Chapter 14

Song Wei stood frozen in place. “Why are you back?”

Chen Jubai strode in and steadied her swaying body. “I’m taking you to the hospital.”

Leaning on his arm for support, Song Wei protested, “No need to go to the hospital. I’m fine.”

His brows furrowed deeply.

Her pale face and unsteady stance didn’t look “fine” at all.

Without another word, he scooped her up and headed toward the door.

Song Wei, caught off balance, instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck, letting out a startled cry, “Chen Jubai!”

“We’re going to the hospital now.”

He moved quickly and reached the elevator lobby in no time. Song Wei had no choice but to say, “It’s really unnecessary. It’s just my period.”

“What?” He hadn’t caught her words.

Embarrassed, Song Wei realized their awkward position and avoided his gaze. “Put me down first.”

Finally registering the situation, Chen Jubai set her down but kept a hand on her to steady her. “Are you in a lot of pain?”

Song Wei turned back toward the apartment. “It’s a bit better now.”

Back inside, she didn’t have the energy to play host. Sitting down on the couch, clutching her abdomen, she asked, “Why did you come back? Don’t you have work?”

The trip from Shenzhen to Nan’an took four to five hours by high-speed train—about the same by plane. Given it was the beginning of the year and this was a significant project, it couldn’t have been a small matter.

Chen Jubai stood beside her for a moment before crouching down to meet her eye level. Song Wei caught a glimpse of his deep, concerned gaze.

A beat later, she pieced together the reason for his sudden appearance. A faint flush of color rose to her pale cheeks. “I’m really fine. Do you still have a ride back? Won’t this delay your work?”

His brows dipped slightly, and he replied in a low voice, “It’s taken care of.”

“Oh…”

Chen Jubai, unfamiliar with such situations, hesitated. Jiang Xiaoyu never seemed to have this problem—or if she did, he was unaware. Unsure of how to help, he asked softly, “What do you need me to do?”

Song Wei avoided his direct gaze. “There’s nothing to do. I’m feeling better.”

Talking to him distracted her enough that the pain seemed to ease considerably.

Chen Jubai said, “I’ve heard people say drinking hot water helps. I’ll make some for you.”

Before she could stop him, he was already striding into the kitchen.

From her vantage point in the open-plan apartment, Song Wei could see his every move—filling the kettle, turning it on, standing upright to wait, and then checking his phone. After a moment, he put the phone away and began rummaging through the spice rack.

Realizing he might have been searching online for advice instead of replying to messages, Song Wei smiled faintly and said, “The brown sugar is in the cabinet above your head.”

He stopped his search, followed her directions, and found the sugar. After rinsing a spoon, he scooped some into a cup, poured in the hot water, and brought it over.

“It’s still a bit hot. Wait a moment before drinking.”

Song Wei looked up at him, her lashes fluttering slightly. “Okay. Thank you.”

Chen Jubai sat down beside her, his expression and movements a bit stiff. “Do you need medication? Do you have any at home? If not, I can go buy some.”

“I already took some, but it didn’t help.”

His brows knitted again. “How bad is it? If it’s too much, you really should go to the hospital.”

Song Wei chuckled softly, revealing two small dimples. “It’s a kind of pain you can’t understand.”

“Then we’re going to the hospital.”

He stood up again, but Song Wei quickly grabbed his sleeve. “It’s almost over. No need to waste medical resources.”

“You can predict this?”

“Of course. I’ve been dealing with it for over a decade.”

He didn’t say anything, but his expression grew heavier.

Song Wei smiled again and extended her hand. “Pass me the water.”

Chen Jubai handed her the cup. Holding it with both hands, she placed it over her abdomen, letting the warmth seep through the ceramic and into her skin.

Curiosity flickered in his eyes. “Does that really help?”

“It does. It promotes blood circulation and helps with clot expulsion.”

Her explanation touched on a subject unfamiliar to him, but he understood the gist. His ears reddened slightly, and he averted his gaze.

Song Wei noticed his fleeting embarrassment and teased with a smile, “I believe you now—you really haven’t dated anyone before.”

Anyone who’d been in a relationship or had close female friends would know about menstrual cramps.

Bringing it up only added a trace of awkwardness to the air. Standing up, he said, “I’ll find something to hold the hot water for you.”

This was his second visit to her home. With no one else around today, he didn’t treat himself as a guest and began searching through her belongings, checking here and there.

Song Wei watched him, her smile lingering.

Though they weren’t particularly close, her initial impression of him had been that he was a bit of a straight-shooter—not one for sweet talk or flattery like others. Later, after joining Guangnian, she heard countless stories of his accomplishments from colleagues, adding a layer of admiration.

The more they interacted, the more she realized he wasn’t as stiff as she thought. While inexperienced, his gaze always held an honest sincerity when it landed on her. He’d actively seek her out, even going through Jiang Xiaoyu or Snowflake to get closer.

But as for being “smooth,” he wasn’t at all. While others gifted flowers, he brought cake or cat toys. While others treated her to fine dining, he took her to a hidden alleyway for pickled fish.

Oh, and there was that concert invitation—not bad, though she guessed someone else had advised him on it.

Even after visiting her home before, he still acted the same—proper and straightforward, without a hint of flirtation.

Seeing him flustered today over her cramps, even rushing back from Shenzhen, she was certain: this man had little experience in these matters.

If Yang Yingqiu found out, she’d have endless commentary to share.

Still, Chen Jubai’s actions were thoughtful and considerate. Winning Yang Yingqiu’s approval—a woman who’d met everyone from seasoned officials to naive teenagers during her years as a principal—would be a monumental task.

But the fact that he came back instead of just telling her to drink hot water over the phone… that said a lot.

Song Wei gazed at the cup on the coffee table, her smile deepening. He had traveled four or five hours just to come back and boil hot water.

Hugging her knees, she looked toward the busy figure in the kitchen, her thoughts wandering.

Not just because of her parents, but if possible…

If Chen Jubai turned out to be the right person, she wouldn’t mind exploring a deeper relationship with him—dating, or even marriage.

In the kitchen, after searching for a while without finding a suitable container for the hot water, he held up an empty drink bottle and asked, “Will this work?”

Song Wei stifled a laugh. “Chen Jubai, you’re so silly.”

Who would’ve thought? This was one of Nan’an’s most outstanding young talents, the founder of Guangnian Technology, a man who had built something from scratch. Yet, in this moment, his normally sharp mind seemed endearingly clumsy—adorably clumsy at taking care of someone.

“Hmm?”

He hadn’t quite heard her, already turning back toward the kitchen to pour the water.

Song Wei quickly reminded him, “There’s a hot water bag in the drawer of the wine cabinet. Check there.”

Following her instructions, he found it, filled it with hot water, and carefully wiped off the water droplets on the outside with a tissue.

When he walked back over, he said, “Here, it’s ready.”

“Thanks.” Song Wei took it. The hot water bag was much more comfortable than the ceramic cup, spreading warmth to her abdomen.

Chen Jubai stood nearby. “Is there anything else I can do?”

Though inexperienced, he was willing to ask. Song Wei replied, “Could you feed Snowflake for me? She hasn’t eaten since noon.”

Chen Jubai glanced around, not spotting the cat. Song Wei pointed toward her bedroom. “She’s in the bedroom, the one on the east side. Go take a look.”

He hesitated at the door for a few seconds before pushing it open.

The bedroom was small, crowded with a bed, wardrobe, and desk. Little trinkets and plush toys were scattered everywhere. Clothes hung on the chair, and a small decorative object spun lazily on the desk, resembling a clock or toy—he couldn’t tell. Two photo frames caught his eye: one depicted a family of three, seemingly from her university graduation, with Song Wei wearing a cap and gown, holding a bouquet, and smiling sweetly.

The curtains blocked out the outside light, leaving the room illuminated by the soft yellow glow of a bedside lamp. The bed was messy but clean, the pale beige sheets looking soft. A half-meter-long plush bear lay sprawled across the bed, well-loved and slightly worn, like a childhood toy.

The faint scent of tea filled the air, the same fragrance as the scarf she had worn.

The room felt like stepping into a dreamlike, foggy forest—enchanting yet disorienting. He stood frozen for a moment.

Snowflake eventually poked her head out from under the blanket, letting out a soft “meow.”

Chen Jubai snapped back to reality, picking up the small cat.

Snowflake carried the same faint scent as Song Wei—a fragrant, adorable little cat.

Chen Jubai didn’t dislike animals, but he wasn’t particularly close to them either. Still, he had held Snowflake a few times before, and the little creature seemed attached to him. The two coexisted harmoniously.

At the doorway, he glanced back into the room once more before closing the door.

Following Song Wei’s instructions, he found the cat food and fed Snowflake. Before long, the small cat was happily munching away, its little mouth rhythmically nibbling on the kibble.

Song Wei watched his practiced movements, wondering. Had she not known about his earlier encounters with Snowflake, she might have thought he was an expert at taking care of cats.

But why was Snowflake so fond of him? They hadn’t met often.

Could Snowflake really be a little flirt?

Or was he simply naturally charming to cats?

Her gaze lingered on him, too direct to go unnoticed. When he turned to look at her, Song Wei quickly shifted her eyes and pretended to sip water.

Chen Jubai sat down beside her, his voice gentle. “Feeling better now?”

Song Wei nodded. “Yeah.” Then she asked, “Are you sure your work is fine?”

Snowflake, now full, swished her tail and climbed into his lap. Chen Jubai cradled the cat and replied, “It’s fine. Today was just for early preparations.”

“Alright.”

Her stomach felt much better now, but another need crept up—she was hungry.

Before she could speak, Chen Jubai, as if reading her mind, asked, “Hungry? Let’s order takeout.”

“Sure.”

He hadn’t eaten either. Half an hour later, the takeout arrived, and they sat down together at the dining table.

After eating most of their meal, Chen Jubai asked, “Will your parents be back tonight?”

Song Wei’s voice lowered. “I’m not sure. Probably not.”

Though the takeout couldn’t compare to the meals cooked by her father, Song Gao Yi, she forced herself to eat just enough to fill her stomach. However, the mention of her parents stirred a wave of emotions, taking away her appetite.

She lowered her head, using her chopsticks to count the dry grains of rice on her plate. After a while, she softly called, “Chen Jubai.”

“Hmm?”

“Do you hate your father?”

The unexpected question left Chen Jubai momentarily speechless.

“All these years, has it been hard for you on your own?”

He paused, his expression stiff for a second.

Song Wei looked up at him, her tone calm, as if genuinely pondering the question. “So tell me, what is marriage really? What’s so good about it?”

“Every family has its struggles,” as the saying goes. How true it was. His family had its share, and so did hers. Outsiders might see her family as the picture of happiness, but if Yang Yingqiu and Song Gao Yi were to truly divorce, the neighbors would gossip about it for days.

Sometimes she found it terrifying to think about. Life was so long. Could anyone truly stay with the same person for fifty or sixty years, keeping a harmonious, complete family until death?

Across the table, Chen Jubai considered her words carefully before responding.

“My mother was a doctor, and my father used to have a stable job as a civil servant. They met at a social event, developed feelings for each other, and got married. Then I was born.”

“Until I was nine, I remember them being deeply in love. My mother was busy with work, so my father often brought me along to deliver meals to her or pick her up from work. They rarely argued, and even when they did, my dad would always be the one to apologize first. I could see the love they had for each other in their eyes.”

“Then my mom got sick. From diagnosis to passing away, it was only six months. I was still a child, so my father quit his job to take care of her full-time, staying by her side day and night.”

As Chen Jubai spoke, his eyes reddened. He paused to compose himself before continuing.

“After she passed, my father fell into a long period of depression and couldn’t move on. He eventually got involved with some people who introduced him to gambling. It probably gave him a sense of escape, and he quickly became addicted.”

“I don’t hate him, nor do I have the right to. My mother’s departure hurt him no less than it hurt me.”

Song Wei bit her lip, understanding something deeper.

Whether it’s as a parent, a spouse, or a partner, no one can be perfect. “He” was first and foremost himself, with his own emotions and feelings.

But… Song Wei looked at him and asked, “What about his responsibilities? Isn’t that unfair to you?”

Chen Jubai didn’t answer. Instead, he picked up her cup and went to refill it with warm water.

When he returned, he finally responded to her earlier question. “I don’t know what marriage really is, or what’s good about it. But I do know that maybe, for the ten years my parents were married, they shared some beautiful memories together.”

Hearing this, Song Wei suddenly asked, “Do you want to get married?”

Meeting his gaze, she quickly added, “Do you look forward to marriage?”

Chen Jubai replied, “Yes.”

The conversation seemed to have grown more serious. His gaze was direct, and Song Wei, caught off guard, blushed faintly. She put down her chopsticks and said, “I think I’ll go lie down for a while.”

“Go ahead and rest. I’ll stay outside.”

He had just returned after a long car ride, and Song Wei didn’t have the heart to send him away. “Then take a break too. I’m feeling better now. If you decide to leave, just go ahead.”

“Alright.”

Song Wei, holding her kitten, retreated to her room. Once the bedroom door was closed, Chen Jubai averted his eyes, sitting silently at the dining table for seven or eight minutes.

The deep silence of the night was broken only by the faint hum of the refrigerator. Chen Jubai remained motionless, his figure still.

Eventually, the shrill sound of a phone ringing pierced the quiet. He pulled the phone from his pocket and unlocked it. The caller was Chu Qi, whose voice boomed loudly, “Hey, bro, you really went back?”

Chen Jubai walked onto the balcony with his phone, loosening his collar slightly before replying, “I did. I’ve already informed Mr. Bi. You can rest for the next couple of days.”

Chu Qi groaned in a mix of amusement and frustration. “You dragged me to work before the New Year was over, and now you run back as soon as we arrive in Shenzhen. Was it something urgent?” Then, as if realizing something, his tone turned serious. “Did something happen at home? Is it serious? If it’s urgent, focus on that—”

Chen Jubai interrupted him with a faint smile, “No, it’s fine. I’ll be back tomorrow.”

Chu Qi grew concerned again. “I heard Mr. Bi in Shenzhen isn’t the easiest to deal with. You’re skipping out for two days—are you prepared for the fallout?”

“I’m not.”

“…Really?”

Chen Jubai explained, “It’s the first workday after the New Year, and they were the ones who approached us for collaboration. That shows they’re under time pressure. Their competitors finalized a similar proposal before the holiday, and if they delay further, they risk losing upcoming government projects. I checked Zhirui’s financials—they don’t have much liquid capital. Right now, we’re their best fit as a partner.”

Switching to work mode, his voice was calm and confident, shedding the awkwardness he had displayed earlier while making brown sugar water.

Chu Qi grasped his point and sighed. Ultimately, Guangnian wasn’t their top choice. Being summoned to Shenzhen immediately after the holidays highlighted their need.

However, Guangnian needed this partnership too. The company wasn’t yet strong enough.

Chu Qi suddenly pieced it together. “Wait… did you do this on purpose? Playing hard to get by skipping the meeting, but showing up later to demonstrate sincerity?”

Chen Jubai dismissed the idea. “No, something really came up. They won’t underestimate us for one reason only.”

“Our technology is solid.”

“Exactly.”

Chu Qi, finally at ease, stretched out on the hotel bed. “Fine, you handle it. I’ll enjoy my last two days off.”

“Not yet. Did you bring your laptop? I wrote two basic modules on my way back. Test them for me.”

Chu Qi groaned, holding the phone away to silently curse before replying, “Fine, send them over.”

…

Later that night, the pain in Song Wei’s stomach eased. In her drowsiness, she vaguely heard the sound of the front door opening and closing. Then, she fell into a deep sleep.

But her sleep was restless. She dreamt of being chased by an unknown monster, running endlessly. Just as she escaped, she stumbled into a surreal and bizarre forest. Surrounding her were massive screens replaying scenes from her childhood, spinning like a carousel in constant motion.

Her mind felt overwhelmed. A flash of white light streaked across her vision, and she jolted awake.

The room was dim, her heart filled with an inexplicable void. The emptiness invaded every corner of her being.

After five or six minutes, she calmed down, wiped the sweat from her forehead, and got up to get some water.

To her surprise, Chen Jubai was still there.

The main lights were off. He sat at the dining table, his face illuminated by the soft glow of his laptop screen, his features sharp yet warm.

Hearing her stir, Chen Jubai looked up and removed his glasses. “Awake?”

His voice was steady, unhurried, like a gentle stream flowing over stones, resonating with the rhythm of her heart.

Song Wei stood still, silent, as if still trying to discern dream from reality.

He didn’t belong here.

This place had always been empty.

The man stood up, and for a brief moment, Song Wei’s eyes flickered with light.

As he approached, she caught a faint trace of a familiar scent—her own, lingering faintly, blurring the boundaries between them.

As she sniffed again, only a faint, untraceable coolness lingered in the air.

“What’s wrong?”

Song Wei tilted her head up, wanting to say something, but her mind hadn’t caught up yet. Her lips parted slightly. “I…”

He seemed to understand anyway and lowered his voice. “Had a nightmare?”

Song Wei nodded blankly.

“I’ll get you a glass of water.”

She stood there in a daze for a moment before following him into the kitchen.

Chen Jubai handed her the cup, and she took it. It was warm, the heat spreading from her fingertips to the rest of her body, reviving her from within.

She lowered her head, sipping the water slowly, and asked in a soft voice, “Why are you still here?”

“There’s some work I need to finish. Going back and forth wastes time.”

Song Wei’s gaze flicked to the tightly closed front door. “My parents haven’t come back, have they?”

“No.”

They stood facing each other in silence, the quiet weighing heavily between them.

The room, lit only by the faint light of dawn, felt stark and desolate.

If he weren’t here, on this difficult night, she would have been alone. There would have been no one to hand her this glass of water.

And in many nights to come, perhaps she would also be alone.

Clutching the warm cup, Song Wei asked cautiously, “Chen Jubai, why did you come back?”

He said nothing.

She pressed on. “Why haven’t you left?”

Still, no answer.

Song Wei looked up at him, her eyes veiled by a misty haze, emotions unreadable. “To you, what kind of person am I?”

Chen Jubai’s Adam’s apple bobbed slightly. With little experience to draw from, he could only answer honestly: “Someone I want to build a serious relationship with.”

“You’re satisfied with me?”

“Yes.”

“Then…” Song Wei stared at him, perhaps still remembering their conversation from a few hours ago. Without much thought, her words followed her mind. “Do you want to marry me?”

As soon as the words left her lips, she caught the flicker of shock in his eyes.

She herself was stunned, replaying what she had just said.

But after a brief pause, she spoke again, this time with a firmer tone. “Do you want to marry me?”

Their eyes met and locked. He took a moment, perhaps half a minute, to process her words but still hadn’t fully grasped them. Finally, he spoke stiffly. “Song Wei, this isn’t a trivial matter.”

Song Wei lowered her gaze.

It felt like she had been rejected.

Chen Jubai watched her quietly. Her eyes betrayed no clear emotion, leaving him uncertain of her thoughts.

The spark that had ignited in Song Wei’s heart gradually dimmed. She realized she might have been impulsive, and embarrassment led her to avert her gaze. “Alright, I’ll think about it again.”

She set down the cup and turned to leave.

Chen Jubai’s chest tightened abruptly, as if bound by ropes, his breath stifled, his thoughts a chaotic mess.

When she reached the bedroom door, he quickly strode forward and grabbed her slender wrist.

Song Wei turned back, their eyes locking. In the quiet, ink-black night, something unspoken flowed between them. Time seemed to freeze, and the air felt still.

His voice was clear. “Tomorrow’s a weekday. Should we get our marriage certificate first?”