– CP | Chapter 14

For once, I slept soundly through the night and didn't have insomnia. I didn't wake up until noon.

When I got up, Han Che was frying steak. The moment I stepped into the kitchen, I heard the sizzling oil and smelled the rich aroma of meat. It felt like home in a way I hadn't experienced for a long time.

Seeing me awake, he greeted me naturally.

"Got up because you smelled the food?"

The way he said it made it sound as though we'd been roommates for years.

I nodded, clasping my hands behind my back.

"Is there any for me?" I asked quietly.

He gestured toward a tiny piece of meat in the lower-left corner of the pan.

"With a stomach as small as yours, this should be enough."

Annoyed, I pointed at the rice container.

"Why don't you just tell me to eat that instead?"

He was flipping the steak. What I said made him laugh so hard his hand shook, and he nearly dropped the meat before hurriedly catching it.

"As long as you don't starve. Whatever I cook, you eat."

He fried one steak and cooked a bowl of instant noodles, then split both in half and gave me a portion.

A rather shabby Western-style meal.

I didn't mind, but the amount left on his plate clearly wasn't enough for him.

"You're only eating that much?"

He inhaled his food, finishing it in a few bites. Tossing down his knife and fork, he said casually,

"We're out of food. We'll go shopping later."

I ate a few mouthfuls of noodles before starting on the steak. After carefully chewing a bite, I realized he'd only used black pepper. The taste was heavier, and I could barely taste anything.

I got up to grab some seasoning and started shaking the bottle vigorously.

Arms crossed, he watched me coldly struggle with it.

"Have you ever heard of quantum mechanics?"

Focused on the seasoning, I shook my head absentmindedly.

Han Che picked up another bottle and walked over.

"What's that one?" I asked.

His kitchen was full of unlabeled jars and bottles. I'd grabbed one at random, assuming he had found something tastier.

Instead, he took my bottle and rubbed the bottoms of the two containers together in a twisting motion. The seasoning that had stubbornly refused to come out immediately flowed smoothly.

I stared.

"Wow."

"Lin Wen, use your brain when you do things. Shaking seasoning like that is the same as casting a random net trying to find a boyfriend."

He shook his head in disappointment.

Pouting, I returned to cutting my steak.

By then, the noodles had already expanded in my stomach and filled every remaining gap. I put down my utensils and pushed the plate toward him.

"You eat it."

Steak wasn't noodles. As long as he didn't use my fork, it was perfectly hygienic.

He was replying to messages on his phone. Glancing up at the steak and then at me, he frowned.

"You're full already?"

I touched my stomach.

Actually, I wasn't full. I just wasn't hungry anymore.

His jaw worked irritably from side to side. Without saying a word, he cut the steak into bite-sized pieces and started feeding them to me one at a time.

I waved my hands, but before I could refuse, he stuffed a piece into my mouth.

Before I'd even swallowed, another piece was waiting.

I chewed frantically, eyes wide as saucers. When I turned my head away, refusing to eat, he simply followed me around with the fork.

Thankfully, there was only half a steak left—seven or eight small cubes. Otherwise my cheeks might have exploded.

Seeing me grinding my teeth in frustration, he glanced at me.

"Do you know why your chest is flat? Because you don't eat enough meat."

As if I didn't understand science.

"Flat chests are genetic. They have nothing to do with eating meat."

And besides, I immediately straightened up.

"I'm not flat-chested at all!"

He took a step back and measured me with his eyes, stroking his chin.

"B-plus?"

I nodded.

"Yeah."

"Oops. Still got it."

He snapped his fingers smugly and walked away.

Only then did I realize he'd just used my chest as a calibration tool.

What a shameless pervert.

Oddly enough, I wasn't usually the type to be this uninhibited around people.

But ever since meeting Han Che, the boundaries of our conversations had been getting lower and lower.

After thinking about it, I figured it was because we'd met online.

There had been no social ties or mutual acquaintances involved, so the first thing we'd encountered was each other's real selves—not the social masks we wore around others.

Even after our lives gradually became connected, that directness never changed.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ

Han Che took me to a supermarket.

I hated admitting how narrow my horizons were, but I was genuinely dumbfounded by the gigantic packages and shelves full of foreign-language labels.

The layout was familiar. The brands were not.

After ten minutes of confusion, I finally asked,

"What kind of supermarket is this?"

"Sam's Club."

Han Che was selecting steaks with the concentration of a professional.

I came from a third-tier city in northern China and had gone to university in a second-tier southern city. My life wasn't luxurious, but I'd never lacked food or clothing.

I've been to plenty of large supermarkets.

At that time, however, there weren't many Sam's Club stores in the country, so my ignorance wasn't surprising.

Still, at that moment, I felt a very real gap in lifestyle and living standards.

Han Che put his chosen steaks into the cart and glanced at me.

"Never been here?"

I stayed silent, worried he might laugh at me.

Instead, he dragged me around the entire massive store, filling two shopping carts.

When we first entered, I'd thought I'd pay for everything.

After all, I'd been staying at his place for two days.

The moment the second cart started filling up, I immediately abandoned that idea.

Self-respect was meaningless compared to money.

Han Che was exactly that kind of person.

When you felt touched, he'd make everything a clear transaction.

When you felt proud, he'd splash cold water on you.

When you felt awkward, he'd immediately make you feel comfortable again.

All I could do was try to maintain emotional stability.

But one thing was true:

Being around him really did make me happy.

On the drive home, every time the traffic light turned red, he'd pick up his phone to reply to messages.

After watching this happen several times, I couldn't resist a sarcastic jab.

"Which pitiful girl is it this time? Whoever she is, she must be pretty special. You're replying awfully enthusiastically."

Completely unashamed, he said,

"You know us perverts. This is basically our only hobby."

"When we were chatting, did you do the same thing?"

"What?"

"Reply to my messages while driving?"

He turned and raised an eyebrow.

"What do you think?"

There it was. I was being self-important again.

"Fine, fine. I get it."

I frowned.

What a jerk.

"I don't remember whether I replied while driving," he said.

"But there were quite a few times after work when I was waiting at a red light, remembered something from our conversations, and started laughing so hard I couldn't stop."

Fine.

Anger gone.

I knew it.

What he liked was my sense of humor.

After we got home and finished putting away the groceries, Han Che suddenly became restless.

Holding his phone between two fingers, he spun it rapidly.

"Let's go, let's go! We're going out!"

"Aren't we eating at home?"

We'd bought plenty of fresh ingredients. They wouldn't keep forever.

Listen to me worrying about someone else's groceries.

"We'll deal with that tomorrow."

He threw an arm around my shoulders and leaned close.

"My friend's wife is out of town. Come on! Let's go drinking."

Of course, going to a bar required makeup.

As I was drawing eyeliner, Han Che stared at me without blinking.

The attention made my hand shake so badly I nearly turned the line into a wave.

I shoved him with my elbow.

"What are you doing?"

"Watching women put on makeup is pretty interesting."

He kept moving closer.

I tilted my head away and started applying lipstick in front of the mirror.

The moment it touched my lips, he snatched it away.

Examining it, he muttered,

"Is this organic?"

"No."

"Don't wear it."

Frowning, he shook his head.

"It tastes bad."

"..."

I pulled out another tube—a blue-toned red lipstick—and waved it at him.

"As long as it looks good!"

What was I supposed to do, go to a bar looking like a ghost?

Before all this, I'd thought I was simply spending a couple of days partying with him.

After all, when someone feeds you and gives you a place to stay, you naturally feel obligated.

I never expected that for the next week, we'd practically be at bars every single night.

I'd only brought one pair of sneakers and two work sweaters.

I begged him to take me shopping.

Otherwise I'd be too embarrassed to even step into a bar.

Meanwhile, he'd thrown on a black shirt embroidered with gold trim.

He looked ready to walk the red carpet.

Even if I couldn't pass for his girlfriend, I at least didn't want to look like a liquor promoter standing beside him.

He initially refused.

Only after seeing how little clothing I actually had did he roll his eyes and tell me to hurry up.

Afraid he'd change his mind, I dragged him through the parking garage at full speed.

We headed straight toward his Cadillac, and I urged him to unlock it.

Now, suddenly, he wasn't in a hurry anymore.

Standing beside a black sports car parked nearby, he admired it thoughtfully, stroking his chin.

Then he tossed me a look.

"What do you think of this car?"

I snorted dismissively.

"Too flashy."

The instant the words left my mouth, the car seemed to respond.

Its low, sleek rear lit up right in front of me.

"Let's go."

Han Che grinned.

"We're taking this one today."