Chapter 79: Childish Tricks

After cuddling for half the day, Zhou Jianghao watched Tan Qingya sprawl across her lap like a lazy kitten. She stifled a laugh and couldn’t resist sneaking a pat on her head.

Before her hand could even pull back, Tan Qingya suddenly looked up. “Hm?”

Zhou Jianghao’s hand froze right in front of Tan Qingya’s face.

“Petting my head?” Tan Qingya arched a brow. A hint of displeasure flickered through her drowsy eyes.

She had grown up in a position of power, raised by the Old Madam to the exacting standards of an heir. No one had ever made a habit of patting her head like that. And now this girl had done it?

Her ears quietly turned pink as she put on a stern face. “You’ve got some nerve.”

Just a little girl, and she dared to pat her head?

“My nerve’s pretty small.” Zhou Jianghao balled her hand into a fist and pulled it back, keeping her expression calm. “You said it yourself.”

Tan Qingya burst out laughing. This girl had such a good memory—always throwing her own words right back at her.

Unable to help herself, she reached out and hooked an arm around Zhou Jianghao’s neck, pulling her head down. She brought her lips close, hovering just a breath away, then lifted her gaze. “I also said you’re made of water. Do you agree?”

At those words, Zhou Jianghao glanced sideways at the damp spot on the carpet. She couldn’t quite suppress her smile. “Sister’s the one who’s made of water.”

The motion was too obvious, and Tan Qingya noticed immediately. Her face stiffened in an instant. She’d actually forgotten that today, she’d been the one lying back passively.

A long moment passed before she let out a faint sigh. “I’m just too soft on you.”

It was precisely because she was so soft-hearted—worried that Zhou Jianghao had been worn out from yesterday and not wanting to leave her sore all over—that she’d held back her own desires today. She hadn’t laid a hand on her. And yet the girl had slipped right through the crack to tease her instead.

Seeing the look on her face, Zhou Jianghao felt a twinge of guilt.

“You’re the best to me.” She closed the gap between them completely, pecking at Tan Qingya’s already swollen lips. A pleading glint entered her eyes.

If she teased her too far, she might never again see that beautiful expression Tan Qingya wore at her peak. Missing out on such a sight over a few words would be a terrible loss.

So she leaned in again. “Pet my head, Sister. Go ahead and pet it as much as you want.”

Zhou Jianghao’s fluffy head nuzzled against her collarbone, tickling a little. Tan Qingya couldn’t help but think of Little Beauty.

Little Beauty loved rubbing up against her like this too. Such a fierce dog, yet it adored having its head petted. If you didn’t touch it, that was fine—but once you did, it would climb all over you, tail wagging like a propeller.

She placed her hand on Zhou Jianghao’s head and deliberately ruffled her hair, watching the soft strands turn into a bird’s nest. She nearly lost her battle to hold back her laughter.

The two rested for a short while, but eventually, they had to get up and clean the scene.

When Tan Qingya stood, her legs nearly gave out beneath her, as if she were stepping on cotton. It made her think back to Zhou Jianghao’s fingers.

Somehow, over this stretch of time, Zhou Jianghao’s skills had improved by leaps and bounds. That dark stain on the carpet was proof of just how deeply she’d been immersed moments ago.

Even though her legs felt like jelly, the satisfaction shining in her eyes was impossible to hide.

Tan Qingya had no intention of hiding it.

She nestled into the sofa, silently watching as Zhou Jianghao cleaned everything up. The girl bustled about, obedient as could be in the aftermath—impossible to reconcile with the wicked little minx she’d been just now.

Those fingers had moved so freely, and that pretty little mouth of hers hadn’t held back either, competing to outdo them as if locked in a contest.

She’d even wrapped herself around Tan Qingya, asking which felt better.

Thinking of it, Tan Qingya narrowed her eyes.

Zhou Jianghao was so naughty. She needed to pay her back.

The thought had just formed when she heard Little Beauty’s whines. Tan Qingya looked down, meeting the dog’s clear eyes.

“…”

Oh, right. There was still a dog in the house.

Staring into Little Beauty’s innocent gaze, Tan Qingya breathed a sigh of relief. Thank goodness it hadn’t wandered out just now—running into her sprawled naked on the carpet would’ve been mortifying.

“No more doing that sort of thing anywhere but the bedroom next time,” she said solemnly. “Little Beauty’s home. It wouldn’t be good if the kid caught us.”

Zhou Jianghao, who was stuffing the carpet into the washing machine, turned back with a hesitant look.

It was Tan Qingya who loved doing it outside the most.

She’d already been led by Tan Qingya to unlock several new spots: the bathroom, the living room, the study… The bathroom topped the list, whether it was the vanity or the tub—both were favorites of hers.

Remembering the last time Tan Qingya had lifted her onto the vanity and made her take it sitting there, she turned her head away. A large patch of red bloomed behind her ear.

“Hm?” Tan Qingya misunderstood the gesture. Seeing that she wouldn’t even look at her, she thought the girl was upset. Her tone softened instantly. After a brief internal debate, she changed her mind. “Maybe next time we put Little Beauty in the toy room first. Then we won’t have to worry about the kid walking in. You can pick anywhere you like.”

“How about a milk bath together tonight?”

She remembered Zhou Jianghao quite liked soaking in the tub. Playing stacking games while lounging in the warm, slippery water was always so comfortable—and Zhou Jianghao seemed to enjoy it every time.

“President Tan.” Zhou Jianghao couldn’t hold back. “It’s broad daylight. Let’s not talk about this right now.”

Tan Qingya blinked in surprise. “We just did it. What’s wrong with chatting about it?”

As she spoke, her gaze fell to Zhou Jianghao’s lips. “This little mouth of yours is one way when you’re just yapping away, and a whole other thing when it’s stirring things up inside me.”

Zhou Jianghao had just been about to stand and nearly stumbled over nothing. Tan Qingya… how did Tan Qingya just say that out loud?

She could never win a battle of words with Tan Qingya—instead, she’d just end up blushing like a boiled shrimp. So she fell silent.

With the scene cleaned up, she went back to sorting her things.

Unfortunately, the love letter business wasn’t over yet. As she picked up another small item, she heard Tan Qingya—who was petting the dog—speak up suddenly. “That precious first-love letter of yours is just lying there. Aren’t you afraid it’ll get dirty, damaged, or lost?”

Zhou Jianghao instinctively glanced at the crumpled paper she’d tossed aside, then shot a surprised look at Tan Qingya.

She’d half-expected Tan Qingya to quietly dispose of the so-called love letter while they were tangled up on the carpet. She hadn’t thought it would still be sitting there unscathed.

Tan Qingya kept going. “You should get it framed, right? A first-love letter has such special meaning…”

“My first love is you.”

Tan Qingya’s words cut off abruptly.

She looked at Zhou Jianghao, her heart suddenly pounding out of control in her chest. Forcing down her excitement, she waited for more explanation.

But this girl—whether on purpose or just oblivious to how much Tan Qingya loved hearing words like that—clamped her mouth shut after that one line, refusing to say another word.

“…”

Well, it didn’t dampen the bubbly rush of joy flooding through her.

“Little Doctor Zhou’s first love is me, huh?” She stretched lazily, sauntering over with all the allure in the world to wrap her arms around her. “Then why keep those suitors’ things around?”

“I forgot.” Zhou Jianghao pinched the paper and thought back carefully. Suddenly, it clicked. “Oh, right. It was because of the handwriting.”

“The handwriting?” Tan Qingya froze. She hadn’t expected that answer.

“Yeah.” Zhou Jianghao pointed at the words on the page, perfectly serious. “My handwriting used to be pretty bad, and I didn’t have money for copybooks. So for a long time, I studied other people’s writing.”

If she thought it was nice, she’d approach them, ask permission, and use their style as a model to practice.

Naturally, few people agreed.

It was a pretty forward thing to ask, after all.

Then, by chance, she’d received this love letter. She’d tracked down the sender, turned down her childish request for puppy love, and asked if she could copy her handwriting instead. She’d started practicing from it.

She hadn’t kept at it long before acing the language exam and getting a copybook as a prize from the teacher, who’d caught wind of something or other.

That was what kept her handwriting from ending up too similar to that classmate’s—otherwise, Tan Qingya might’ve gotten jealous again.

She’d only just breathed a sigh of relief when Tan Qingya’s voice came, as if realization had dawned. “Oh, no wonder your handwriting looks so much like the one on there.”

Zhou Jianghao: ???

Hers was standard script; the classmate’s was running script. How were they alike?

After a moment of silence, she decided against overexplaining. Succinctly, she said, “Then write me a love letter, and I’ll copy your handwriting.”

She struck first. “You keep saying you’re pursuing me, but you haven’t even written me one.”

“Even an elementary school kid knows to write a love letter when chasing a girl. How come Sister doesn’t know that? Looks like I need to rethink how sincere you are about me.”

Tan Qingya: “…”

This little girl could really run her mouth when she got going.

“Sister, why aren’t you saying anything?” It was rare to see Tan Qingya at a loss, so Zhou Jianghao pressed her advantage, demanding answers. “Is it because you don’t want to write me a love letter?”

“Childish.” Tan Qingya reached out and poked Zhou Jianghao’s face away as it inched closer. Her expression remained perfectly composed. “Just boring tricks from some kid playing at romance.”

“Hey.” Zhou Jianghao shook her head. “Sister’s just being a sore loser.”

Without batting an eye, Tan Qingya stood. “I’ve got work at the company. I’m heading to the study.”

And with that, she fled.

Zhou Jianghao was genuinely surprised this time. It was just one love letter—Tan Qingya really didn’t want to? She was running away?

She wasn’t truly upset, though. It wasn’t like she absolutely needed that letter.

In the study, Tan Qingya stared seriously at the A4 sheet of paper laid out before her, her gaze somewhat vacant.

What should she write?

She had never written anything like this before. Her mind was completely blank; she couldn’t even think of a single word.

And wasn’t plain A4 paper too casual?

After some thought, she rummaged through the drawers for ages but only turned up a few notebooks still bearing the Tan Corporation logo.

“…”

Such crude paper—how could it possibly suit her first love letter?

She kept rummaging and eventually found a few boxes of watercolor pens bought who-knows-when.

If the paper was too plain, she would just decorate it herself.

Rolling up her sleeves, she got to work, meticulously drawing delicate lace borders around the edges.

As the heir to the Tan Family, she excelled at everything, and drawing was one of her strongest suits. After laboring over it for half an hour, the ordinary A4 paper transformed into something unique and eye-catching.

She then added subtle lines to the blank space in the center, framed by the borders. Tan Qingya nodded in satisfaction.

The illustrations sprang to life on the page, infusing the once-dull sheet with vitality. It looked lovely now—worthy of bearing her first love letter. She picked up a pen to start writing, but after hovering it over the paper for several minutes, she still couldn’t bring herself to make a mark.

“…”

She really should have studied that elementary schooler’s letter more closely to see exactly how it was done.

But heading out now to retrieve it would seem far too suspicious. Tan Qingya let out a faint sigh and stared at the now-beautiful paper with a throbbing headache.

Tan Qingya holed up in the study for the entire day. After lunch, she returned to it with a stern expression on her face.

She didn’t emerge until evening.

“Has something gone terribly wrong at the company?”

Auntie Chen’s heart skipped a beat.

Zhou Jianghao shook her head, though tension gnawed at her own chest. She pulled out her phone and searched for news on Tan Corporation. With no alarming reports in sight, she gradually relaxed.

Tan Qingya had never spent a full day locked away in the study before, and at lunch, her face had been so grave that even while eating, her brows remained tightly furrowed.

A thread of worry wove through Zhou Jianghao’s heart.

She warmed a glass of milk and knocked on the study door. “Sister? I’m coming in.”

She came and went from Tan Qingya’s study all the time, so even as she spoke, her hand was already turning the doorknob. To her surprise, it wouldn’t budge.

Her brows furrowed in disbelief, and she tried again. The resistance was unmistakable—the door had been locked from the inside.

She stood there stunned for a long moment, not snapping out of it until a click echoed from within. The door cracked open from the other side.

Tan Qingya didn’t swing it wide, leaving only a narrow gap. “What is it?”

She clearly had no intention of letting Zhou Jianghao inside.

Zhou Jianghao held out the milk. “I brought you some milk.”

She paused, then voiced her concern. “Did something happen at the company?”

“It’s nothing. Don’t overthink it.” Spotting the worry etched on Zhou Jianghao’s face, Tan Qingya took the glass and gently pinched the furrow between her brows. “The company’s doing great, and I don’t have any major problems. Just relax.”

The words were pure reassurance, yet no sooner had she spoken them than she shut the door again.

Something was definitely wrong.

Had it not been for that comforting reassurance, Zhou Jianghao might have wondered if Tan Qingya was upset with her for goading her into writing the love letter.

“Is the young miss alright?” Auntie Chen whispered.

Zhou Jianghao shook her head. “She says she’s fine.”

After a moment’s thought, she sent Auntie Chen home early. Lately, with all the overtime, Zhou Jianghao had been eating mostly meals cooked by Tan Qingya’s own hand, while rarely stepping into the kitchen herself.

Guilt tugged at her.

She didn’t earn as much as Tan Qingya, yet here she was, making her come home exhausted just to prepare dinner. It didn’t sit right.

So tonight, she resolved to cook herself.

Tan Qingya had always raved about her Red Braised Pork and Kung Pao Chicken.

To avoid repetition, Zhou Jianghao surveyed the fridge and prepared a few more of her signature dishes that she hadn’t made for Tan Qingya before.

The table groaned under the weight of the feast—colorful, aromatic, and utterly tempting.

She was just about to call for Tan Qingya when the study door flew open. Tan Qingya’s voice drifted out. “What’s that smell? It’s so fragrant!”

“Dinner’s ready.”

A smile bloomed unbidden on Zhou Jianghao’s face.

“You made all this?” Tan Qingya’s eyes widened in surprise at the spread. She reached out and tugged Zhou Jianghao closer. “Little Doctor Zhou, it’s rare for you to have a day off—why go to all this trouble?”

With that, she pulled her into a hug and deftly untied the apron from behind.

“Making food you love fills me with satisfaction,” Zhou Jianghao said with a soft smile. “It’s no trouble at all. I enjoy every minute of it.”