. “Let’s go, Miss Shang.” He looked at her—the bar was dim, but the light in his eyes was dazzling, openly full of love. Phones came out to record them.

It was the first time they’d sung together.

Shang Zhitao looked at Luan Nian. He was still arrogant, but something had changed—because he loved her now, there was a gentleness in his gaze that hadn’t been there before. She was completely smitten. She handed her phone to the singer. “Can you record this for us?”

Their first duet—it deserved to be remembered.

Luan Nian played the intro, sometimes glancing at the strings, sometimes at her.

Their voices blended beautifully, and the melody was lovely. Every glance between them sparkled—like swallows in spring, carrying twigs in their beaks, building a nest in each other’s eyes.

When the song ended, they stood and bowed slightly to the audience, then returned to their seat by the window. Shang Zhitao rewatched the video. The sparks when their eyes met—it was electric. She loved it so much. She sent it to Sun Yu, Lumi, and He Yun, and to the small group chat with Chun’er and Xiao Mei. Luan Nian casually posted it in his group too.

His bros blew up the chat. Chen Kuannian teased:

“Come see these middle-aged lovebirds! Smells like cheese in here!”

“Only one step left till the grand finale—Luan Nian’s obsessive romantic plan,” Tan Mian added.

“So where’s it at now?” Song Qiuhan asked.

“Full speed ahead,” Luan Nian replied.

He’d never imagined the thing he’d pour the most effort into in his life wouldn’t be work—but this. He’d used everything he’d ever learned and still felt it wasn’t enough. He didn’t even realize he was going all-in, leaving no exit.

A man nearing forty, baring his soul for love. People might laugh or scoff. So what? he thought. I want this.

Sun Yu saw the video and said, “You guys should consider getting married. Our company now offers marriage counseling services, by the way. Hahaha.”

Lumi said, “Holy crap! My stubborn donkey isn’t stubborn today! But somehow even hotter??”

Shang Zhitao warned her to watch her language and replied, “I used everything you taught me. The consequences are too much to bear.”

“Tsk tsk. A man still in his prime. I’ve got more tricks—want to learn?”

“Sure, why not. Never too old to learn,” Shang Zhitao joked.

Lin Chun’er watched them sing and thought they were perfect together.

Shang Zhitao’s brightness, warmth, and gentleness wrapped around Luan Nian, softening his edges. Not dulling them—his sharpness remained—but she covered them just enough. Perfectly.

She said, “People in love don’t need words. Love is in their eyes, the corners of their mouths, even the tips of their hair.”

“Poet mode activated,” Xiao Mei teased.

Shang Zhitao loved this day.

She knew it was rare to have an entire day so free, just to go on a simple date with Luan Nian. Tomorrow, he’d fly back to Beijing, and they’d return to their respective battles. But she wasn’t sad. She liked the way things were.

Still, she realized something—though they only had two days together each week, she had started to rely on him. Before, Luan Nian had been her work mentor. When she ran into problems, she sought his guidance. Even though she loved him then, she hadn’t really leaned on him. But now, she did.

When trouble came, she told him. When she needed help, she went to him. When she had free time, she reached out. When apart, they worked hard. When together, they were each other’s everything.

They’d slowly found a true balance between them.

That night, Luan Nian stood in front of the book wall in her living room and said, “I finally understand the feelings you and he had back then. And I understand what these books mean to you. I’ll cherish these books with you. I’ll also cherish the true feelings between you two and the youthful years you shared.”

Shang Zhitao nodded and threw herself into his arms. “Luan Nian, I really loved today.”

It was a perfect day.