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Ming Zhao admitted that she wasn’t particularly kind. When she heard Aunt Lin mention that Zhou Tingyun and the Zhou family were actually not on good terms and didn’t have much emotional connection, her mood lifted considerably.
Holding the plate Aunt Lin had given her, with a small bowl of sweet-scented white fungus and lotus seeds, she walked up to the study door and knocked lightly.
There was no response from inside, so she pushed the door open.
The study hadn’t changed much; it still had the same black, white, and gray color scheme. The desk still held the little piggy bank she had made in kindergarten.
The man, leaning against the back of the chair, had his eyes closed. It was unclear whether he was resting his eyes or had actually fallen asleep, but the faint dark circles under his eyes stood out against his pale skin.
Ming Zhao placed the bowl down and let her gaze linger on his face, carefully examining him.
Zhou Tingyun was the most handsome person Ming Zhao had ever seen. His high nose bridge, deep-set eyes, and dignified, jade-like temperament gave him an air of elegance and steadiness.
She pinched her own cheek, no wonder she had always felt like they didn’t look alike at all.
Looking around for a mirror to make a careful comparison, she heard his husky voice.
“…Ming Zhao?”
Turning around, she saw that he had woken up. She walked over to the nearby sofa and sat down, the lace trim of her sleepwear spreading out on the black velvet blanket.
“Mom asked me to go to the birthday banquet with you. Do you know what Grandpa Zhou likes?”
His eyes gradually cleared, as though he was just coming to his senses. He lightly pressed his temples, then spoke softly, “It’s fine if you don’t go. I can just tell Mom.”
Perfect timing to go with Lin Zhiwei for the spa, Ming Zhao nodded happily, “Then I’ll just go back to sleep.”
His gaze lingered on her.
“Did you apply the medicine after your bath?”
Ming Zhao was taken aback and instinctively looked down at her calf.
The swelling had gone down considerably, but the bruise was still very dark.
It was quite obvious, but Ming Zheng hadn’t noticed.
Feeling a bit down and reluctant to wash her hands again after applying the medicine, she didn’t want to apply it.
“Ming Zhao,” the man said softly.
Ming Zhao pouted, sitting on the sofa and lifting her sleepwear, “Then you can help me apply it.”
Zhou Tingyun had originally just intended to supervise her while she applied the medicine, but the soft, smooth skin before him caught his eye.
He quickly averted his gaze, choosing not to say anything.
“Is this your attitude as an older brother?” she complained. “You brought up that story about washing the bedsheets from who knows when, but now you’re refusing to apply the medicine?”
“Forget the medicine. It’s so painful, I’m dying here. Go find another sister.”
“…”
Not long after, Ming Zhao, feeling satisfied, placed her leg over Zhou Tingyun’s lap.
She was pleased now, propping her elbow on the cushion and smiling as she rested her chin on her hand. “My dear brother, you must miss me too, right?”
Zhou Tingyun glanced at her but didn’t respond.
“What’s so hard to admit?” The girl shook her head smugly. “Even Aunt Lin told me that some poor soul runs to my room every day, missing me so much that they can’t even sleep… Ah, why are you hitting me?!”
Ming Zhao covered her forehead, looking wronged.
Zhou Tingyun’s voice was cold: “Is that how you use ‘missing someone by looking at an object’?”
“Cough, cough…” She straightened up seriously. “That’s not the point.”
Then, she reached out and poked his shoulder. “The point is—look, it’s still our family that treats you well, right?”
“Have you considered changing your surname and joining our household?”
Zhou Tingyun’s gaze remained fixed on the injury, not crossing any boundaries.
“Ordering me to help you apply medicine is considered ‘treating me well’?”
Ming Zhao blinked. “Those who want to help me apply medicine could line up from here to France. This is your honor, alright?”
He nodded. “Mm, my honor.”
“So, what about changing your household registration?”
Her eyes sparkled as she rested her chin on his shoulder, coquettishly breathing out, her soft breath mingling with the sweet scent that seemed to weave a web, almost trapping him in place.
Zhou Tingyun capped the ointment, then carefully wrapped the injury with gauze to prevent it from rubbing against the nightgown and blanket. He patted her leg. “Alright, go to sleep.”
… Again!
Ming Zhao gritted her teeth.
Watching her storm off with an annoyed back, Zhou Tingyun’s calm gaze showed no emotion.
Outside the window, the rain poured steadily, bringing the chill of the autumn night. The calendar on the desk had somehow quietly flipped back to 2020.
Eighteen-year-old Ming Zhao had just gotten drunk at her graduation party, her face flushed and her head not quite clear.
She furrowed her brows, unable to understand why the person who grew up alongside her had turned into someone else’s brother, why the person who had promised never to leave her had, in the end, slowly stopped coming home—just like her parents.
Ming Zhao wanted to question him, to vent, to yank his hair, and to scratch his face.
So, she wobbled upstairs and pushed open the door to the study.
The warm light enveloped the room, a faint layer casting shadows on his cheek, with the tips of his closed eyelids creating a soft, subtle shade.
Ming Zhao, slightly drunk, staggered in front of him, frowning as she stared at him for a moment.
Then, she lifted her leg slowly, placing her hand on his shoulder, and with some difficulty, began to climb onto him, eventually sitting right on top of him.
The cold fabric of his suit pants pressed against her skin, dispelling some of the warmth.
She took a deep breath, paused for a moment, then reached up and tugged at his collar, her brows furrowing as she muttered something under her breath.
The scent of alcohol mixed with a rich fragrance, and the soft, warm sensation on her legs felt like a light cloud drifting into his embrace.
Zhou Tingyun opened his eyes, and right before him was a flushed face, her beautiful eyes clouded with drunkenness, like amber wine shimmering in a glass.
The white shirt embroidered with the Jinli school crest clung to her body, damp from the spilled alcohol, as if a thin layer of milk covered her skin. The dark blue hem of her skirt barely concealed her thighs.
Seeing this, Zhou Tingyun’s face darkened. “Ming Zhao, did I ever tell you not to drink…”
“Zhou Tingyun, you’re such a #@&%… jerk!”
“…”
Zhou Tingyun raised his hand and rubbed his forehead.
The study door was wide open, and they could even hear the faint conversations from downstairs. Her parents could come up at any moment.
She was so drunk that she couldn’t even speak clearly, but she kept climbing onto him and rubbing against him.
“Zhao…”
“You’re not allowed to move!”
He was pushed back by Ming Zhao.
It was pointless to reason with a drunk, so Zhou Tingyun could only gently coax her, asking her to obediently sit obediently on the opposite sofa.
But it backfired.
Ming Zhao firmly believed that he just wanted to get rid of her as a burden. She clung to him, scratching and biting him, causing the situation to spiral out of control.
In the struggle, the girl, unable to bear the pain any longer, cried out as her wrist was grabbed. Zhou Tingyun immediately released her and covered her mouth.
A concerned voice from Aunt Lin called out, “Zhao… Zhao?”
“It’s fine, Aunt Lin.”
The palm, now stained with lip gloss, slowly became soaked by the humid air, and the sweet fragrance seeped through the gaps between his fingers.
The man’s voice was steady, “She’s just messing around.”
Their bodies, pressed close together, grew warmer. The hem of her skirt was lifted haphazardly, and the hand that had been meant to keep her from falling inadvertently crossed the line, resting on the warm skin beneath the skirt.
Aunt Lin’s footsteps faded into the distance.
His fingertips brushed against the lace edge, his gaze icy and unreadable.
“Ming Zhao, get down.”