Zhao Qiyan's black sports car had barely stopped when he spotted Ruan Jing emerging from the café. He immediately pulled the door open and stepped out, slowing his pace as he approached. "Leaving already?"
Ruan Jing turned around. "Hi." She pivoted gracefully toward him. "I thought I'd miss you again today."
"Why didn't you call me?"
"I'm not in the habit of making people wait." Her smile conveyed her philosophy clearly.
Qiyan had been about to say I wouldn't mind waiting for you, but such words felt too sentimental, so he only offered gently, "Since we've run into each other, why not come in and sit for a while?"
"I can't." Ruan Jing raised her wrist to check her watch. "I snuck out. In about ten minutes, Chen Fan will probably materialize in my office demanding the exhibition schedule."
Qiyan shook his head with a smile. "I really shouldn't have recommended you for this job."
"No, thank you." Ruan Jing smiled back. "This little woman is both competent and happy." It was a rare job that filled her with such genuine excitement.
"In that case, shouldn't I receive a finder's fee for my discerning eye?"
Ruan Jing considered this. "I haven't gotten my first paycheck yet."
Qiyan smiled. "That's fine. I can wait."
Ruan Jing understood he was merely teasing. Remembering something important, she lowered her head, retrieved an admission ticket from her bag, and extended it toward him.
"Sand and stone painting exhibition, one o'clock Saturday afternoon. Would you be interested in coming?"
"If I have time, I'll stop by." Zhao Qiyan reached out to accept it, and their fingers brushed accidentally. Qiyan felt his fingertips tremble as though electrified.
"If you come, I'll definitely wait at the gate for you." Ruan Jing glanced at her watch—she couldn't linger any longer. She was about to bid Qiyan farewell when he reached out and gently caught her arm. His other hand moved to smooth her shoulder-length hair, then carefully tucked a few strands of black silk behind her ear. Imperceptible tenderness flickered in his deep eyes. By the time Ruan Jing registered his movements, Qiyan had already withdrawn with practiced subtlety.
"You had confetti in your hair."
Ruan Jing noticed a small piece of white paper in his palm. "Oh, thank you." She reflexively touched the hair behind her ear.
"Would you like me to drive you?"
After Zhao Qiyan's reminder, Ruan Jing silently groaned—she was cutting it close. Without further delay, she waved at him and had already taken off running.
Qiyan watched Ruan Jing's retreating figure and couldn't suppress a wry smile. Those hidden impulses always surfaced at the most inopportune moments. Only now did he realize how fragile his self-control truly was. As long as she was within reach, all his willpower shattered easily. Zhao Qiyan, who had always navigated romantic entanglements with ease, found himself reduced to seeking comfort in small, humble gestures.
During the period since returning to N City, Ruan Jing hadn't attended any school functions under the Ruan family name. First, she had no official standing—attending would be inexplicable. Second, she genuinely wanted to avoid contact with "her" enterprise. This kind of nepotism made her uncomfortable.
The only reason she came this time was that Ruan Xian had used her half-naked photos as leverage. If she didn't attend, who knew what would happen? Extremely obscene. Ruan Jing gritted her teeth, unable to help regretting why she'd developed the habit of sleeping naked in the first place.
At the university admissions preview meeting, accompanied by Jiang Yan, Ruan Jing participated in an internal school meeting for the first time.
Though she'd been coerced into attending, Ruan Jing's demeanor remained gentle and forthright throughout. Even without speaking a single word during the entire meeting, her attentive attitude allowed her to pass muster smoothly. When the meeting adjourned at noon, she planned to tidy up and return to the gallery. Jiang Yan, seated beside her, observed her thoughtfully before suddenly speaking. "If you're not in a rush, shall we have lunch together?"
Ruan Jing's hands stilled. After two seconds, she turned and smiled. "I have something to take care of. I'm sorry—perhaps next time."
This was the first time she'd declined Jiang Yan's invitation, and also the first time he'd extended one. He must think her ungrateful. Walking out of the conference room, Ruan Jing couldn't help sighing. She didn't want to make things awkward for either party. Clearly Jiang Yan didn't genuinely want to dine with her—they had nothing to say at home, let alone alone together. Besides, she did have matters to attend to.
The busiest phase is always preparation, so by the day of the sand and stone painting exhibition, Ruan Jing found herself relatively free. Her primary task now was simply hosting guests. Leading several business associates toward the right wing, she immediately spotted Zhao Qiyan in the exhibition corridor, standing before a sunset landscape.
It was rather difficult to overlook this man. Some people possessed the quality of effortlessly commanding attention and respect. Zhao Qiyan belonged to this category, though Ruan Jing only recognized this belatedly.
Walking toward his elegant silhouette, she asked, "When did you arrive?"
Zhao Qiyan turned, and seeing Ruan Jing, couldn't help smiling. "A while ago. Busy?"
"Not particularly."
"In that case, will you walk with me?"
Ruan Jing readily agreed.
"The exhibition seems quite successful. You should ask your boss for a raise." Qiyan observed the substantial crowd in the gallery.
"It really is going well. I'm thinking the same thing."
Zhao Qiyan smiled and stopped before a portrait. "The realism of sand and stone paintings rivals oil paintings."
Ruan Jing nodded in wholehearted agreement. "Chinese art is profoundly extensive. So many aspects feel almost magical."
Qiyan turned his head slightly, looked at Ruan Jing, and suddenly remarked, "I've already placed an order for that painting."
It didn't feel abrupt. Ruan Jing knew instantly which one he meant. "That master's work is quite exceptional. Worth considerable money."
Qiyan's mouth twitched slightly without further comment, and he turned to continue appreciating the artwork.
"Will you be attending the 'celebration party' afterward?"
"Chen Fan mentioned it to me. I'm afraid I can't make it." Qiyan glanced at her. "What about you?"
Ruan Jing looked pained. "Absolutely cannot go. Boss Chen conscripted me to serve drinks."
"Ah, my condolences."
Sometimes, Ruan Jing thought Zhao Qiyan possessed zero sympathy whatsoever.
During the celebration, Ruan Jing genuinely picked up a tray and played waitress. Zhao Qiyan had been conversing with several acquaintances throughout. Ruan Jing observed that while Zhao Qiyan drank with elegance, he seemed to have no limit. She'd originally wanted to approach and caution him, but what waitress would presume to tell a clearly distinguished gentleman to "drink less"? It would be completely inappropriate.
After dinner concluded, Ruan Jing emerged from the changing room in her regular clothes when Chen Fan intercepted her. "Director Ruan, help deliver this check to Qiyan."
"That's rather excessive, Boss Chen. Why don't you give it to him yourself?"
Chen Fan gestured meaningfully. "See? Swamped with business." After speaking, he'd already picked up his phone and walked away. Two steps later, he remembered to turn back and add, "Qiyan left half an hour ago. He's probably at the shop by now."
Reduced to errand girl once again, Ruan Jing drove to the café. Looking around and seeing no one, she asked a server and was told Mr. Zhao might be sobering up in the lounge.
Ruan Jing couldn't help sighing. No matter how impressive one's tolerance, drinking wine like water wasn't advisable. When she pushed the door open, she found Zhao Qiyan sitting on the floor, back against the bed's edge, right hand holding a damp towel pressed over his eyes.
Zhao Qiyan, seemingly sensing her presence, raised his head. He appeared mildly surprised by his visitor.
"Your alcohol tolerance is surprisingly formidable."
Qiyan's mouth curved slightly. "What brings you here?"
"Delivering payment." Ruan Jing walked over and extended the check.
Zhao Qiyan merely glanced at it. Seeing his languid state, Ruan Jing set the check on the bed and sat down. "Watching you accept drink after drink earlier, I assumed you'd be unconscious by now. Apparently I underestimated your capacity."
"Excessive drinking isn't necessarily beneficial." His leg was bent, his right hand resting on his knee, his head tilted back slightly. Clear water on his face slowly traced down along his well-defined features, passing over his collarbone, his provocatively exposed chest, finally disappearing beneath his shirt.
Ruan Jing took the towel from his hand and unconsciously began wiping the water from his face.
Zhao Qiyan's eyes flew open instantly. He saw Ruan Jing mere inches away, then felt the cotton towel carrying her particular warmth pass over his eyelids and lips... The temperature was like fire, scorching his skin—or perhaps igniting something even deeper in his blood. Qiyan closed his eyes forcefully. He didn't know whether this hazy sensation stemmed from alcohol or something else entirely, but two bottles of whiskey shouldn't have rendered him incoherent...
Qiyan slowly captured her hand. Alcohol always provided such a convenient excuse, didn't it? It could attribute all irrational behavior to unconsciousness, making presumptuousness forgivable. So could he use this as cover for his audacity now...?
After a prolonged silence, Qiyan heard himself speak. "Ruan Jing, come take a walk with me."
This was the second time he'd made such a request today, but the mood differed vastly between occasions. He had to admire his own restraint.
Ruan Jing blinked. "Are you certain?" Going for a walk at this hour?
"Come on, pull me up." Qiyan extended his hand expectantly.
Feeling the excessive heat of his palm against hers, Ruan Jing startled involuntarily. Looking at that face radiating mature masculinity, she realized she didn't truly know Zhao Qiyan at all. Most of the time he seemed profound and serene, but occasionally displayed something... indefinable.
"Aren't we leaving?" Instead, Qiyan prompted her.
"Oh, sorry. Let's go." Ruan Jing noticed Zhao Qiyan still held her hand and was about to ask him to release it when his grip tightened further. Ruan Jing faintly sensed that Zhao Qiyan was testing some boundary with her.
"You don't mind accompanying me somewhere." A declarative statement, not a question.
Midnight Bar—this was where Zhao Qiyan brought her. Honestly, Ruan Jing hadn't witnessed many aspects of Zhao Qiyan. His familiarity with recreational venues far exceeded her imagination. The moment Zhao Qiyan entered the bar, people approached to greet him—clearly someone who navigated such romantic establishments with effortless ease.
They walked to the bar and settled onto stools. Qiyan ordered fruit wine for her and iced whiskey for himself.
On the central stage, a glamorously dressed female singer performed with abandon while numerous patrons on the dance floor swayed their bodies uninhibitedly to the rhythm. Just as Ruan Jing was questioning whether she belonged in such a place, Qiyan offered her a slight smile—humble and reassuring in equal measure.
"Hey, Qiyan, it's been ages." This man was dressed like a Beatle, perspiration-soaked, guitar in hand—clearly a musician fresh from performing.
Seeing the arrival, Zhao Qiyan smiled. "Running yourself ragged lately?"
The visitor raked through his hair. "Three gigs. It's genuinely inhuman."
Zhao Qiyan smiled. "If you're exhausted, don't push yourself so hard."
"Easier said than done. Oh, by the way, KK's been waiting for you all week. She says if you don't show up, she'll refuse to perform. No matter how busy you are, you need to make time to boost morale." Several years ago, Zhao Qiyan had played music with them briefly—he'd majored in composition, occasionally sang, and they'd always admired his presence: sharp and resolute.
Glancing sideways, he noticed Ruan Jing beside Qiyan and asked with surprise, "Girlfriend?"
Zhao Qiyan smiled and demurred. Ruan Jing had been about to answer negatively as well, but ultimately decided it didn't matter.
The guitarist observed the pair before him, some peculiar recognition flashing through his mind. Zhao Qiyan wore a crisp white shirt beneath a dark open jacket, Prada black slacks projecting refined, mature masculinity. The woman beside him wore casual dark sportswear, her posture relaxed and chic, her right foot casually propped on Zhao Qiyan's bench rung, a gentle smile playing at her lips. These two... possessed an inexplicably harmonious quality.
KK will probably lose her mind when she sees this, was the guitarist's final assessment.
"Want to go up and sing something?"
Qiyan considered briefly, then turned to Ruan Jing. "Would you like to hear me?"
Ruan Jing smiled and nodded. "I suspect the numerous unknowns about you will eventually teach me to remain perpetually unsurprised."
Qiyan reached out and gently touched her cheek. "Don't worry. You have ample time to explore gradually."
Ruan Jing froze momentarily, but Qiyan had already walked away.
The night felt unusually refreshing. Honestly, listening to Zhao Qiyan sing was genuinely pleasurable. His sensuous voice carried captivating allure. She watched people screaming enthusiastically—they might not know him personally, but his voice had instantly elevated him to idol status in their minds. Not an exaggeration whatsoever. He'd gained at least twenty instant fans.
When Zhao Qiyan descended from the stage, Ruan Jing saw a fashionably dressed woman rush over and embrace him. He smiled and lowered his head to speak briefly with her. The beautiful girl then reluctantly ascended to take over lead vocals, beginning "Take a Bow."
Ruan Jing watched the man approaching her and couldn't suppress her amusement.
"Why are you looking at me like that?" Zhao Qiyan picked up his whiskey and took a sip. He'd removed his jacket, his white shirt now unbuttoned several buttons lower, his hair slightly disheveled. His entire demeanor radiated a certain unrestrained quality.
"Admiring your magnetic appeal."
Qiyan chuckled softly and turned toward the stage. His current state felt somewhat relaxed and stimulated. If he wasn't careful, the thoughts he'd previously contained would breach their barriers. He needed to exercise caution...
Ruan Jing, seated beside him, glanced his way, then looked again more carefully. Finally she reached out to brush his collarbone. Qiyan's grip on his glass stiffened, his heart trembling slightly.
"There's a lipstick mark." Ruan Jing pointed out matter-of-factly.
His dark eyes slowly refocused on Ruan Jing—the person before him couldn't be simpler, without excessive emotion or calculated seduction. Yet she made his entire body react instantly from one uncomplicated gesture. Zhao Qiyan genuinely lamented his predicament. It wasn't that he hadn't encountered women more exceptional than her before, but something about Ruan Jing perfectly aligned with all his erotic triggers. Qiyan couldn't control himself at all. He leaned down—the slightest contact, lips meeting lips...
When Ruan Jing realized what was happening, the masculine presence had already withdrawn.
"Thank you."
Several beats later, Ruan Jing processed what Zhao Qiyan had said and remained stunned for a long moment before nodding inexplicably. "You're welcome."
Later, Ruan Jing reflected that he should have been thanking her for wiping away the lipstick mark on his neck—hence the thanks. But did such things warrant gratitude via kiss?
Qiyan had already averted his gaze. This feather-light kiss represented the utmost restraint he'd ever exercised in his life—so constrained that his chest felt suffocatingly compressed with no outlet for release.
Neither spoke again. Qiyan felt somewhat apprehensive. He didn't know what Ruan Jing thought about his transgression just moments ago.
In fact, from this day forward, Ruan Jing's impression of Zhao Qiyan transformed from "mild-mannered" to "impossible to read."
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