– CP | Chapter 16

During the first 24 hours at Han Che's place, it felt like I had lived through an entire week.

In the morning, my happiness level plummeted when my roommate replied.

〚Still haven't found it.〛

I even looked miserable while brushing my teeth. Although I'm not particularly fond of furry animals, I have basic human decency. Whenever I imagined that golden retriever—completely incapable of surviving on its own—starving, growing thin, with nothing to eat, my heart clenched painfully.

I twisted the bathroom doorknob with my still-damp face and opened the door.

Outside stood Han Che, sporting a bird's-nest hairstyle, blue stubble on his chin. He glared at me and jabbed a finger in my face.

"Lin Wen! Why didn't you put me on the bed?!"

Last night, right in the middle of our happy kissing session, he'd actually fallen asleep. I called his name several times, but he didn't respond. So I stuffed a pillow under his head, tried my best to ignore a certain protruding body part, covered him with a light blanket, and considered my duty fulfilled.

Yet somehow he was angry.

Imagine falling asleep while kissing. It really showed how little he operated with his lower half.

"You're huge. How was I supposed to carry you to the bed?" I shot back. "What am I, your boyfriend?"

"And then you just went to sleep in the bed yourself?" He kept rolling his neck and rubbing his left shoulder as if he was genuinely uncomfortable.

Feeling a little guilty, I lowered my voice.

"Was I supposed to sleep on the cold tile floor with you?"

That only made him explode further.

"So you know it was cold! I slept there all night—my blood circulation practically stopped."

He made an exaggerated pained face and shook his head at me in disappointment.

"Forget it. I'll massage it myself."

"..."

I placed a hand on his shoulder.

"Here?"

"Lower. Yeah. Harder."

"..."

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On an early winter afternoon, cold winds brushed past bare branches outside. The last leaves swayed and fell.

The thirty-third floor, however, felt none of it. The central heating maintained a perfect temperature twenty-four hours a day.

I wore the T-shirt I'd bought yesterday, curled up on the sofa hugging a pillow. On the screen, Anne Hathaway was shoveling pills into her mouth with trembling hands.

Outside on the terrace, Han Che was on the phone.

One foot rested casually on the rattan table. He looked utterly relaxed and unruly.

The wind outside was strong enough to make a potted plant struggle pitifully, its leaves trembling. Yet Han Che seemed completely immune to the cold. He stood there in a white T-shirt and athletic shorts, letting the wind hit him directly.

Sparse leg hair accentuated the pale lines of his calves.

For a grown man, he actually had pretty nice legs.

I watched the movie, watched him, and kept an eye on the apartment all at once.

Behind me, in the open kitchen, the housekeeper was preparing ingredients. A robot vacuum named WALL-E diligently searched for dust on the floor.

Potato chips crackled in my mouth.

It felt as though a corner of my life had been overturned too.

A working-class kid like me was actually sitting around while other people worked for me.

Capitalism really was dangerous.

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Han Che's phone call lasted until halfway through the movie.

The moment the housekeeper finished cooking, he came charging inside as if he'd smelled the food from outside.

He was freezing.

Sniffling loudly into several tissues, he flopped onto the sofa and wrapped himself tightly around me.

"I'm freezing to death, little sister."

His skin was ice cold.

I struggled uselessly.

"Then why didn't you wear more clothes?"

"How am I supposed to show off my workout results if I wear more?"

He immediately lifted one leg of his shorts, flexing the muscles of his thigh.

When I failed to react much, he rolled up his sleeve to his shoulder and flexed his bicep.

The muscles were well-defined but not excessive.

Even though this was technically a private space, there was still a third person present—and an elder at that.

Embarrassed, I nodded politely and escaped from his embrace.

"Not bad. Keep up the good work."

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I retreated to the kitchen and helped carry dishes to the table.

Yesterday I'd been worrying about how my mediocre cooking skills would handle all the ingredients he'd bought.

Today the housekeeper solved that problem.

Earlier, while Han Che was on the phone, I'd chatted with her.

She told me she came twice a week, Wednesdays and Sundays, usually for two or three hours at a time. She cleaned the

house and cooked a meal.

I complimented her efficiency. The apartment was huge, yet she could clean and cook in just a few hours.

She smiled shyly.

"Modern tools help. And Han Che is pretty tidy, so it's quick."

She never asked what relationship Han Che and I had.

And thanks to her professional standards, there wasn't even a hint of curiosity in her eyes.

As we started eating, Aunt Wang sent WALL-E into the master bedroom and began organizing the coffee table.

Documents, books, snack bags, remote controls—everything quickly found its proper place.

I ate quietly while secretly watching her.

Han Che glanced at me a few times.

Then his foot nudged my calf under the table.

I kicked him.

"Eat properly."

He didn't eat rice or other starches, so he finished much faster than I did. Slouching back in his chair with one leg crossed, he started watching Love and Other Drugs.

Soon the characters on screen were getting intimate.

Without moving his upper body, he hooked my leg with his under the table, just like last time, rubbing lazily against me.

Today he was wearing shorts.

The hair on his legs tickled my bare calves.

I pushed him away.

No moving.

Seeing my expression, as if I were preparing for execution, and my feet planted firmly with zero cooperation, Han Che covered his mouth and laughed.

"Little sister, we're at home. Why are you so nervous?"

"There's someone else here. Stop messing around."

The moment I said it, I realized it sounded way too intimate and buried my face in my bowl.

"Who?" he whispered, sneaking closer.

I rolled my eyes and continued drinking soup.

The housekeeper's cooking was excellent, and it had been a long time since I'd eaten a proper home-cooked meal.

I ate a lot.

When I didn't answer, Han Che reminded me:

"That's the cleaning lady, not my mom."

Did he think I was stupid?

"Do you think I'm an idiot? If it were your mom, you'd probably have hidden me somewhere already."

"Not necessarily."

He snorted.

His foot continued dragging mine around beneath the table.

"I might present you to my mom as an offering."

"Does your mom pressure you to get married too?"

He sighed dramatically.

"Different worlds. Same mother."

"Would your mom ever come here?" I glanced nervously toward the door. "She won't suddenly show up, right?"

TV dramas always did that.

The girl stays at male lead's house.

The male lead's mother suddenly appears.

Cue drama.

"Are you scared?" he asked.

I nodded.

I had absolutely no intention of meeting his mother. Our relationship was awkward enough already.

Han Che turned toward the housekeeper.

"Aunt Wang, has my mom come back yet?"

My heart immediately jumped into my throat.

Aunt Wang smiled gently.

"She came back briefly, but last night she said she was transferring through Macau and staying there for two more days."

Han Che groaned.

"If I call her, I'll get an hour-long travel diary. Forget it."

He opened WeChat and started browsing her social media posts instead.

After discussing Han Che's father's diet for a bit, Aunt Wang returned to work.

I listened quietly.

Then I leaned toward Han Che, cupped my hands around my mouth, and whispered:

"You two know each other?"

He nearly laughed.

Lowering his voice to match mine, he replied:

"She's my parents' housekeeper."

"Oh."

I hesitated.

"Will she tell your mom there's a woman staying here?"

Now my voice was barely audible.

Like students secretly talking during class.

Han Che gestures toward Aunt Wang.

"Why don't you ask her yourself?"

I shook my head.

"Forget it. I'm leaving tomorrow anyway. Even if she tells your mom, it'll be your problem."

The teasing expression on his face instantly froze.

"You're leaving?"

"Of course. Tomorrow's Monday. I have work."

I couldn't exactly live here forever.

An unmarried man and woman.

Kissing every day.

No official relationship.

And it was interfering with my search for a boyfriend.

Smiling, I patted his shoulder.

"To thank you for letting me stay in your luxury apartment these past two days, I prepared a little gift."

He completely missed the suspicious tone in my voice.

Instead, he looked offended.

"You slept with me for two days and now you're leaving?"

He said it so loudly it drowned out the vacuum cleaner.

I immediately covered his mouth.

"Who the hell slept with you?! I don't have that ability!"

He snorted.

"How would you know if you never tried?"

"I'm not a doctor. Why would I test that?"

The thought made me start laughing again.

I nudged him.

"Aren't you curious about the gift?"

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After lunch, Han Che went back to reviewing design drawings.

I went downstairs to pick up an express delivery.

Han Che had been incredibly good to me.

Food, drinks, entertainment.

If he had been a woman instead of a man—and if money weren't a factor—he would've instantly been promoted to lifelong best friend status.

He'd been ridiculously generous.

I'd spent ages thinking of something to repay him.

After observing his apartment, I realized he lacked nothing.

Perfume, ties, belts, electronics—anything I bought would probably be inferior to what he already had.

So I took a different approach.

Honestly, I was impressed with my own genius.

Han Che had said he'd been to hospitals, taken medicine, and seen therapists.

But had he tried traditional Chinese medicinal liquor?

I doubted it.

One of my coworkers' fathers owned a family-planning products store and ran a side business. She often shared amusing stories about customers during lunch.

Never in my life had I imagined I'd end up supporting her family's business.

Excitedly, I removed the medicinal liquor from its box.

Inside the clear glass bottle floated deer antler, and a variety of mysterious dark ingredients.

I unscrewed the cap.

Strong white liquor fumes hit my nose.

I poured a glass, added ice cubes for better flavor, chose a whiskey glass for presentation, and eagerly knocked on the study door.

Han Che was working in CAD.

Well, supposedly working.

QQ was open on top of everything.

He didn't look pleased to see me.

"What?"

I pouted.

"Is this how you treat guests?"

"Would a guest be so heartless? Staying two days and then leaving?"

"This isn't my house. Of course I can leave whenever I want."

I knew I couldn't out-argue him.

So before he could continue, I shoved the glass into his hand.

"Drink."

He clearly didn't realize it was alcohol.

He took a sip.

Then immediately refused another.

"Come on, drink it. It'll make you happy."

My coworker had said one glass a day after meals was enough.

The timing was perfect.

"What is this?"

He set the glass down.

I slowly revealed the answer.

"It's medicinal liquor."

"..."

He stared blankly.

Then looked down into the glass.

Noticed the floating particles.

Realized what it was.

With a horrified kick, he sent his chair rolling backward until it hit the wall.

Pointing at the drink, he shouted:

"Holy shit, Lin Wen! You gave me aphrodisiac wine?!"

The phrase sounded unbelievably sleazy.

"Well, maybe that's not the official name. It's medicinal liquor. It's supposed to be really good for men."

My coworker claimed it gradually improved certain male functions.

Maybe it worked.

Maybe it didn't.

But it was the thought that counted.

Han Che looked like he'd just swallowed poison.

He clutched his throat and coughed violently.

"I can't do this. I feel sick."

"..."

After chugging half a bottle of water, he visibly wilted.

I rolled my eyes.

"There's no poison in it. Stop acting. I even tasted it first."

He stared at me in disbelief.

"Are you secretly a man?"

"If other men drink it and become more virile, why are you reacting in the opposite direction?"

Honestly, I wanted to hit him.

He was insulting my thousand-yuan medicinal liquor.

Resting his chin on one hand, Han Che fell silent.

Something intense flickered in his eyes.

Finally he asked:

"So in your eyes, am I really that pathetic?"

"Pathetic enough that I need to drink this stuff?"

I froze.

Whenever this subject came up, he alternated between arrogance and self-pity so unpredictably that I could never tell where his sore spot actually was.

All I knew was that I'd clearly stepped on it.

He stood up.

I instinctively backed away.

Step after step.

Until he trapped me between his arms.

A cold smile appeared on his face.

"Tell me."

He leaned closer.

"Did you want me to drink it so I'd react to you?"