The Cinnabar Mole of a Beijing Circle Tycoon

The first rays of sunlight of the new year streamed in through the sheer curtains of the penthouse suite.

When Shen Qingyao woke up, the seat next to her was empty, and she could faintly hear the sound of water coming from the bathroom.

She curled up in the blankets, staring blankly at the pigeon-blood red ring on her ring finger. The fireworks from last night and the image of him kneeling on one knee were like a sweet movie scene, replaying repeatedly in her mind.

Her fingertips traced the edges of the ring, and she couldn't suppress the smile on her lips.

When Meng Jiangyu came out, he saw her hugging the blanket and grinning foolishly.

He walked over, drying his wet hair, and bent down to pinch her cheek, his voice hoarse from his shower: "Awake? What are you thinking about, laughing like that?"

Shen Qingyao looked up at him, reached out and hooked her arm around his neck, her nose brushing against his chin, her hair brushing against his cool skin: "I was thinking about how someone's hands were shaking with nervousness yesterday."

Meng Jiangyu chuckled softly, then sat down on the edge of the bed, pulling her into his arms. He gently stroked her nose with his fingertips, his fingertips inadvertently brushing against her soft lips: "You dare to make fun of me?"

He lowered his head, his thin lips brushing against the top of her head, his warm breath caressing her earlobe. "Where do you want to go today? Afternoon tea at the Peninsula, or maybe we should go shopping in Central?"

Shen Qingyao shook her head, her eyes sparkling, and gently traced circles on the back of his neck with her fingers: "I don't want to go to those places."

She paused, her voice full of anticipation, "I want to ride the tram, and slowly ride it through every street of Hong Kong."

He raised an eyebrow, somewhat surprised: "Hmm? Why do you like riding the tram?"

"Because I like to look at still life and the atmosphere of everyday life, it's very comforting."

He looked at the expectation in Shen Qingyao's eyes, bent down to smooth her hair, and ran his fingertips along her earlobe: "Okay, I'll do whatever you say."

The afternoon sun, a warm golden hue unique to Hong Kong Island, carried the salty dampness of the sea breeze and felt warm and comforting on my shoulders.

Instead of sitting in the upper observation seats, the two chose seats at the back of the lower level.

As the bus started moving, it jolted slightly, and the carriage was filled with the sounds of tourists chatting and local grandmothers chatting in Cantonese, creating a lively and bustling atmosphere.

Shen Qingyao sat by the window, her elbows resting on the windowsill, her fingertips gently tapping the glass as she watched the street scene outside slowly recede into the distance.

The tea restaurants along the street have faded signs, the egg waffle stalls are steaming, students in school uniforms are chasing after buses with their backpacks, and the sweet aroma of milk tea and pineapple buns is in the wind.

She turned to look at Meng Jiangyu beside her, her eyes full of curiosity, and shook his wrist: "Look, the pineapple buns at that shop smell so good, shall we go try some later?"

Meng Jiangyu didn't look out the window; his gaze remained fixed on her the whole time. He watched her hair, which was dyed golden by the sunlight, and the way her eyes curved when she saw the little dog by the roadside. He chuckled softly, reached out and tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear, deliberately pinching her cheek lightly with his fingertips: "If you want to eat, we'll go."

His fingers slid down, grasping her hand, their fingers intertwined, his fingertips caressing her knuckles. "How come I never noticed before that you liked these little things from the streets so much?"

Shen Qingyao's cheeks flushed slightly. She turned her head away, but couldn't help but smile, gently scratching his palm with her fingers: "The warmth of everyday life is what soothes the human heart."

She paused, then moved closer to him, pressing her shoulder tightly against his arm, and slowly leaned her head against the back of his shoulder. "It feels so good."

Meng Jiangyu's palms were warm, his fingertips calloused. He gently squeezed her hand back, tightening his grip to bring her closer to him.

His voice was low, mingling with the rumble of the bus, like a private whisper of love, his lips brushing against the top of her hair: "For me, anything is fine as long as I'm with you. Seeing you is more meaningful than seeing any scenery."

The bus slowly drove from street to street, with no destination and no timetable.

Sunlight streamed in through the cracks in the window, falling on their clasped hands and on the pigeon-blood red ring on her ring finger, refracting into tiny dappled patterns of light.

Shen Qingyao looked at the setting sun outside the window, snuggled closer to him, wrapped her arms around his waist, and pressed her cheek against his sweater, clearly smelling the crisp cedar scent on him: "Meng Jiangyu, I don't think I've ever seen a city so slowly before. I always felt like life was passing by in a rush, writing papers and rushing to finish reports."

Meng Jiangyu lowered his head and kissed the top of her head. He tightened his arms, holding her even closer, so that she was completely nestled in his embrace. His chin rested on the crown of her head, and his voice was incredibly gentle: "From now on, I will accompany you to ride buses all over the world and watch the sunset in every city."

"You said it, I want to record it."

Shen Qingyao took out her phone and started recording. "Action."

Meng Jiangyu chuckled as he drove Shen Qingyao, "I, Meng Jiangyu, promised Shen Qingyao that I would accompany her on buses all over the world and watch the sunset in every city."

The tram stopped at the intersection and then slowly started moving again.

The setting sun outside the window gradually sank, dyeing the horizon a gentle orange-red.

The lights in the carriage came on, a warm yellow, casting long, long shadows of the two people.

The old lady sitting next to me was chatting in Cantonese, her voice soft and gentle, like a tender song.

Shen Qingyao closed her eyes, listening to Meng Jiangyu's steady heartbeat, and the smile on her lips was so gentle it was almost overflowing.

Meng Jiangyu looked down at the person in his arms, his fingertips gently tracing the contours of her profile, his gaze so tender as if he wanted to freeze this slow moment forever.

As the sun set, Meng Jiangyu took Shen Qingyao's hand and walked into a narrow alley.

At the entrance of the alley hangs a faded wooden plaque with the words "Fu Ji" engraved in gold. When the wind blows, the copper bells under the plaque jingle.

"This is a century-old establishment," he said, smoothing her scarf that had been ruffled by the wind, his fingertips hooking around hers and dangling gently. "The taste is very authentic."

Pushing open the door, you're greeted by a warm and inviting atmosphere.

An old-fashioned ceiling fan turned slowly, and a radio played old Cantonese songs. Several wooden tables were filled with people, their laughter mingling with the aroma of tea and snacks, making one feel warm and cozy.

The two chose a corner booth. Meng Jiangyu familiarly took the menu and handed it to Shen Qingyao: "Take a look and see what you want to eat. The signature char siu, roast goose, pineapple bun, and Hong Kong-style milk tea are all worth trying."

Shen Qingyao looked down at the menu, her fingertip pointing to the "Iced Pineapple Bun with Hot Pot" section, her eyes sparkling: "This, this, this, and this char siu rice, it looks so delicious."

Meng Jiangyu smiled and nodded, then called over a waiter and announced the names of the dishes. His Cantonese was so fluent and clear that Shen Qingyao looked up at him in surprise: "You can speak this too?"

He raised an eyebrow, reached out and pinched her cheek, his fingertips brushing against her flushed skin: "The more you listen, the more you'll learn."