Zhao Qingyu revealed a rare soft side, quietly watching him and patiently waiting for his answer.
Her dark eyes in that moment resembled the starry sky visible overhead from a lounge chair at midnight, or a scattering of salt under moonlight, stretching out across the serene darkness.
Even the most cold and aloof features harbored a gentle side, one that seemed all the more precious precisely because it was so seldom seen.
This was probably the first time Shen An had witnessed Zhao Qingyu with her foxy slyness reined in.
She was breathtakingly beautiful, her tenderness rendering him speechless.
And so, he couldn’t help but freeze.
Under her gaze, he found himself involuntarily captivated by the gentle ripples in her expression.
The corners of Zhao Qingyu’s lips curved up bit by bit, her smile gradually blooming. “Is this question that hard to answer?”
Shen An averted his eyes, staring at the ceiling. “I think it should be you taking care of me, right? Senior Sister.”
“Hah? Nice try.” Zhao Qingyu pursed her lips slightly. “You’re a few months older than me, clearly.”
“Uh…”
Shen An paused, hesitating for a moment before turning back to meet her eyes. “Do you want to hear the truth?”
“You say it, and I’ll listen.”
Zhao Qingyu couldn’t help softening her voice, making it melt into his bones.
“The truth is… I really want to take care of you too, if I could.” Shen An smiled faintly. “But I’m afraid that’d just be me talking big.”
“I’m also afraid you’d laugh at me for talking big.”
“How could I?”
A flicker of daze passed through Zhao Qingyu’s eyes as she murmured, “Of all things in the world, only feelings can’t be measured.”
“In that case, let me revise my answer from before.” A sly smile tugged at Shen An’s lips. “I’ll take care of you. I’ll take really good care of you.”
Pfft.
Zhao Qingyu let out a light laugh, raising her small hand to prop up her chin. “Then I’ll hold you to that. No take-backs.”
“Want to pinky promise?”
Shen An rolled onto his side and extended his finger.
“No way.” Zhao Qingyu wrinkled her nose in distaste. “Only kids do pinky promises. Don’t be so childish.”
“I’m just afraid you won’t believe me.”
Shen An said earnestly.
“I will. My memory might not be great, but I’ll never forget a promise.” Zhao Qingyu met his gaze with equal seriousness.
“Alright then, it’s settled?”
Shen An’s smile shone brightly, but Zhao Qingyu seemed a bit evasive, her own smile carrying a hint of reluctance.
Pinky promise…
A pinky promise seals the deal.
Zhao Qingyu slowly sat up. “Then start fulfilling that promise now.”
Shen An blinked. “Huh?”
“Huh what? Get up. I’m going shopping.”
Zhao Qingyu clasped her hands behind her back, that foxy slyness sparkling across her face once more.
Shen An raised an eyebrow, sensing something ominous.
And soon enough, his premonition proved correct—followed by deep regret.
Dressed and ready to go, Zhao Qingyu moved with swift efficiency, dragging Shen An straight to the nearest big mall without a moment’s delay. Then, most thoughtfully, she made him live up to his so-called promise of “taking care of her”—by turning him into her personal “manservant.”
As the saying goes, accompanying a woman shopping is ordeal enough on its own, let alone when you have to carry all the bags too.
Essentially, Zhao Qingyu handled the buying up front, while Shen An trailed behind, saddled with the hauling.
Before long, her purchases piled up bag after bag, commandeering every ounce of his manpower.
He was just short of slinging one from his neck.
Yet Shen An showed not a trace of complaint. Just as he hated it when people nagged about how useless games were while he played, he knew better than to gripe while accompanying a woman shopping.
Girls’ hearts were delicate by nature, especially attuned to the details of a guy’s attitude.
And what was this, if not the details?
No matter how impulsive or willful Zhao Qingyu could be, she was still a girl.
For girls, the ultimate weapon was boundless tolerance and understanding.
So he never griped about her being spendthrift, snapping up a bunch of things she clearly wouldn’t use often.
Nor did he ever rush her from start to finish, letting her indulge her shopping urges without restraint.
His willing endurance, ironically, started to make Zhao Qingyu feel a twinge of guilt.
How to put it?
Her feelings toward Shen An were complicated now.
From Xu Yijing’s mouth, she’d confirmed he wasn’t a spy. But that sparked another question: if he wasn’t Xu Yijing’s spy, could he be Zhao Li’s?
She had no answer, and for some reason, she hadn’t just come out and asked him.
So when she woke from her nap and left the room, her goal had been clear: mold Shen An into her own spy, use him to advance her plans, and strike at Xu Yijing from afar.
But after their gaming session, that clarity began to waver.
What truly shook her was those words from Shen An, lying unguarded on the floor: “I’ll take care of you. I’ll take really good care of you.”
She… she’d actually been deliberately leading him on.
Even the tenderness she’d shown was laced with ulterior motives.
Because she wanted him working for her.
But…
His sincerity kept pricking at Zhao Qingyu, relentlessly.
Xu Yijing had said she was no different from her.
She’d always resisted admitting it.
But what she was doing now—how was it any different?
She was trying to use someone. Someone who trusted her.
She was exploiting his trust.
So she dodged, retreated, grew uneasy.
Out of fierce pride, she refused to admit her own hypocrisy.
She found another escape route, another excuse for herself: Shen An couldn’t possibly mean it sincerely.
He… he must have some other agenda.
Right—he definitely had some other demand.
Zhao Qingyu’s thinking shifted once more.
From trying to use him, to testing his sincerity—or rather, proving her suspicions right, that he had demands and wasn’t so pure.
And so, she launched this petty, vengeful shopping spree.
Shen An thought the pile of stuff she’d bought was mostly useless, and truthfully, so did she.
She just wanted to wear him down, test his attitude, gauge his patience under pressure.
But his response was utterly consistent.
He wasn’t even mad.
Not only not mad—he didn’t complain once, patiently sticking by her side no matter what she wanted to buy.
This…
This only further rattled Zhao Qingyu’s heart.
Reason and emotion teetered on the scales, clashing and intertwining endlessly.
Reason told her she couldn’t believe Shen An had no ulterior motives—he had to be after something.
Emotion pointed to his every genuine action: was she… being too much again?
After another loop around the mall, Zhao Qingyu glanced at the heavy bags weighing down his hands and suddenly stopped. In a low voice, she asked, “Tired?”
Shen An, struggling a bit under the load, still managed a joke. “Not tired, but I can only handle three more outfits.”
“Hmph, see? You are tired.”
Zhao Qingyu narrowed her eyes and turned. “Follow me.”
Shen An’s mouth twitched slightly.
Fine.
He adjusted the bags and trailed after her.
He figured she’d spotted something else to buy, but instead, Zhao Qingyu led him back to the checkout counter.
“Take these back for me.”
She pulled out a card and spoke softly to the attendant.
Then, at her direction, a baffled Shen An set down the bags one by one in the designated spot.
“Feeling lighter now?”
Zhao Qingyu teased as she watched him rub his wrists.
“You’re not about to tell me this mall belongs to your family too, are you?” Shen An admitted he was a little worn out after lugging them around so long.
His hands were red where the straps had dug in.
Zhao Qingyu smiled faintly. “Not yet, but it will soon.”
Her casual words revealed volumes.
Shen An was speechless, silently giving her a thumbs-up. This was peak rich girl energy.
