Chapter 22: No Need to Unwrap the Gift So Early Part 1

Mu Shanyi’s glance was extremely brief.

“What do you mean?” Her gaze returned to Miao Zhu’s face, showing no sign of being swayed.

The hint had been so obvious—what else could it mean? Mu Shanyi was clearly doing it on purpose.

…It wasn’t Mu Shanyi’s fault, Miao Zhu reflected. It was probably because her own sincerity hadn’t been conveyed properly.

The fabric brushed against the leather seat as Miao Zhu shifted very close to Mu Shanyi. She knelt on one knee, her palms pressing against the backrest, facing Mu Shanyi as she settled onto her lap.

Miao Zhu thought Mu Shanyi would like this position—after all, Mu Shanyi had requested it that way on the Sea Island. However, before both knees could settle, Mu Shanyi gripped her waist with one hand and pressed her thigh with the other. In a swift turn, she pinned Miao Zhu back onto the seat.

“Talk properly.” Mu Shanyi sounded somewhat impatient, and the box of finger cots slid onto the seat.

That night on the Sea Island, Mu Shanyi’s enthusiasm and interest in her were still vivid in Miao Zhu’s mind. But the current Mu Shanyi created a huge psychological gap for her; she even felt a sense of self-humiliation—as if Mu Shanyi’s casual play had given her the illusion, when in reality, Mu Shanyi remained just as unattainable.

Miao Zhu turned her face away, avoiding Mu Shanyi’s gaze, but coaxing words slipped from her lips: “…From now on, when I’m with you, I’ll focus solely on you and try not to contact anyone else.”

“Rude.” Mu Shanyi reached out, pinched her face, and turned her head back, forcing her to make eye contact. “Where are your conversation manners?”

“…” Though she had ulterior motives, Miao Zhu was genuinely feeling guilty about Mu Shanyi’s displeasure. Yet Mu Shanyi dismissed it and fixated on conversation etiquette?

Miao Zhu’s eyes grew hot: “What manners? You’re ignoring me.”

Her voice carried a sob, and Mu Shanyi frowned. “I’m ignoring you?”

Miao Zhu: “You’re mad at me!”

Having known Miao Zhu for so many years, it was the first time Mu Shanyi saw her display such emotions—like a little cat bluffing, her tantrum full of pitiful grievance.

“I’m not mad at you.” Mu Shanyi explained, her tone softening as her fingertip brushed under Miao Zhu’s eye, coming away damp.

“I’m just… not used to it yet.” They both knew that Miao Zhu’s “not contacting anyone” referred to not contacting Xingran. Mu Shanyi admitted that negative emotions had gotten to her. After a long silence, she continued, “But that’s my own lesson to overcome. You don’t need to worry about it—I have no demands on you.”

What touching words, even if they were fake.

Miao Zhu sniffled: “…I have demands on myself. I’ll keep my promise; I mean what I say.”

“You’re coaxing me?” Mu Shanyi wiped her tears again. “I’ve never seen someone coax while crying.”

The air conditioning circulated in the car, and the low pressure had dissipated with the conversation.

Mu Shanyi’s gaze deepened, laced with amusement. Miao Zhu felt embarrassed under her stare and mumbled: “…I’m afraid you’ll be unhappy with me. I just want you to be happy.”

Her fair neck bowed, her hair slightly disheveled, and her skirt had hiked up during the movement, revealing a pair of slender, pale legs.

“Seeing you does make me happy.” Mu Shanyi smoothed down Miao Zhu’s skirt, her fingertips lingering on the warm skin before meeting her eyes. “What about you? Are you happy with me?”

“Of course.” The thrill from seeing Mu Shanyi’s navigation screenshot had been genuine.

Miao Zhu answered without hesitation, their gazes entwining. A few seconds later, Mu Shanyi nodded. “I think I need to correct one thing.”

Miao Zhu responded: “Hm?”

“It’s not that I have no demands on you.” Mu Shanyi seemed to weigh her words. “At least once a week—does that work?”

Miao Zhu: “…”

At least once a week?

Miao Zhu didn’t respond right away, so Mu Shanyi asked: “Too difficult?”

“No… I usually have a curfew, so it’s hard to stay out overnight.” Miao Zhu thought of her upcoming trip to Southern France with Sheng Xingran next month and didn’t dare mention it, fearing it would fan the flames. She could only say tactfully: “Besides, you’re very busy, and I’m often not in Cloud City. Our schedules might not align.”

“It doesn’t have to be overnight.” Mu Shanyi didn’t understand how Miao Zhu equated meeting with staying over. “If schedules don’t match, we can make it up later.”

“…Okay.” Miao Zhu couldn’t think of any reason to say no.

“So, what does this mean?” Mu Shanyi picked up the pack of finger cots with two fingers and dAngeld it in front of Miao Zhu, circling back to the original question. “Why do you carry this around?”

…

Mu Shanyi wouldn’t think she carried finger cots to make it convenient to hook up with anyone anytime, would she?

Miao Zhu felt both annoyed and shy: “You said last time you weren’t prepared, so I bought them tonight.”

“Tonight,” Mu Shanyi latched onto the key point, “while waiting for me?”

Miao Zhu was about to reply when a group of people appeared in her line of sight, walking toward the hotel in twos and threes. Her mind went blank, and she collapsed onto Mu Shanyi’s lap, arching her back.

Mu Shanyi looked out the car window.

“The seafood porridge hotpot was pretty good! I suggest we go again tomorrow!”

“There are so many tasty things—why not try something else? We’re leaving the day after tomorrow.”

The group chatted idly as they approached the hotel and spotted the luxury car parked under the porte-cochere with dual license plates. They slowed down to admire it.

“…I’m voting for porridge hotpot! The broth is so fresh, and the offal is tender! Bouncy and crispy~”

“I want rice noodle rolls! Boat congee! …All the street food—grilled chicken, roast goose, desserts—why do I only have one stomach?!”

“…”

Mu Shanyi placed her hand on Miao Zhu’s head and asked: “Hiding from what?”

The people hadn’t gone far, and Miao Zhu stayed down, whispering: “My colleagues…”

“The windows are tinted—they can’t see you.” The hair under her hand felt like smooth, cool satin. Mu Shanyi slipped her fingers in from Miao Zhu’s hairline, burying them in the silky strands, her fingertips pressing against the scalp with slight pressure. “Besides, you’re not disheveled. What are you afraid of?”