“Miss Yi is buying snacks but stepped away to the restroom. I’m in line for her.”
Meng Qinghuai hummed, about to hang up, then suddenly asked, “What snacks?”
Uncle Zhi glanced at the long queue, “Tanghulu.”
Meng Qinghuai: “…”
The image of Guan Yingtang holding a string of candied hawthorns, inspecting it curiously, popped into his mind.
For some reason, he lowered his head and smiled.
It was strange. Just thinking of that scene dispelled much of the fatigue from hours of work.
Somehow, scenes associated with Guan Yingtang always seemed bright and warm, like little glowing bubbles alive in his heart.
He felt lighter, brighter.
After hanging up, Meng Qinghuai continued working, focusing on the ten pending documents on his screen until Fu Xu knocked and came in to confirm a dinner invitation.
Meng Qinghuai paused for a moment, turned his chair toward the window.
Twilight descended; the sky in the distance was streaked with shades of blue. Leaves fluttered in the spring breeze. He had never noticed before that the city had such sudden romantic moments.
Nor did he realize that his bond had silently arrived.
After a while, Meng Qinghuai spoke: “Not going.”
–
Guan Yingtang spent the whole afternoon chatting with Uncle Zhi.
Unsure how to understand Meng Qinghuai, He Yongzhi was like a timely beacon, providing her with plenty of information.
She learned many things about Meng Qinghuai — like how he used to work until eight or nine every night but now rarely worked overtime because of her, and had pushed aside many social obligations; how he preferred Western-style coffee over tea;
And also—
Uncle Zhi told her Meng Qinghuai had mild insomnia and never slept well.
Guan Yingtang regretted not chatting with He Yongzhi earlier; otherwise, during that hour waiting with her phone in Barcelona, she might have avoided being caught red-handed by Meng Qinghuai.
When she returned to Jinghua Mansion, the lights were already on.
If she had felt a little unhappy during the midday stroll, after a whole afternoon’s “baptism” of conversation with Uncle Zhi, Guan Yingtang’s mood was completely different at home.
Meng Qinghuai had just come home and naturally asked, “Have you eaten?”
Having sampled all kinds of hutong snacks all afternoon, Guan Yingtang wasn’t hungry at all.
She bent her head to change shoes by the entrance, then looked up at Meng Qinghuai, wanting to say something but not sure how.
She could only give him a look that said, “I didn’t expect you to be this kind of husband behind the scenes.”
Meng Qinghuai was confused by the gaze, “What?”
Guan Yingtang pursed her lips and replied kindly, “Nothing. I’m not hungry. I’ll go take a shower first.”
Her steps lightened as she left, and Meng Qinghuai didn’t pay much attention.
Rare to be home this early, he brewed a cup of coffee, turned on the TV, and sat down.
The finance news would start at 8 pm, and before that, Meng Qinghuai replied to some stacked emails.
Just before the show began, Guan Yingtang came downstairs.
She had just finished showering and was wearing a modest Chinese-style nightgown, fragrant as she sat beside Meng Qinghuai, “What are you watching? Can I join?”
As she spoke, the opening of the Finance News started.
Guan Yingtang paused, then nodded with sudden understanding, “Oh, news.”
That was so Meng Qinghuai.
Though the news was boring, now that everyone was seated, changing channels seemed superficial.
After all, as a lady from a prestigious family, one had to focus on content with value, not just mindless soap operas.
Guan Yingtang propped her hand on the sofa armrest, soothing herself, “Not bad.”
Meng Qinghuai observed the slight change in her expression and smiled faintly, handing her the remote, “What do you want to watch?”
“Anything.” Guan Yingtang glanced at the host on screen and naturally followed up, “I don’t usually follow Federal Reserve interest rate hikes, but today A-shares opened low. Have Asia Bay’s new energy projects been affected?”
Meng Qinghuai was slightly stunned.
He never thought Guan Yingtang would understand stocks and investments.
To his knowledge, she majored in literature at Stanford, nothing to do with finance.
But somehow, it made sense. The media’s praise of her as Hong Kong Island’s top heiress was never just about a pretty face.
At the duke’s banquet, when she spoke fluent Spanish offhand, Meng Qinghuai knew she deserved all her fame.
“Do you usually pay attention to these things?” Meng Qinghuai’s gaze shifted fully from the screen to her.
Guan Yingtang shrugged, “Sometimes.”
Actually, it was every day, every night.
She couldn’t remember when it started, but she had always been required by Guan Zhiheng to watch Hong Kong Island’s news on time to stay informed.
Even if uninterested, over time, she at least understood the basics of economic trends.
For the first time, the two sat together watching serious finance news.
Guan Yingtang wanted to keep up the act, but halfway through, she grew sleepy.
Now with Meng Qinghuai, she no longer felt the heavy burden from before.
After a long walk this afternoon, fatigue hit her, and before the news ended, she said she wanted to go upstairs and rest.
Meng Qinghuai didn’t insist, “Alright, then sleep well.”
Guan Yingtang glanced at him sideways, “Aren’t you sleepy?”
Since returning from Barcelona, he didn’t seem to need to adjust to the time difference; he looked very energetic.
Meng Qinghuai glanced at his watch; it was just past nine, “I’m not going to sleep so early.”
Hearing this, Guan Yingtang paused and suddenly recalled Uncle Zhi mentioning his insomnia this afternoon.
…So he can’t sleep, that’s why he’s not going to bed?
A flicker of sympathy rose in her heart, and after thinking it over, she sat back down on the sofa, “Turn around.”
Meng Qinghuai: “What for?”
Just then, a feminine fragrance suddenly wafted close to his face.
Guan Yingtang sat cross-legged in front of him, leaning slightly forward, her hands resting on his temples as she said, “My mom had insomnia for a while. A Chinese medicine doctor taught her some acupressure points to massage for ten minutes before bed, and she’d sleep very well.”
She regarded it as a way to repay Meng Qinghuai for taking care of her lately.
“I’ll try it on you. Maybe it will work?” She looked down and gently began pressing, her tone very soft.
Meng Qinghuai’s Adam’s apple moved slightly, “Did Uncle Zhi tell you?”
Feeling a bit guilty about talking so much about Meng Qinghuai all afternoon, Guan Yingtang said, “…He mentioned it by chance.”
She quickly interrupted his rising mood, “Shh, don’t talk. Stay quiet.”
The two sat face to face, very close.
The slippery sensation of her fingertips rubbing his skin repeatedly, Guan Yingtang focused on the massage, unaware of the subtle tension beneath.
Nor did she notice the gaze falling from her eyes to her nose, then mouth and chin — almost burning with intensity.
Her breath flowed slowly with her movements, brushing Meng Qinghuai’s nose. He stared at her without blinking, all the hidden feelings restrained yet infinitely magnified.
Until his body began to respond.
Guan Yingtang suddenly lifted her face and softly asked, “Do you feel a bit better?”
Their eyes met; hers were pure and clear, only highlighting the turmoil in Meng Qinghuai’s heart.
He looked away.
His voice hoarse, “That’s enough.”
Guan Yingtang’s hand froze mid-air.
Meng Qinghuai immediately stood up, “I’ll go take a shower.”
“…”
Guan Yingtang was a little dazed as she looked at her own hand—
Had just three minutes of pressing worked?
Was he really better or just humoring her?
Muttering to herself, she went upstairs. Lying in bed, she kept thinking about the massage.
Glancing at her phone repeatedly, half an hour had passed. Had he finished showering? Was he asleep?
Did what she just did actually help at all?
Tossing and turning for a while, Guan Yingtang finally decided to check on him.
She didn’t find him in the adjacent bedroom and assumed he was still downstairs, planning to go down again.
Passing by the study on the second floor, she suddenly caught a whiff of ink fragrance.
The study door was slightly ajar, not fully closed.
Curious, she stepped forward and was surprised by the scene inside.
On the left side of the study desk, neatly arranged were brushes, ink, paper, and inkstone.
Meng Qinghuai stood with his head down in front of the desk, his slender fingers dipping the brush into the inkstone.
After a few seconds’ pause, as if pondering something, he finally put brush to paper.
His posture was steady, his wrist strength balanced, with a style that was effortless yet penetrated the paper.
This scene should have belonged to a graceful young nobleman unrivaled in the world, yet Meng Qinghuai’s brushwork carried an unexpectedly heart-throbbing impact.
He must have just showered, his black bathrobe loosely tied, the slightly open gap clearly revealing his waist’s mermaid lines and defined eight-pack abs.
A supremely sexy physique doing such restrained and cold work.
Watching, Guan Yingtang’s heartbeat quickened, her face flushed.
She turned away and took a deep breath.
What should she do?
Tonight, she might not be able to sleep……