After replying to her Moments post, Zhou Yang waited and waited—yet no response came from Su Hao. No reply in Moments, no reply on WeChat. He sank into the sofa, his well-defined fingers gripping his phone, switching back and forth between Su Hao’s Moments and their chat window.

 

He was actually hesitating like this… just to wait for her message.

 

“What are you staring at so intently?” A long leg suddenly kicked him.

 

Zhou Yang looked up and met Wen Zeli’s face. Wen Zeli unbuttoned his suit jacket, leaned back into the sofa opposite him, lit a cigarette, and snorted. “What? Why are you looking at me like you just got dumped?”

 

“I haven’t even settled accounts with you yet.” He stubbed the cigarette forcefully into the ashtray, full of aggression.

 

Zhou Yang raised an eyebrow, casually placed his phone on the table, and replied calmly, “What account? Can you even settle it clearly?”

 

“Zhou Yang, you’re a real bastard,” Wen Zeli pointed at him.

 

Pressing his hand to his knee, Wen Zeli glared hard at him. “You nearly got me killed by that Miss Shen, and you still have the nerve—doesn’t all of that count?”

 

“That’s your wife,” Zhou Yang said, picking up the champagne and pouring two glasses. He slid one over. “Let’s put personal matters aside and talk about Xingyan International first.”

 

Wen Zeli took the glass and clicked his tongue. “When things are good, she’s ‘my wife.’ When they’re bad, she’s ‘Miss Shen.’”

 

Zhou Yang chuckled softly, dropped a few ice cubes into his glass, swirled it, and took a sip. His gaze unconsciously flicked back to his phone.

 

Nothing.

 

No movement at all.

 

His eyes darkened slightly. He picked up a document and handed it to Wen Zeli. “Take a look. Is this price reasonable? We sent people to negotiate, but we’re not familiar with their internal situation. Feels like this guy’s holding something back.”

 

Wen Zeli flipped through it with the same hand holding his drink, ice water sliding along his knuckles. After a quick glance, he said, “He is holding back. The price is too high. Later he’ll keep part of the technology, and you’ll be the sucker.”

 

“Damn,” Zhou Yang laughed around the ice. “Trying to carve a piece off me? He’s got guts.”

 

“He’s not usable,” Wen Zeli said. “If you acquire them, deal with him afterward.”

 

He set the document down and reached for the ice tongs—then noticed Zhou Yang’s eyes drifting toward his phone again.

 

How many times had he checked it already?

 

“What are you looking at? You’ve been staring at your phone nonstop,” Wen Zeli reached for it, but Zhou Yang dodged.

 

Wen Zeli rested both hands on his knees and narrowed his eyes. Zhou Yang set the phone down—yet still glanced at it once more.

 

“Nothing,” Zhou Yang said.

 

He steadied himself, picked up his tablet, pulled up a new set of data, and continued discussing business. Wen Zeli pulled out his phone and typed in their group chat.

 

Wen Zeli: Holy shit. Did Zhou Yang also fail to chase Su Hao?
Xu Dian: Congrats, you finally noticed.
Wen Zeli: Hahahahaha—talking business and he checks his phone seven or eight times. Ninth time now. Waiting for a message? I feel instantly better.
Li Yi: You think Su Hao is easy to chase? Dream on.
Xu Dian: Oh, tenth time yet? You sure you’ll finish the deal tonight?
Jiang Yu: …I’m starting to doubt this is Zhou Yang.
Li Yi: [Image]
Li Yi: Look where I circled.
Xu Dian: “You have time to look at lipsticks but not to send me a message?”
Wen Zeli: Hahaha, so sour.
Jiang Yu: So resentful. Someone should show this to Shi Lin.

 

Lunch was at the Zhou residence. Su Hao and Su Qian cooked together, and even Uncle Zhou came home. After eating, Zhou Qinkai had errands to run and offered to drop Su Hao back at Huahui Apartments.

 

She said goodbye, dragged her suitcase upstairs, and collapsed onto the sofa.

 

After resting for about ten minutes, she got up and cleaned the guest bedroom again, laid out a rug she had bought earlier, and made the room warm and cozy. She took photos and sent them to Cheng Ling.

 

Cheng Ling rarely typed.

 

She sent a voice message instead. “It’s very beautiful.”

 

“Mom, do you like it?”

 

“I love it.”

 

Back when Su Hao took care of her parents, no matter how hard things were, the house was always spotless and orderly. They had always believed that a daughter like her would be cherished wherever she went—but so far, no one truly had.

 

“It’ll rain when you go back to Jiang City, right? If it rains, don’t go out. You’ll get headaches from the wind.”

 

“Got it. Is it the weekend? Are you off today?”

 

“Yes.”

 

Just then, the doorbell rang.

 

Su Hao left the guest room and went to open the door.

 

Zhou Yang stood outside, hands in his pockets, a cigarette between his lips. His voice was low. “Can I have a glass of water?”

 

The voice call was still on.

 

As Su Hao froze, Cheng Ling heard it too. “Who is it?”

 

Su Hao looked at the man in front of her. His fingers hooked his tie, loosening it. She said softly, “Mom, Zhou Yang happened to stop by. I’ll get him some water.”

 

Cheng Ling hadn’t expected it to be him and froze for a moment. Any fleeting hope instantly vanished.

 

“Oh… Zhou Yang.”

 

“Yes.”

 

Su Hao turned to pour water and caught the faint scent of alcohol on him.

 

In that moment, his tall body pressed close from behind. Zhou Yang lowered his head, still loosening his tie, his voice brushing past her ear, warm breath falling on her neck.

 

“Auntie Ling, long time no see. How have you been?”

 

He was speaking into her phone.

 

“Ah? I’m fine, quite well. Zhou Yang, thank you for taking care of Su Hao,” Cheng Ling said awkwardly, then quickly adopted a polite elder’s tone.

 

Su Hao turned and held the phone up to his ear, signaling for him to take it.

 

He pretended not to see.

 

The tie took forever to come off.

 

Smiling slightly, he replied, “No need to thank me. It’s what I should do.”

 

But his gaze landed boldly on Su Hao.

 

She had changed into loungewear for cleaning—loose neckline, pale skin faintly visible. His eyes lingered.

 

She nudged the phone again.

 

He still didn’t take it.

 

Su Hao pulled it back, walked to the dining table, and said, “Mom, let’s stop here. I’ll call you tomorrow.”

 

“Alright.”

 

The call ended.

 

Su Hao set the phone down, poured him water, and handed it over.

 

Zhou Yang leaned against the sofa armrest, tie finally undone, collar open, looking unruly and defiant.

 

He didn’t take the glass. “Feed me, Ms. Busy.”

 

She set the glass on the table. “Then drink it yourself, Mr. Busy.”

 

Zhou Yang: “……”

 

She went into the guest room, tied up a trash bag, and left it by the door. He still hadn’t touched the water.

 

The alcohol made his head clear, but seeing her eased his restlessness. His narrow eyes followed her everywhere—watching her finish with the trash, then disappear into the kitchen.

 

He saw only her pale arm reaching up for the cutting board, sleeve sliding down, skin white as jade.

 

“Su Hao.”

 

“What?”

 

Her voice came from inside.

 

“Do you wear size B?”

 

She froze.

 

A second later—

 

Bang.

 

The kitchen door slammed shut, carrying unmistakable anger.

 

Zhou Yang laughed softly, then drained the warm water in one go and walked to the kitchen door, knocking lightly.

 

“What do you like?”

 

“Discounted lipsticks? Hm?”

 

Clattering noises came from inside.

 

“Your spending habits need fixing,” he continued. “If you want something, just tell me.”

 

“Zhou Yang, are you that free?” she snapped from inside.

 

He smiled. “Very busy. But you didn’t reply to my message, so I came to see you.”

 

“You’ve seen me. You can leave now.”

 

“I should.”

 

His phone had been ringing nonstop—Lu Qi was waiting downstairs. Zhou Yang knocked again. The noise inside quieted a little.

 

“Su Hao, come out. I want to kiss you.”

 

The clattering grew louder—silent protest.

 

Footsteps came from the stairwell. Lu Qi peeked in, adjusting his glasses. Zhou Yang frowned.

 

“President Zhou, we need to go.”

 

Zhou Yang checked his watch.

 

Time was tight.

 

He glanced at the kitchen door. “I’m leaving.”

 

“Go,” she replied.

 

She still didn’t open the door.

 

He wanted to push it open—but thought better of it. Seeing her had already lifted his mood.

 

As he closed the door, he pointed to the trash bag. “Take that downstairs. I’ll let it slide that you sold the lipsticks I gave her on Moments.”

 

Lu Qi broke into a sweat, quickly bent down, and picked it up.

 

They left together.

 

About ten minutes after the car drove away, Su Hao came out of the kitchen with another bag of trash. She planned to buy new kitchenware, so she’d been cleaning thoroughly.

 

She checked her phone.

 

A message from Cheng Ling.

 

She opened it.

 

Cheng Ling rarely typed—but this time, she sent two messages.

 

Cheng Ling: Haohao, Mom knows you married back then because of your father. At that time, you still had feelings for Zhou Yang. All these years, I didn’t dare bring it up—but now I have to. I hope you understand: he’s not right for you. I don’t want you to get hurt.
Cheng Ling: If I’m overthinking, just take it as me nagging.

 

Su Hao: Mom, I’ve always understood.

 

Cheng Ling didn’t reply—likely wanting to end the topic. Su Hao added:

 

“Take care of your health. Don’t worry about me. I know what I’m doing.”

 

Some people are fine to think about—but not to have.

 

And Su Hao had never liked dwelling on thoughts anyway. She didn’t have the time.