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Song Zhi mercilessly spoke: “Then there are too many things you need to change.”
As she spoke, she tried to pull the hem of her sweater from Jiang Yan Zhou’s grasp, but after several attempts, it didn’t budge.
Seemingly afraid she would leave, he clutched it tighter and tighter.
Song Zhi frowned: “If you don’t let go, I’ll shout ‘indecent assault.’“
The soft touch of the sweater came through his fingertips as Jiang Yan Zhou looked up at Song Zhi.
But he just stared at her, his eyelids drooping, saying nothing.
His tolerance for alcohol wasn’t good, yet he rarely got drunk.
People with strong self-control never allow themselves to lose control.
This was the first time Song Zhi had seen him this drunk.
Drinking without restraint.
People seem to only know how to cherish something after they’ve lost it. Song Zhi didn’t understand why he could change now but didn’t before.
She didn’t want to understand either, because such matters were no longer related to her.
She reached into Jiang Yan Zhou’s pants pocket, rummaging around carelessly.
Her feverish heat inadvertently touched a certain spot. He slightly raised his eyebrows, his gaze deep, watching her silently.
His Adam’s apple swallowed lightly, seemingly suppressing a sudden surge of desire.
Initially, Song Zhi just wanted to take out his phone to call his driver, but she realized her actions might be considered flirtatious.
Feeling a bit awkward, she lightly coughed: “That...”
She expected Jiang Yan Zhou’s usually reserved nature to say something that would make her blush.
Instead, he blinked innocently: “Do you want to touch the back too?”
Damn!
What was with this sudden understanding?
Song Zhi simply took out her own phone. Jiang Yan Zhou had previously called her using Zhang Yi’s phone, so the number was still in the call history.
She redialed the number, and after several rings, someone answered.
A deep male voice came through the receiver: “Hello?”
Song Zhi succinctly said: “Your boss is with me; he’s drunk. Come and pick him up.”
There was silence on the other end: “Hello?”
Song Zhi: “......Jiang Yan Zhou is drunk and here with me. Come and get him.”
This time, the silence lasted even longer.
The man muttered: “The signal is terrible; can’t hear what you’re saying.”
Then he hung up.
Hearing the busy tone in her ear, Song Zhi furrowed her brows in confusion.
She thought Zhang Yi’s tone sounded strange—stiff and emotionless, like he was reading from a script.
Just as she prepared to scroll through her contacts to call Jiang Yan Zhou’s personal assistant,
her shoulder suddenly felt heavier. Jiang Yan Zhou buried his head in her neck and fell asleep.
The sound of breathing gradually stabilized beside her ear.
Song Zhi reached out to push him away but hesitated and finally softened her heart, letting her hand fall.
Xia Wanyue was crouching in front of the cat nest, staring blankly at the kittens nursing around the big orange cat.
Although He Hanyang had taken one, there were still many left.
Xia Wanyue had asked around but still hadn’t found anyone willing to adopt them.
With her current financial situation and energy, taking care of two or three cats was manageable, but this many was overwhelming.
She was worried and thought about sending them to a pet shop when the doorbell interrupted her thoughts.
The sound was urgent and intense.
The neighbor’s mischievous child rang her doorbell every morning as a prank.
She wondered why the timing had changed today.
Angrily, she went to open the door: “If you keep pressing the bell, I swear I’ll tear your door down……”
The word “down” stuck in her throat and didn’t come out.
Because she saw Song Zhi struggling to support an unfamiliar man.
He reeked of alcohol, mixed with a faint woody scent.
Xia Wanyue was momentarily stunned: “This person is……”
Song Zhi was exhausted. Usually, when his tall frame pressed entirely on her during their moments together, she didn’t feel tired.
But just helping him out of the elevator had already left her breathless.
“Help……me.”
She panted heavily, managing to utter two words.
Xia Wanyue quickly rushed over and helped her carry the drunken Jiang Yan Zhou to the bedroom.
Her apartment had only two rooms. The other room was originally empty, but after Song Zhi arrived, Xia Wanyue had tidied it up for her.
The room Jiang Yan Zhou was lying in now was Song Zhi’s.
Although Xia Wanyue didn’t have much money, years in the entertainment industry had broadened her horizons.
The man’s attire alone was enough to buy her a house in the city center.
He was literally walking hormones and a bank.
Xia Wanyue walked from the left side of the bed to the right, examining Jiang Yan Zhou’s face from all angles.
A face that would surely explode in popularity upon debut—why had she never seen it before?
A vague sense of unease formed in her heart, and she frowned at Song Zhi: “Don’t tell me you’re also starting to follow Xia Chulan’s practice of exploiting newcomers?”
Xia Chulan, relying on her current status in the entertainment industry, often scouted handsome trainees, promising to help them debut, only to slowly lure them into bed.
Many rookie idols fell victim to her schemes.
Song Zhi paused briefly, reminding her: “He’s 27.”
At 27, his external conditions rivaled any popular male artist, yet he was still a trainee.
Xia Wanyue inexplicably felt a sense of pity: “He’s 27 and hasn’t debuted yet. You absolutely cannot deceive him.”
This conversation was becoming increasingly illogical.
Song Zhi helplessly pinched her brow: “He’s my ex-boyfriend, not some trainee.”
Ex-boyfriend?
Xia Wanyue’s brain sluggishly processed this for a moment, then widened her eyes in shock, stuttering: “You mean...you mean...he’s...Jiang Yan Zhou?”
Given Shenhuan Group’s current influence, plus the Jiang family’s status in Beicheng, Jiang Yan Zhou’s name was well-known throughout high society.
However, few people had actually seen him.
For all these years, his photos hadn’t been exposed on any platform, not because the media hadn’t captured them.
They just didn’t dare to publish them.
Xia Wanyue had only heard rumors.
Rumors said he wasn’t particularly handsome, just an average-looking person with the halo of wealth gilding him.
Perhaps due to the warmth of intoxication, Jiang Yan Zhou loosened his tie with discomfort, emitting a low moan.
His slender, fair fingers loosely held one end of the tie, his breathing steadying again.
His movements ceased.
Xia Wanyue asked her: “So, what’s the situation now?”
Song Zhi shrugged: “He’s drunk.”
No matter where he went, he was always treated like royalty.
Song Zhi resigned herself to fate.
In his current state, she couldn’t just throw him out.
After tucking Jiang Yan Zhou in, she went to the kitchen and followed a recipe to cook a bowl of hangover soup.
She brought it to the room and forced Jiang Yan Zhou to drink it.
Fortunately, he was quite obedient after getting drunk, doing whatever Song Zhi told him.
Looking at the empty bottom of the bowl, Song Zhi sank into deep thought.
Moments later, she entered with a handwritten contract, handing a pen to Jiang Yan Zhou and softly coaxing him: “Zhouzhou, be a good boy and sign here.”
At this moment, Song Zhi resembled the evil woman in TV dramas who tricks her terminally ill husband into transferring all his assets to her.
Jiang Yan Zhou didn’t speak, just silently watched her.
Song Zhi smiled gently, pinching his cheek: “Be a good boy, Zhouzhou, or Sister won’t like you anymore.”
He responded indifferently: “Oh.”
Song Zhi: “.”
Shit, even drunk, he’s this cold. Were those fleeting moments of cuteness just an illusion?
Jiang Yan Zhou propped himself up with his left hand on the edge of the bed, leaning closer to her: “Touch me again.”
His smooth, clear voice now carried a hint of intoxication.
It was as if he were coquettishly pleading: “Touch me again, and I’ll sign right away.”
________________________________________
Xia Wanyue was watching TV in the living room, but her ears were perked up, constantly attentive to the sounds from the bedroom.
How long had Song Zhi been in there? She hadn’t come out yet. Could it be...
Xia Wanyue smirked suggestively, thinking naughtily.
Lost in her imagination, the door opened.
Song Zhi handed her an A4 sheet: “The future of your kittens is secured.”
Xia Wanyue curiously took the A4 paper and glanced at it.
It was a handwritten adoption contract, and it covered all of them.
She saw the signature of the adopter at the bottom—Jiang Yan Zhou.
Having taken a cold medicine before bed, by the time she woke up the next morning, her cold had improved significantly.
Song Zhi’s room was given to Jiang Yan Zhou, so she had squeezed in with Xia Wanyue for the night.
Today’s filming was concentrated in the evening, so there was no need to wake up early, but her biological clock was already set.
At seven in the morning, Song Zhi woke up on time.
Unexpectedly, Xia Wanyue was already up earlier than her.
Song Zhi yawned as she emerged from the room, her hair messy from sleep, eyes barely open, already starting to act cute: “Sister Wanyue, can Zizi have a big bowl of milk cereal today?”
She pushed open the door and stepped out, her gaze landing on Jiang Yan Zhou, who was checking the expiration date of the milk.
Upon hearing her voice, he slightly raised his eyebrows, calmly meeting her gaze.
After a few seconds of silence, Song Zhi belatedly remembered that Jiang Yan Zhou was still there.
What’s the most embarrassing?
Being bare-faced, just woken up, disheveled, and bumping into an ex-boyfriend.
Though her external image was ruined, Song Zhi intended to regain some ground with her attitude. She asked rudely: “Why are you still here?”
To her harsh demeanor, Jiang Yan Zhou seemed indifferent.
He double-checked the production date of the milk: “How long has your fridge not been cleaned?”
Caught off guard by the sudden question, Song Zhi, who never cooked, was stunned for a few seconds: “Not long, I guess.”
Since they rarely cooked at home, the ingredients in the fridge were mostly decorative.
Jiang Yan Zhou opened the fridge, pulling everything out piece by piece and tossing it into the trash: “Expired milk, moldy bread, even sprouting potatoes.”
He raised his eyes:
“Thinking of turning your place into an ecological garden?”
His calm tone made Song Zhi’s ears inexplicably turn red.
Due to not cooking and Song Zhi’s diet control, she hadn’t eaten snacks in a long time.
The fridge was almost never opened.
The oversized plastic bag on the countertop was filled with various vegetables and fruits.
The logo on the plastic bag was from the supermarket downstairs.
The sound of flushing came from the bathroom, and Xia Wanyue came out, smelling the aroma of porridge cooking in the pot.
Her admiration for Jiang Yan Zhou skyrocketed.
Handsome, wealthy, and knows how to cook.
What a rare find.
She couldn’t imagine how Song Zhi could let go of such a rare gem, fearing he might be snatched away by someone else.
Song Zhi glanced at Jiang Yan Zhou frying eggs, her patience completely drained: “What do you want?”
Jiang Yan Zhou pondered for a moment: “Cooking for you.”
“Not needed.” She opened the door, issuing an eviction order: “Please leave now.”
Xia Wanyue had never seen Song Zhi so confrontational.
Although she was usually spoiled and had a short temper, she had never acted like this before.
The atmosphere seemed to freeze.
Jiang Yan Zhou gradually stopped his movements, and the fried egg in the pan began to emit a choking burnt smell.
Jiang Yan Zhou lowered his eyelashes, flipping the egg over, and softly said: “I’ll leave after I’m done. I won’t bother you.”
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