The Cinnabar Mole of a Beijing Circle Tycoon

The moonlight outside the window had somehow disappeared into the clouds, and the room was quiet, with only their long, drawn-out breaths remaining.

Shen Qingyao's fingertips gently traced his collarbone, her voice as soft as cotton: "Meng Jiangyu..."

"Mmm." He responded softly, his chin resting on the top of her head, his voice tinged with weariness, yet incredibly gentle. "Sleep."

She hummed in agreement, snuggled closer to him, and soon succumbed to drowsiness, her breathing gradually becoming steady.

Meng Jiangyu looked down at the peaceful sleeping face of the person in his arms, his dark eyes softening completely. He tightened his arms, placed a light kiss on the top of her head, and slowly closed his eyes as well.

The night was thick, the quilt was soft, and the room was peaceful.

The afternoon sunlight shone through the carved window frames, casting dappled gold leaf patterns that fell onto the brocade quilt.

Shen Qingyao was awakened by the clear chirping of birds outside the window. As she regained consciousness, her fingertips were still nestled in Meng Jiangyu's warm palm.

She moved her fingertips, and the person beside her woke up. He stretched out his long arm and pulled her back into his embrace, his chin nuzzling against the top of her head, his voice still hoarse from just waking up: "Awake?"

Shen Qingyao hummed in agreement, her nose brushing against the skin of his neck, catching a faint scent of shower gel.

She reached for her phone on the bedside table, and the screen lit up, displaying a WeChat message.

It was a message from Xu Huihui, the little red dot in the group chat was jumping: "Sisters, my flight is at 1 o'clock, I'm already at the airport! I'll bring you local specialties when I get back~"

The group chat instantly buzzed with messages wishing her a safe journey.

Shen Qingyao hovered her fingertip over the screen, a slight smile playing on her lips, and typed a reply: "My dear Huihui, life is always full of unexpected turns, just like Cao Xueqin's line, 'Spring willows and flowers bloom endlessly in the painted pavilion.'"

Xu Huihui's eyes reddened as she read the message. "Thank you, Yao Yao."

-

The wind at the end of December carried the chill of the capital, swirling the last vestiges of golden leaf from the ginkgo leaves and scattering them across the French windows.

Shen Qingyao's desk was covered with printed papers, all of which were cutting-edge literature on AI healing. She circled the English abstracts in red pen, her brows sometimes furrowing and sometimes relaxing.

She typed keywords into the search box on the computer screen, paused her fingertips on the touchpad, and scanned the screen up and down.

The twilight outside the window was quite deep, and the traffic below formed a river of lights.

She looked up when she heard the noise and saw Meng Jiangyu leaning against the door frame, holding a cup of hot milk in his hand, the wisps of white steam blurring his features.

"Is it settled?" His voice was deep and gentle.

Shen Qingyao nodded, her eyes shining like stars: "Yes, the application and ethical boundaries of AI emotional healing in special groups should be feasible."

Meng Jiangyu walked over and placed the milk beside her. As he bent down, the hem of his cashmere sweater brushed against the back of her hand, carrying a crisp cedar scent.

He looked down at her research proposal, his fingertip lightly touching the words "ethical boundaries": "The angle is novel. If you need data support, I'll have Yunyi Labs provide it to you."

Shen Qingyao looked up at him, her nose almost touching his chin, and laughed, "Mr. Meng, are you going to give me special treatment?"

He flicked her forehead with his finger, the touch as light as a feather: "It's only natural to do something convenient for your own child."

"Thank you, Mr. Meng."

"You're too kind, Mr. Shen."

-

On New Year's Eve in Hong Kong, the damp wind carried the salty scent of the sea.

Meng Jiangyu's penthouse suite faces Victoria Harbour, with floor-to-ceiling glass walls framing the entire dazzling sea view as a flowing painting.

Shen Qingyao, wearing a pink cashmere sweater, walked barefoot on the cashmere carpet, her fingertips touching the glass, watching the distant cruise ships slowly pass by, their lights shattering on the water like scattered diamonds.

The countdown clock chimed from the television. Meng Jiangyu put down his wine glass, embraced her from behind, rested his chin on the top of her head, tightened his arms, and encircled her completely in his embrace.

His body heat wafted through her shirt, and Shen Qingyao could hear his steady heartbeat, which gradually synchronized with hers through his chest.

"Are you ready?" he asked in a low voice.

Before the words were even finished, the first firework shot into the night sky, exploding into a magnificent golden-red burst.

Shen Qingyao exclaimed in surprise and turned to look, her eyes reflecting the starlight.

Fireworks burst forth in clusters against the inky sky, purple, pink, and silver, rising and falling in waves, scalding countless holes into the night sky above Victoria Harbour.

The sea breeze carries the scent of cooking fires and a slightly intoxicating warmth.

She was so engrossed in watching that the last cluster of regular fireworks faded away, and the sky briefly fell silent.

Just then, an extremely bright light pierced the night sky. It wasn't an ordinary firework, but a line of clear words, golden and red, shining brightly against the inky sky: "Shen Qingyao, will you marry me?"

Shen Qingyao's breathing suddenly stopped, and her pupils dilated sharply.

She stared blankly up at the words hanging in mid-air, like a vow written by a god.

Before she could react, countless points of light rose from the sea—drones, arranged in a heart shape, slowly moving to surround the words in the center.

The embrace behind me loosened.

Shen Qingyao turned her head and saw Meng Jiangyu kneeling on one knee on the carpet.

He looked up at her, his usually composed and strategic eyes now showing a hint of barely perceptible tension.

He reached into his pocket, pulled out a velvet box, and when he opened it, the bright red glow of the unroasted pigeon blood was almost dazzling.

13.14 carats, perfectly cut, its color flows with a rich, blood-like hue amidst the fireworks and drone lights outside the window, yet it is also as warm and gentle as solidified rosy clouds.

"Shen Qingyao," his voice was a few decibels deeper than usual, with a slight, almost imperceptible tremor, yet every word was clear, "from the first moment I saw you, I knew that I had chosen you for this lifetime."

He held the ring up to her, his gaze so focused it was as if he were looking at the whole world. "Only you can fill the void in my heart. From now on, year after year, I want to watch the fireworks over Victoria Harbour with you, wait for the snow in Beijing together, and make every ordinary day as passionate as possible."

"Shen Qingyao," his voice was deeper than the sea breeze, a barely perceptible tremor at the end, "marry me, okay?"

"Shen Qingyao," his gaze locked onto the corners of her reddened eyes, each word clear and distinct, like a promise whispered in his heart, "marry me, okay?"

"Shen Qingyao." He called her name softly first, his Adam's apple bobbing, before continuing, his voice terribly hoarse, "Will you marry me?"

The drone's lights were still flashing, and the heart-shaped formation hung steadily in the night sky, forming an unforgettable scene with the words of the marriage proposal.

Shen Qingyao's eyes slowly reddened, and tears fell, landing on the back of his hand, burning his heart.

Her voice had a heavy nasal tone, and the last syllable trembled slightly, yet she spoke each word clearly and forcefully: "Okay!"

She sniffled, tears streaming down her face, but a forced smile played on her lips as she repeated herself, a choked sob mingling with a forced laugh: "Okay!"

Meng Jiangyu's Adam's apple bobbed violently, and his eyes instantly shone with light.

She took a small step forward, reached out and wrapped her arms around his neck, forehead to forehead, and with a sob in her voice, but with unwavering determination, said for the third time, "Okay!"

Meng Jiangyu carefully slipped the ring onto her middle finger; it fit perfectly. "Happy New Year, my fiancée!"

The ring was pressed against her skin, cool and refreshing, a very strange sensation.

He stood up, pulled her into a tight embrace, and lowered his head to kiss her lips.

The drones outside the window were still circling, and the embers of fireworks fell on the sea, turning into tiny specks of light.

"Happy New Year, fiancé!" Shen Qingyao replied.