The Cinnabar Mole of a Beijing Circle Tycoon

The lights of an electric scooter came from the far end of the alley, and Shen Qingyao slowly opened her eyes.

Mr. and Mrs. Shen got off the mahjong table, preparing to go home and sleep.

The two parked their electric scooter at the entrance of the residential area and walked home side by side, talking in hushed tones.

A few minutes later, the lights in the house came on, and half an hour later, they went off again, showing no intention of coming out to look for anyone.

The warm air in the carriage made Shen Qingyao's eyelashes tremble slightly, and she slowly closed her eyes.

After a long silence, she spoke softly, her voice hoarse from just waking up, yet as light as a sigh: "You see, they really didn't... look for me."

Meng Jiangyu didn't speak, but simply reached out and gently covered her hand resting on her knee.

The warmth of my palm seeped through the thin cashmere blanket and traveled over me little by little.

"Ayu, I want to sleep," Shen Qingyao said calmly.

"Okay." Meng Jiangyu started the car and drove to Alila.

As night deepened, the floor-to-ceiling windows of the Alila Hotel room shut out the chill from outside, bathing the room in warm yellow light and creating a tranquil atmosphere.

She went straight to the bathroom after entering the room, slamming the door shut with a bit too much force.

Meng Jiangyu stood still, his gaze sweeping over the tightly closed door, his eyes filled with worry.

He pulled his suitcase to the dressing room, hung his clothes neatly on the hangers, and placed his slippers at the bathroom door.

Soon, the sound of the showerhead being turned on came from the bathroom.

Hot water poured down, splashing onto the tiles and creating tiny droplets. The rising steam quickly spread, blurring the reflection on the frosted glass.

Shen Qingyao stood in the flowing water, tilting her head back, letting the hot water pour down from her head, flowing down her hair, across her cheeks, down her neck, and over her shoulders.

My face was covered with a dense layer of water droplets, making it impossible to tell whether they were water droplets or tears.

She raised her hand, her fingertips tracing across her burning skin and touching the corner of her eye.

The scene I just witnessed outside my house came flooding back to me again.

The parents pushed open the door and entered. The lights in the house turned on and off without the slightest pause, as if their daughter was nothing more than a dispensable decoration in the house.

Her heart felt like it was being squeezed by an invisible hand, the pain making it hard for her to breathe.

She slowly curled her fingers and pressed them against the cold tile wall, her shoulders trembling slightly uncontrollably.

The rushing water drowned out the faint, almost broken sob.

The footsteps outside the door stopped at the bathroom door and then quietly left.

Half an hour later, the rushing water finally stopped.

The bathroom door was gently pulled open a crack, and warm, humid air wafted out, carrying a faint scent of gardenias.

Shen Qingyao was wrapped in a beige bath towel, with a shower cap loosely placed on top of her hair. A few strands of damp hair clung to her neck, making her skin appear even whiter.

She walked barefoot on the carpet, her steps light, like a weightless feather.

Meng Jiangyu looked up at the sound, and the screen of his phone went dark.

He got up and came to Shen Qingyao. Without saying much, he simply reached out, placed his palm on the back of her hand, and led her to the velvet stool in front of the dressing table.

Shen Qingyao obediently sat down, her back straight, yet revealing a fragile softness.

She stared blankly at her reflection in the mirror, her pupils unable to reflect even a trace of the neon lights outside the window, like a meticulously crafted porcelain doll that had lost its soul.

The hair dryer emitted a low hum.

Meng Jiangyu stood behind her, a warm breeze brushing against the top of her hair.

His movements were very gentle; his fingertips ran through the strands of hair with just the right amount of force, combing out the knots one by one.

The hair strands gradually stretched out in the warm breeze, taking on a faint warmth, and the water droplets at the ends of the hair were gradually dried.

He didn't speak; the only sounds in the room were the hairdryer and the unspoken understanding between the two.

He didn't turn off the hairdryer until the last strand of hair was completely dry, and then placed it on the shelf next to him.

"Honey, I'm going to wash up."

Shen Qingyao didn't move, still staring at the mirror, until Meng Jiangyu's footsteps faded into the distance, then she slowly turned her head to look at the French windows.

She got up and walked to the sofa, sitting down with her gaze fixed on the night view outside the window.

Meng Jiangyu went into the bathroom, and the sound of running water pattered for ten minutes before falling silent.

A moment later, he came out wearing a dark gray bathrobe, his hair still damp.

He moved quietly and sat down on the sofa next to her, at a distance that was neither too close nor too far.

Night fell, casting long shadows of the two. The light from the window fell on Shen Qingyao's profile, outlining a slender figure.

Meng Jiangyu didn't look at her; his gaze was fixed on the flowing neon lights outside the window. His voice was low and soothing: "Baby, it's late."

Shen Qingyao's eyelashes fluttered, but she continued to gaze out the window, her fingertips unconsciously curling up.

"I am their child too, why don't they love me?" She finally turned her head and looked at Meng Jiangyu.

"Am I not obedient enough?" Shen Qingyao asked, somewhat flustered. "Am I not worthy of being loved?"

Meng Jiangyu reached out and gently tucked the stray hairs that had fallen across her cheek behind her ear, his fingertips brushing against her slightly cool earlobe: "It's not your fault, baby."

Shen Qingyao's shoulders trembled slightly, and her eyes suddenly reddened.

She turned to look at Meng Jiangyu, the tears welling up in her eyes finally spilling over, her voice thick with a nasal tone: "Why is that?"

Meng Jiangyu placed his palm on the back of her hand, his touch gentle yet firm. "Baby, favoritism doesn't need a reason."

"It turns out that not all parents love their children," Shen Qingyao said with a self-deprecating laugh.

He pulled her closer to him, letting her lean on his shoulder, his voice low and tender: "Baby, family isn't everything in life. Don't get trapped in this."

"Besides, my dear, your mother's love for you back then was genuine, and you deserve to be loved. It's just that she loves your younger brother more now."

"Although it is indeed very sad, you still have love, you still have friendship, and you have a lot of money in the future. You can do whatever you want."

"When you were little, you longed for family affection and the love of your family because you were young and your family was your whole life. But, my dear, you are growing up now, and your life also includes friendship and love."

"Don't let the unfulfilled desires of your childhood haunt you for the rest of your life."

Meng Jiangyu gently comforted the injured girl, "Baby, you have to admit that life can't be too perfect, and not getting what you want isn't necessarily a regret."

"The regrets in life are just the prelude to fulfillment. Time will filter out what doesn't belong to you and bring what is truly right for you."

Shen Qingyao listened quietly to Meng Jiangyu's words of comfort, his gentle voice entering her mind.

"These grand principles did comfort me, but I'm still very sad."

"It's normal to feel sad; decluttering is a process of breaking free from the cocoon and being reborn."

"Baby, you are really good. You have good values ​​and are well-mannered. You are optimistic and brave. You are kind, interesting and have a good personality. You are polite and sincere. You are generous, considerate of others' feelings, insightful about others' difficulties, and provide emotional value. You cherish all relationships. Anyone who is with me will be happy. It is not your loss if anyone loses you. You are good to others not because they are good, but because you are a good person yourself."

"You will be fine without anyone by your side, Chunshan, hold your head high, I hope you will stop being so self-deprecating."