The Cinnabar Mole of a Beijing Circle Tycoon

When Shen Qingyao woke up, the sunlight outside the window was shining through the thin curtains, casting a warm patch of light on the floor.

She moved her fingers and realized that her whole body felt like it was falling apart; even lifting her arms slightly made her sore.

Only then did she belatedly realize something, her cheeks flushed instantly, and she muttered "beast" under her breath, but her voice carried a soft and shy tone that she herself didn't even realize.

The spot next to him had long since lost its warmth, indicating that Meng Jiangyu had been up for quite some time.

She slowly sat up, supporting her lower back. The blanket slipped off her shoulders, revealing red marks on her collarbone. She quickly pulled the blanket back up, her ear tips burning even hotter.

After a while, she finally got out of bed, but stumbled as soon as her feet touched the ground. She had to lean against the wall to steady herself before slowly making her way to the walk-in closet.

I finally breathed a sigh of relief after putting on a loose cotton loungewear set with the neckline completely covered.

Looking at myself in the mirror while washing up, I noticed a faint bluish tint under my eyes, but my complexion looked more radiant than usual.

She frowned at herself in the mirror, then couldn't help but smile.

When she came downstairs, the living room was quiet. The maids were gently wiping the ornaments. When they saw her come down, they all nodded respectfully: "Miss Shen."

"Where is Meng Jiangyu?" Her voice was still a little hoarse, and she asked somewhat unnaturally.

"The master is in the study!" Zhang Ma replied with a smile, her tone gentle and cheerful.

Shen Qingyao nodded, walked to the sofa and sat down, looking out the window at the pomegranate tree in the yard. Several red lantern-like fruits hung from the branches, and sunlight filtered through the leaves, falling at her feet, warm enough to make her sleepy.

Aunt Zhang came out of the kitchen carrying a tray, her face beaming with a loving smile: "Miss, the master specifically instructed that as soon as you wake up, the rock sugar bird's nest, as well as your favorite crystal shrimp dumplings and red bean paste, should be brought up. They're all freshly made, so please eat them while they're hot."

The bird's nest in the white porcelain bowl on the tray is crystal clear and has a faint sweet fragrance.

The crystal shrimp dumplings have thin wrappers and generous fillings, revealing the pinkish color of the shrimp meat.

The red bean paste was cooked until smooth and creamy, and then sprinkled with a layer of delicate osmanthus petals.

Looking at these, Shen Qingyao felt a warmth in her heart: "Thank you!"

Aunt Zhang added with a smile, "The master said you didn't sleep well last night, so he wants you to eat more to replenish your energy."

Shen Qingyao paused as she picked up the spoon, her ear tips turning slightly red. She lowered her head, scooped up a spoonful of bird's nest, and put it in her mouth. The sweet and smooth texture spread across her tongue.

Sunlight streamed through the glass window and fell on the food, so bright it was almost dazzling.

The afternoon sun, with its perfect warmth, filtered through the sycamore leaves in the courtyard, casting dappled light on the rattan chairs on the second-floor balcony.

Shen Qingyao curled up in the chair with a soft cushion, a thin blanket draped over her body. The languor from just having eaten was still ingrained in her bones, and she didn't even have the strength to lift her arms.

Two pots of jasmine are placed on the balcony railing. The delicate white flowers are hidden among the green leaves, and the fragrance is warm and cozy in the sun. It is mixed with the fragrance of plum blossoms that drift from afar and is particularly pleasant when it enters the nose.

She squinted, watching the sunlight slowly move across the back of her hand.

The soft sound of a maid pruning flowers came from downstairs; with a "snip," the scissors cut off a rose in full bloom.

A breeze rustled through the leaves, bringing with it a few clear bird calls, making the afternoon even quieter.

Shen Qingyao's fingertips unconsciously traced the patterns on the rattan chair, but her mind was a jumbled mess.

The sunlight in southern France still shines like scattered gold in my memory.

The sea breeze carries a salty, damp scent, and the aroma of lavender from the market mingles with the warmth of freshly baked bread; even the air feels more languid than in northern Beijing.

But now, the afternoon is so quiet you can hear your own breathing. The sound of pruning flowers has stopped, the birdsong has ceased, and only the sunlight slowly climbs over the railing, leaving a pale golden line.

She sighed and turned her face to the sunlight, but felt that the warmth was through a thin veil, not as direct as that of southern France.

Back then, there were always new things happening every day.

On the beach, my skirt got soaked by the waves; I went sea fishing, chased dolphins, watched the sunrise, rode horses, and stargazed… But after returning home, life returned to its fixed routine, and even the wind became more disciplined, slipping along the courtyard wall without a single surprise.

It turns out that when happiness is too abundant, it really leaves an empty space after it dissipates, and you have to wait for time to fill it back in.

She rolled over, buried her face in the cushion, and felt the scent of sunshine on the fabric against her nose. Suddenly, she found it a little funny.

Yesterday I was watching the sunrise on the beach in the South of France, but today I'm basking in the sun on the balcony. Life has become like a piece of paper crumpled by the wind, with some unexpected wrinkles, yet strangely smoothing out.

The sunlight gradually climbed onto my shoulders, making me feel sleepy.

Shen Qingyao yawned, her eyelids grew heavier and heavier, and she drifted off to sleep again amidst the fragrance of flowers and the sunlight.

When Meng Jiangyu entered the room, he walked very quietly.

The afternoon sun was blazing. Shen Qingyao was curled up in a rattan chair, a thin blanket slipping down her sides. Her breathing was even, like a breeze rippled across a lake. Her eyelashes cast a small, faint shadow under her eyelids.

He didn't come closer; he just leaned against the glass, his back to the light.

The sunlight stretched his shadow long, falling precisely on her, like a soft barrier enveloping her.

He stood at the edge of the shadows, watching her unconsciously furrow and relax her brows, and the tip of her nose, slightly reddened by the sunlight.

The tension at the conference table and the sharpness in the business world melted away at this moment.

Looking at the peacefully sleeping figure before him, he felt as if his heart had been soothed by warm water, leaving no wrinkles.

So-called satisfaction is not about how much you possess, but about looking at a person and feeling that the light and shadow of the whole world are just right in their place.

He stood there until she turned over and shrank into the shadows. Then he smiled silently, gently picked up the thin blanket from the ground, and covered her with it.

When Shen Qingyao opened her eyes, her eyelashes trembled, still drowsy from just waking up.

Upon seeing the person in front of her, she paused for a moment, then her eyes lit up like a lake surface dotted with fallen stars, and her voice, with a soft, nasal tone, asked, "Have you finished your work?"

Meng Jiangyu bent down and gently brushed the stray hairs from her forehead, his fingertips touching her warm skin. He spoke very softly: "Yes, just finished."

His voice was lower than usual, with a soothing tone, "You were sleeping so soundly, I didn't want to wake you."

Shen Qingyao shrank back into the rattan chair, looked up at him, and the sunlight poured in from behind him, gilding his whole body with a layer of gold, which made the contours of his eyebrows and eyes appear much softer.

She suddenly laughed and reached out to tug at his sleeve: "How long have you been standing there?"

"Not long after." Meng Jiangyu sat down on the stool next to her, very close to her, and could smell the faint floral fragrance in her hair.

The afternoon breeze slipped in through the window, carrying the scent of grass and trees in the yard, softening the silence between the two.