Chapter 72: Softness

After Luan Nian refused to take care of Luke, it seemed there was no one left to care for him. However, Luan Nian’s words were always a mix of truth and jest—when he said he couldn’t, it probably meant he could.

So Shang Zhitao tried again: “Can I bring Luke over now?”

“No.”

“?!”

Luan Nian didn’t respond further, casually picking up Dr. Liang’s call: “What is it?”

“Recently, your father met a Professor Gong at an event. They talked about his daughter who’s in China, teaching at a university in Beijing. Can you help take care of her?”

“Gong Yue, right?” Luan Nian asked.

“Eh? How do you know?”

“I happened to meet her today.”

“That’s great! Young people should hang out, have dinner together—it’ll be fun. Otherwise, with your personality, you’d suffocate yourself, wouldn’t you?”

“Alright.”

Dr. Liang thought he had misheard: “You said alright?”

“Mhm.”

It was rare to hear Luan Nian agree so readily, so Dr. Liang didn’t dare say more, fearing he might change his mind: “Okay then, that’s settled. Goodbye.”

After hanging up, the bar staff had already left, leaving Luan Nian alone. He reclined on the sofa chair to gaze at the moon. After the wind, the moon appeared exceptionally bright. Luan Nian pondered that once the bar opened, his free time would diminish.

When Shang Zhitao called, he was slightly tipsy but answered without speaking.

Thinking she had dialed the wrong number, Shang Zhitao moved the phone away to check—it was him: “I’m at your place, but no one’s home. Why aren’t you talking? Did you drink? Should I make you some noodles?”

“No, I’m not going back tonight.”

“Oh.”

Shang Zhitao ended the call and saw Luan Nian’s little red flag swimming in the tank. Fish were easier to care for than dogs; they didn’t need daily walks, and their owner could spend the night out freely. She waited in his living room for a while, but Luan Nian didn’t return. It wasn’t until midnight when she heard Luke barking that she got dressed and went downstairs. She saw Luke running around Luan Nian; after not seeing him for a while, the dog seemed excited.

Luan Nian patted Luke, his voice slightly nasal: “Why are you here?”

Luke sat on the ground, whimpering softly. Luan Nian squatted down to pet his head, and Luke rested his head on Luan Nian’s knee, just as good at pleasing people as his master.

“It’s windy outside.” Shang Zhitao ran to the window to look: “Why didn’t you come up through the underground garage?”

Luan Nian sat down to play with Luke, seemingly ignoring her.

Luan Nian knew he was difficult to get along with. He grew up in a happy, well-off family and should have had a sunny disposition, but he didn’t. As Dr. Liang put it, by the time Luan Nian was seven or eight, he acted like a miniature adult, always frowning, rarely genuinely liking anything, and hard to please. His personality was unlike Dr. Liang’s or his father’s—it was as if he were adopted.

To make matters worse, when Luan Nian was a teenager, the things he liked were quite alarming—weapons, combat, shooting. During those days, Dr. Liang couldn’t sleep, worrying that he might accidentally stray onto an anti-human, anti-social path.

Such a person lacked a sunny disposition and empathy, with very few soft spots inside.

Luan Nian was aware of this. Over the years, he deliberately practiced, yet he still became particularly sharp when truly unhappy, almost impossible to please.

Seeing Shang Zhitao sitting on the couch watching him made him impatient. He told Luke: “Tell your master not to look at me.”

He wouldn’t even speak directly to Shang Zhitao.

Shang Zhitao felt that Luan Nian was a bit strange today, though she couldn’t pinpoint why. He seemed to have been drinking and caught a chill, his face slightly flushed. Shang Zhitao reached out to touch him, but Luan Nian leaned back, frowning at her: “If you have something to say, say it—don’t touch me.”

“... You seem sick.”

“None of your business.”

Luan Nian went upstairs, and Shang Zhitao followed behind, with Luke trailing her. Luan Nian walked into the master bedroom, blocking the door, and mocked Shang Zhitao: “Sorry, I can’t serve you tonight. Handle it yourself.”

“What do you mean?”

“You came here to satisfy your physical needs, right? Not happening tonight.”

“Oh. Alright then.”

Shang Zhitao felt a bit angry, took Luke to the guest room, turned off the light, and lay down. She hadn’t really argued with Luan Nian before. She was a young woman with a temper, capable of fighting when provoked, but she had never truly exploded in front of Luan Nian. Why? She concluded it was because she lacked the confidence to get angry with him; she had to self-counsel. She strained her ears to listen for any sound from Luan Nian.

Luan Nian was showering, then went downstairs. Why wasn’t he coming to find her? Oh well, Luan Nian never lowered his head. Shang Zhitao sat up dejectedly, sighed, and finally got out of bed.

She saw Luan Nian rummaging through the first-aid kit for medicine. Shang Zhitao approached to feel his forehead, but he turned his head away. Suddenly, she wasn’t angry anymore—why argue with a sick person? She quickly consoled herself.

With quick eyes and hands, she found the fever-reducing medicine under the first-aid kit: “Is this what you’re looking for?”

Luan Nian reached for it, but Shang Zhitao hid it behind her back. He lunged to grab it, his cheek brushing hers. Shang Zhitao quickly tiptoed to kiss his chin repeatedly, like a chick pecking rice. She was coaxing Luan Nian, her eyes bright, timid, and gentle. Her lips were warm and soft, obedient.

Luan Nian looked down at her humble posture, feeling something pierce his heart.

“Not sleeping tonight.” Luan Nian finally spoke properly to Shang Zhitao, his breath hot—he was truly sick.

“Mhm, not sleeping.”

Shang Zhitao fetched water for him to take the medicine, then held his hand: “So, did you have a social engagement today?”

“Mhm, the bar hosted guests today.”

“Didn’t you say you’d make me the first cocktail?”

Upon hearing this, Luan Nian snorted and ignored her again, turning to go upstairs. Shang Zhitao followed: “You’re breaking your promise! You promised me the first drink—I haven’t tasted it yet!”

I wanted to let you have the first drink, but weren’t you strolling with your male roommate? The two of you, walking the dog, looked like a little married couple. Luan Nian admitted he was angry about that. That drink should feed the dog rather than give it to her! But he couldn’t bring himself to say it—what was there to say? It wasn’t as if she was the only one allowed to have complicated relationships with the opposite sex. If he wanted, if he wished, he could have them anytime.

But Shang Zhitao kept pestering him. Seeing Luan Nian silent, she continued complaining: “Hmph, you’re breaking your promise.”

Luan Nian pulled her close, holding her tightly. His tongue parted her lips and teeth, entwining with hers. After a long while, he fiercely asked: “Have you tasted the first drink now?”

Shang Zhitao blushed, her tongue licking her lips. She shook her head: “Not thoroughly.” Then she tiptoed to bite his lips. Back in Dunhuang, his palm touched her calf through the fabric, making her heart race for days.

So, can kissing calm anger?

His mouth tasted of cocktails, slightly intoxicating. Shang Zhitao collapsed in his arms, her hands around his waist, her head on his chest, softly calling him: “Luan Nian.”

“Speak.”

“Can I sleep with you? Without doing anything.”

“Mhm.”

They really did nothing. Shang Zhitao snuggled into his embrace, pulling out his arm to rest her head on it, her palm against his chest. Seeing he didn’t object, she became bolder, wrapping her arms around his waist and murmuring in his arms: “Just lying here quietly without doing anything feels really nice to me.”

“What’s nice about it?” Luan Nian asked.

“Just... just nice.” Shang Zhitao struggled to explain. This gave her the illusion that there could be more between them beyond sex.

Luan Nian’s body was a bit hot. He couldn’t tell if it was from the fever or the alcohol, but his mind wasn’t clear, and he felt a bit uncomfortable.

“Go to the guest room.”

“No.” Shang Zhitao nestled in Luan Nian’s arms. Rarely had she seen him so obedient while sick, and she found herself strangely fond of it. She felt a bit heartless for liking him when he was vulnerable. She tightly wrapped her arms around him and spoke.

“Let’s not go trekking in Dunhuang again. It was too tiring; my legs still don’t feel like mine today.”

“CEO Jiang suddenly said to me at the end of the event, ‘Flora, I remember you.’ How does she remember me? I’ve only appeared in front of her a few times...”

“Lumi is funny and brave. I think being with Lumi for so long has made me stronger...”

“Luke...”

Luan Nian covered Shang Zhitao’s mouth with his hand: “Why are you talking so much today?”

“I need to finish telling you what I want to say for the next half month because we won’t see each other for half a month...”

“Is your phone a decoration?”

“You hardly reply to my messages or talk on the phone.” His replies were always brief, and their calls lasted only a minute, occasionally longer.

Shang Zhitao softly complained, sounding like a nagging little housewife. When she turned over, the lactic acid buildup in her inner knee caused excruciating pain, making her groan.

In the darkness, Luan Nian turned her toward him, lifted her leg onto his body, and gently massaged her calf with his palm.

“It hurts.” Shang Zhitao didn’t know if it really hurt or why, but tears nearly fell.

“So I said, you need to exercise.”

Enduring the pain, Shang Zhitao moved closer to him, adopting a somewhat ambiguous position. Luan Nian slightly shifted back, creating a gap, and said to her: “Don’t provoke me.”

Shang Zhitao dared not provoke him further and stayed quietly in his arms. Her phone rang, and she picked it up to see Dony asking: “What are you doing?”

Shang Zhitao glanced at Luan Nian and put her phone down. Seeing Dony’s name flash by, Luan Nian asked: “Has Dony really not harassed you?”

“No. Why do you ask?”

“Because at Lingmei, you seem like the easiest one to bully.”

“Is that also why you chose me?”

Shang Zhitao used the word “chose,” as if Luan Nian originally had many options and picked the easiest one to handle.

“Mhm. You’re right.” Luan Nian released her leg and turned away, giving her a stubborn, cold back. Shang Zhitao didn’t mind, resting her face against his back and saying: “I secretly checked your schedule—you’re not traveling. So, please help take care of Luke. If you can find time to bathe him, that’d be great. He’s like a little mud ball. And recently, he seems to love playing frisbee—throw it out, catch it back, having a blast.”

Luan Nian recalled her and Sun Yuanzhu walking Luke on the street, which now seemed quite comical.

The medicine kicked in, and he felt a bit dizzy. His phone lit up, showing a message from Gong Yue: “Can we host our event at your place next week?”

“Welcome. You can contact the bar manager directly.” Luan Nian replied, sending her the bar manager’s number, then deleted her as a friend.

Luan Nian was actually quite lazy. He was too lazy to deal with social obligations and reluctant to change the status quo.

At least, that’s what he believed at the time.