Psst! We're moving!
“Can I be made full-time now?”
Outside, the dim night stretched. The hotel’s cleaning service had left behind a lingering berry-scented aroma.
Yu Qian and Cheng Xiaonan were still wearing their thick winter coats. The stiff fabric of their down jackets rustled, making soft sounds in the quiet room.
Cheng Xiaonan’s kiss was unexpectedly gentle.
Many things, he had only figured out today, after his conversation with Han Chu.
Back then, when Yu Qian left the country, Cheng Xiaonan, as the one who was suddenly dumped, was not only extremely disheartened and lost, but also equally confused.
At that time, his understanding of Yu Qian was limited to the temperament and personality she displayed when she was with him.
He knew nothing about Yu Qian’s social circle or past experiences.
In his conjectures about their breakup, the honor student named Han Chu was key.
Even with his pride back then, Cheng Xiaonan couldn’t help but wonder if, perhaps, when he met Yu Qian, she had just had a big fight with her honor student boyfriend, and so he had been a rebound during that period.
It was possible that Yu Qian and Han Chu had reconciled, and she had followed him abroad to study.
Later, he unexpectedly met Yu Qian’s mother at his own home. To hear about Yu Qian, he exceptionally joined Old Cheng and the others for a meal.
During the meal, he subtly steered the conversation, always circling back to Yu Qian.
Perhaps his undisguised gaze was too direct. Yu Qian’s mother looked over suspiciously from across the table full of dishes. Cheng Xiaonan met her gaze calmly.
Old Cheng was completely in the dark that day but also sensed that Cheng Xiaonan seemed particularly concerned about the girl named Yu Qian.
Old Cheng understood his own son well and casually asked Qu Liwen, “Is your daughter about the same age as Nan Nan? How about calling her over for a meal sometime?”
Qu Liwen sometimes smiled much like Yu Qian, her smile faint: “She’s not in the country right now. She had a fight with her boyfriend and went abroad.”
“Oh? She has a boyfriend?”
“Yes, the boy next door when she was little. He was very good in school, studying at XX University, a very excellent boy. It’s just Qianqian being childish and arguing with him. The children are grown now; I can’t control everything. Let them be.”
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For the latter half of the meal, Cheng Xiaonan was always distracted. Even when the auntie at home brought out his favorite fermented bean curd duck, he didn’t pick up his chopsticks.
At that time, he thought, “Oh, so that’s how it is.”
But there were always lingering doubts. He felt that Yu Qian’s unhappiness wasn’t as simple as just “arguing with her boyfriend” as Qu Liwen said.
He began to search online using the information he extracted from Qu Liwen’s words—he found her school, her experiences, but he could never piece together why she suddenly went abroad.
She might have wanted to develop her career abroad, but why did she leave so suddenly?
And why did she delete his contact information?
After knowing Qu Liwen was Yu Qian’s mother, Cheng Xiaonan wondered if perhaps Yu Qian went abroad because of him?
Because she saw Qu Liwen’s signature on his exam paper, she thought he was mocking her? And left the country in anger?
Later, Cheng Xiaonan thought, without much conviction, that it probably wasn’t that. Maybe she really left because of Han Chu.
Like he said, that old blue lighter was his only confidence.
And he was always unsure how much Yu Qian truly liked him.
But today, after his first conversation with Han Chu.
Cheng Xiaonan suddenly realized that Yu Qian would never fall for Han Chu, that selfish, hypocritical, and self-righteous man.
He had misunderstood. In Yu Qian’s life over so many years, Han Chu hadn’t played the role of a deeply affectionate, scholarly boyfriend, nor a gentle next-door older brother who took care of her since childhood.
Instead, he was the last straw that broke her back.
After all other possibilities were ruled out, only one remained.
This possibility made Cheng Xiaonan himself feel “chilled to the bone”:
Yu Qian loved him.
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Cheng Xiaonan didn’t stop the kiss. He pulled open his down jacket, took it off, his lips never leaving Yu Qian’s as he moved.
Amidst the rubbing of their lips, Cheng Xiaonan helped Yu Qian take off her down jacket. His hand on her waist, he paused and asked her, “Jiejie, promote me to full-time. You love me, don’t you?”
They stood in the dimly lit entryway. Outside the window, tree branches swayed quietly in the wind.
Yu Qian opened her eyes, meeting Cheng Xiaonan’s gaze. She didn’t answer, but after a few seconds, she suddenly tugged at Cheng Xiaonan’s shirt collar. He was unprepared and was abruptly pulled forward, his back arching.
The next moment, Yu Qian initiated a kiss.
Cheng Xiaonan’s eyes paused slightly, laden with intimacy and tenderness, as if to say, “This time, the French kiss was your initiative.”
As the kiss deepened, he picked up Yu Qian, stumbled over their down jackets piled on the floor, and fell onto the sofa.
The beige leather two-seater narrow sofa, bearing the sudden weight of two people, protested from its material to its frame, creaking.
Yu Qian’s phone on the coffee table kept vibrating. Cheng Xiaonan was bitten hard on the lip by her. For a moment, he couldn’t find his footing and fell off the sofa.
He hissed, decided not to get up, and just sat on the floor, catching his breath. In the end, he gestured silently to Yu Qian, who was answering the phone, accusing her with his mouth: “You’re the one who wanted a French kiss this time, why did you bite me again?”
The call was from Peter, reminding Yu Qian to pick him up. He heard the temperature in Imperial City had dropped and didn’t want to wait foolishly alone at the airport.
Hanging up the phone, Cheng Xiaonan reached out and poked Yu Qian’s side, his eyes full of playful pleasure, asking her, “I’ve received your passion, but can you answer my question? You love me, right?”
Yu Qian was unusually shy about the word “love.”
In her 28 years, she had never said “love” to anyone, so after a few seconds of contemplation, she avoided it, saying, “It’s liking.”
“Liking me for seven or eight years?”
Outside the window, a full moon was half-hidden in the clouds. Yu Qian’s eyes held a faint, serene expression.
That was her protective coloration. No matter how emotionally stirred she was, she would maintain that expression.
Cheng Xiaonan initially thought Yu Qian wouldn’t respond to his playful tone, but after her thoughts were laid bare, she attempted to be honest: “Before going abroad, I was indeed drawn to you. I didn’t think about these things during my time abroad. It’s something that happened after returning to China.”
Yu Qian tried to strip away the difficult-to-express affection, leaving only more official sentences, but Cheng Xiaonan still grasped the underlying meaning, interpreting her detached words as terms of endearment.
He leaned back by the sofa, smiling, and summarized for her: “So that means, both times you were moved and liked someone, it was me?”
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Faced with his blatant smugness, Yu Qian stopped paying attention to him.
Cheng Xiaonan didn’t get carried away with his triumph. As he got up, he leaned in and planted a loud kiss on Yu Qian’s cheek. The moment she glared at him, he flashed his innocent dimples: “Hungry? I saw you had instant noodles in your kitchen last night. Want to cook two packs and eat them together?”
Actually, ordering room service wouldn’t have been out of the question, but after eating hotel food for a long time, it started to feel a bit tiresome.
Moreover, at a time like this, cooking themselves seemed more intimate.
Cheng Xiaonan grabbed a few packs of instant pasta, planning to ask Yu Qian what flavor she wanted.
He turned around, and Yu Qian was leaning against the kitchen doorway, watching him.
“Can’t bear to be without me? Following me even when I’m just cooking noodles?”
“Afraid you’ll spill water all over yourself,” Yu Qian said softly.
Spilling water all over himself was something Cheng Xiaonan had done seven years ago.
“You remember clearly, huh? Secretly caring about me?”
Cheng Xiaonan shook a box of pasta in his hand, asking, “Red wine sausage or creamy bacon?”
“Red wine sausage.”
Cheng Xiaonan nodded, took two packs of red wine sausage pasta, and set them aside to cook.
He put the remaining packs of noodles back into the cupboard.
Noticing the spicy meatball flavor being put back, as if confirming his words, Yu Qian suddenly asked, “Don’t you like spicy food?”
Cheng Xiaonan walked over and stood in front of Yu Qian. He pointed to his lips and deliberately said, “You bit them open. Wouldn’t it be better not to eat spicy food?”
Perhaps to redeem himself, Cheng Xiaonan didn’t make a fool of himself in the kitchen this time. His movements were surprisingly skilled, and he cooked the pasta to a perfect consistency.
He brought the noodles to the dining table and pulled out a chair for Yu Qian.
Yu Qian didn’t have a large appetite, only eating half a portion. Cheng Xiaonan took the remaining half and finished it elegantly.
While eating, Cheng Xiaonan suddenly took out his phone and showed Yu Qian a photo: “I found this on foreign websites. Did you really shave your head bald? Or was it just makeup? This one looks very realistic.”
The photo showed Yu Qian, candidly taken, wearing a simple black dress, bald, yet still looking beautiful.
She glanced at the photo and said she really had shaved it.
Yu Qian put down her chopsticks and lightly wiped her lips with a tissue: “Have you heard the rumor that Peter and I have an illegitimate child?”
“I’ve heard a little.”
Actually, it was a sick child. One time, Yu Qian and her team were on a shoot near a hospital, and a child secretly ran out. Police cars and parents were searching everywhere.
Later, Yu Qian overheard that the child was hiding in the woods where they were doing an outdoor shoot.
Yu Qian’s assistant at the time told her it was a little girl with a disease who had run away from the hospital, refusing chemotherapy. When she returned, she was crying, saying she was afraid of becoming bald.
The little girl was only 13, at an age where she cared about her appearance.
While hiding outdoors, she had even secretly taken a curling iron from the outdoor makeup table, which was how the staff discovered her.
Yu Qian visited the sick child a few times and became more familiar with the girl’s family. One time, she even took her back to the apartment she shared with Peter.
The girl said she envied Yu Qian’s thick hair. Yu Qian said she preferred her bald head, finding it less troublesome when washing her hair.
The girl laughed, calling her a liar. Later, Peter returned and, in front of the little girl, shaved Yu Qian’s head bald.
They even took a photo together.
In Yu Qian’s eyes, a head full of thick hair was not as important as comforting a sick girl.
But less than a year later, the girl passed away.
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Cheng Xiaonan, hearing this, didn’t know what he was thinking, his tone heavy: “Hmm, all those ‘chicken soup for the soul’ stories are lies. People who are sick rarely get miraculously better.”
Yu Qian probably guessed Cheng Xiaonan was thinking of his mother.
She intentionally tried to interrupt his sadness, kicking his chair leg twice with her foot, and asked, “Dinner’s done. When are you going back to your room?”
“Don’t want to go back.”
Cheng Xiaonan looked up: “Can I stay tonight?”