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Chen Shuoyin didn’t have the courage to confront Pei Yu with her underwear in hand. Once that thin layer of pretense was broken, no one could be sure if what lay on the other side was a cold, dark abyss or a warm, sunlit sanctuary. She acted as if it were a coincidence and used the daily necessities he provided without guilt.
When she stepped out of the bedroom, the faint aroma of food and spices lingered in the air.
She moved toward the kitchen. The white steam billowed straight up toward the range hood. Pei Yu, tall and well-built, stood at the stove. His black dress shirt was tucked neatly into his waist, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing sinewy arms with prominent veins. A white apron was tied around his torso, and he held a pan in one hand, flipping its contents with practiced ease.
He was so focused that he didn’t notice Chen Shuoyin standing by the door, watching him for a long while.
His cooking skills were on par with his technical abilities. In this regard, there was no denying that Pei Yu was a man suitable for marriage.
Chen Shuoyin played along and clapped her hands twice. He turned at the sound, his gaze lingering on her upper body for a few seconds. “It fits well.”
She instinctively crossed her arms in front of her chest. She hadn’t brought it up, yet he had to point it out. “This set is my style. I’ll take it with me later. How much is it? I’ll buy it.”
Pei Yu was well-versed in her reactions. “I have the means to gift a few sets of clothes to my lifesaver. Asking you for money? Do I seem that petty?”
“Wow.” Chen Shuoyin smirked and gave him a thumbs-up.
“I made a few different things. Try them.” He carried the dishes to the table and pulled out a chair for her to sit.
Seven or eight dishes were laid out on the table—pasta, buns, dumplings, French toast, sandwiches, grilled cold noodles… a mix of Chinese and Western cuisine, all carefully prepared.
Chen Shuoyin could tell he had gone all out as a host and gave him face by eating most of it.
After the meal, Pei Yu took charge of washing the dishes. With nothing else to do, Chen Shuoyin grew bored. “Can I borrow your computer? I need to handle some post-holiday work assignments.”
Pei Yu placed a dish into the drying rack and hesitated for a moment. The clink of porcelain echoed in the quiet kitchen.
Noticing his reaction, Chen Shuoyin asked, “What’s wrong?”
“I’ll get it for you in a bit,” he said after a pause of several seconds.
His unusual behavior struck her as odd. Computers and phones were personal items, often filled with private matters. Handing them over was akin to stripping bare in front of someone. She had no intention of prying and realized she had been presumptuous. “If it’s inconvenient, forget it. Just lend me a few books instead.”
She hoped the rain would stop soon so she could go home.
Pei Yu removed his gloves. “It’s fine.”
He retrieved his laptop from the guest room and handed it to her. “No password.”
Sitting off to the side, Chen Shuoyin opened a browser to search for materials. Behind her, Pei Yu answered a call without avoiding her presence.
He didn’t put it on speakerphone, but his words were clear enough for her to hear. On the other end, Zhou Qi said, “Brother, he sent the photos over. I’ll pay him the remaining balance this afternoon.”
“Okay. Edit it properly and schedule a release time with Zhu Xi. Continue sending supplies to the hospital wherever they’re needed.”
“Brother, there’s one more thing,” Zhou Qi hesitated before continuing. “Tanzhu TV has invited you to a new variety show. It’s a slow-paced, healing-style program. Your current film will wrap up in a month and a half, and your schedule will be relatively free afterward. Do you want to accept it?”
Pei Yu didn’t answer directly. Instead, he said, “Zhou Qi, listen carefully. From now on, before signing any contracts, no matter who the partner is, have a lawyer review it first. Only submit it to me after confirming there are no issues.”
Zhou Qi, a top university graduate and a meticulous worker, asked, “Did something go wrong with this contract?”
“Mm. It’s not your fault. Just pay more attention when screening partners in the future.” Pei Yu ended the topic. “Put the variety show proposal aside for now. I’ll think about it.”
Hearing that, Zhou Qi didn’t press further.
Chen Shuoyin had no interest in his career plans and remained focused on gathering her materials.
As time passed into the evening, she idly opened Minesweeper and played a few rounds alone.
Unfortunately, her luck was terrible. Every click set off an explosion. Frustrated, she closed the game and leaned back, turning her head—only to find Pei Yu watching her, who knew for how long.
“Don’t you have anything to do?” He held a script but hadn’t turned a single page.
Pei Yu shook his head, his brows lightly furrowed. “This scene feels familiar.”
“Have you been having dreams again lately?”
Chen Shuoyin rubbed her nose and averted her gaze. “No, why?”
Pei Yu didn’t respond. She felt unnerved under his stare, her fingers unconsciously sliding the mouse. She accidentally clicked on an unfamiliar program, and a blank page began loading.
Three or four folders expanded on the screen, each labeled with musical rest symbols.
She guessed they were his personal collections and panicked, trying to close them. Instead, she misclicked again, and the folders opened further, revealing several stacked photos.
Even without examining them closely, she could tell—they were all of her.
A rest symbol in music signifies a temporary pause. Different note values represent varying lengths of silence.
As she skimmed the photos, a flood of memories crashed against her heart.
They were all taken from an outsider’s perspective during the period after their biggest argument, when they had ignored each other for a long time.
Shaken, Chen Shuoyin turned to Pei Yu. “I didn’t mean to open this, but don’t you think you owe me an explanation?”
Pei Yu seemed completely unfazed, as if he had long anticipated this moment. “Explain what?”
His nonchalant response made her regret even asking. Her phone was filled with countless photos and videos of Pei Yu—not out of fondness, but to hold leverage over him and protect her own interests.
How had she been so naive to think Pei Yu wouldn’t have the same idea?
“Let’s make a fair trade.” Her bright eyes narrowed cunningly. “We delete all the photos and videos of each other from our computers. From now on, we mind our own business and settle all disputes. How about it?”
Pei Yu’s reply was crisp. “Not interested.”
“Why not?” Chen Shuoyin was annoyed. “Don’t you think it’s weird? We claim to hate each other, yet we hoard pictures and videos of one another.”
“Weird?” Pei Yu chuckled as if he’d heard something amusing. “You want to play the ‘let’s forget each other’ act? Too cliché.”
For years, their relationship had been defined by mutual taunts and opposition. Even now, when speaking civilly, she could still hear the mockery in his tone.
His words confirmed it—he would never let go.
A cold chill crept up her spine. “If you won’t delete them, I will. I don’t want my future boyfriend misunderstanding.”
Pei Yu’s expression stiffened briefly before his smile disappeared. “You’re still thinking about him.”
“If not him, then someone else.” She pushed the laptop between them and looked at him resolutely. “You can’t take away my right to love.”
Pei Yu leaned closer. “You really want to date someone?”
With her chin lifted stubbornly, she retorted, “I would’ve been happily married by now if it weren’t for you.”
His smirk faded. “You really believe that?”
Their tangled emotions hovered between tension and inevitability.
This was far from over.