Spring Night Kiss.

Xu Zhouye accepted all three transfers.

Since he contributed both manpower and effort, he deserves these rewards.

About half an hour later, the sound of water in the bathroom finally stopped.

Song Qingjia walked out wrapped in a bath towel, the white towel barely covering her chest, revealing a section of her shoulders and deep collarbone, the hem just past her upper thigh.

Xu Zhouye's gaze started from her collarbone and moved down inch by inch.

The curve of the towel edge, the slender waist, the bare calves.

Finally, he looked up and met her eyes.

Song Qingjia paused for a moment when he looked at her, but her expression remained unchanged.

"The noodles are soggy, what else do you want to eat? I'll order again." Xu Zhouye remained calm and even remembered to ask her what she wanted to eat.

Song Qingjia replied lazily, "No need, Aunt Zhou invited me to her house for dinner."

Xu Zhouye raised an eyebrow: "So, Miss Song, you're just using me and then throwing me away again?"

Song Qingjia didn't reply, but turned around and said, "I'm going to change my clothes, you can leave."

"I'm not going out."

"Then turn around."

Xu Zhouye did not move.

Song Qingjia lowered her eyes, her gaze lingering on his lower abdomen.

She glanced at me for two seconds, then raised her eyelids and said, "Are you sure you want to watch me change? I'm afraid you won't be able to go out and face anyone later."

Xu Zhouye looked down at himself, smiled, and turned around.

I heard rustling sounds behind me: the sound of a towel being untied, the sound of bra clasps fastening...

Xu Zhouye stared at the white wall, his Adam's apple bobbing.

This seems a hundred times more dangerous than letting him see it directly.

"It's all done." Her voice was like a lifeline.

He turned around.

She wore a misty blue silk shirt with a slightly open collar, beige high-waisted wide-leg trousers, and her long hair was tied in a low bun at the back of her head.

Although the red rash on her face hadn't completely disappeared, it didn't detract from her beauty at all.

She picked up her bag and walked past him, saying, "I just paid. It's a cash transaction."

This reply is to that phrase, "Use it and then throw it away."

Xu Zhouye was taken aback, but didn't press the matter, following behind her: "I'll take you."

"Need not."

"free."

Song Qingjia glanced at him, then opened the door: "Let's go."

Xu Zhouye: "..."

She did indeed do as he wished and let him deliver it, but why did it make him so unhappy?

Xu Zhouye parked his car downstairs at Zhou Yunqing's house.

Song Qingjia unbuckled her seatbelt and reached for the car door, but couldn't budge it. She paused, then turned to look at the man in the driver's seat: "What's wrong now?"

Xu Zhouye had been thinking about it the whole way, and he felt that he was completely at a disadvantage in front of this scumbag woman.

This won't do. He's the one playing her, not the other way around.

He needs to regain the initiative.

"I thought about it and decided I still can't be this free driver. You know, my current annual salary is among the top three in the paddock," he said slowly.

"so?"

"So you have to pay me."

Song Qingjia looked at him and suddenly laughed: "Childish."

As soon as she finished speaking, she leaned over, grabbed the man's collar, and pulled hard, bringing the two of them much closer together.

She leaned in and lightly kissed the corner of his lips, as quickly as a dragonfly skimming the water.

"I've paid you, open the door." Song Qingjia released him and urged.

Xu Zhouye raised an eyebrow; this reward was unexpected again. He had thought she was going to try to get rid of him with money again. A smile unconsciously crept onto his lips; this woman wasn't so unreasonable after all.

The car door lock clicked open.

Song Qingjia pushed open the door and got out of the car, just as she stood up—

"Seika?"

Zhou Yunqing walked over from a short distance away, carrying a bag of groceries, and looked at the two of them with a smile. She coughed lightly and glanced between them: "So that's why you haven't arrived yet..."

She didn't finish her sentence, but her smile said it all.

Song Qingjia: "..."

Xu Zhouye reacted quickly, immediately getting out of the car, standing up straight, and smiling, "Hello, Aunt Zhou."

"Alright, alright." Zhou Yunqing looked him over. "You look quite dashing. Come on, let's go upstairs for dinner. I just bought some hairy crabs; I'll steam a few more today."

Before Song Qingjia could speak, Xu Zhouye had already agreed, "Okay." He turned his head to look at her, his eyes full of triumph.

Song Qingjia closed her eyes and endured it.

The three went upstairs.

Zhou Yunqing walked ahead, rattling off the recipe, while Song Qingjia followed behind, lowering her voice to the man beside her, "Why are you doing this so quickly? Are you bored?"

Xu Zhouye also lowered his voice, a sly smile on his lips: "I am indeed very free, and besides, Aunt Zhou is so enthusiastic, I can't refuse an elder."

Song Qingjia had nothing to say.

"Xu Zhouye".

"Um?"

"Don't talk nonsense."

This was the first time Xu Zhouye had heard the nervousness in her tone. He couldn't help but reach out and pinch her cheek, saying in a very cheeky way, "That depends on my mood."

Song Qingjia slapped his hand away and quickly caught up with Zhou Yunqing ahead.

Zhou Yunqing was unmarried and childless, having dedicated most of her life to Suzhou storytelling. Her house was small, with an old pipa hanging in the living room and a half-finished embroidery hoop on the coffee table.

"Please sit down, I'll go cook." She tied on an apron and went into the kitchen.

Song Qingjia sat on the sofa and glanced at Xu Zhouye: "When she asks later, just say we are—"

"Boyfriend and girlfriend?" Xu Zhouye asked.

"……right."

They were caught kissing, and she couldn't very well tell the old lady, who had lived a life of conformity, that they were just having a simple "lip" friendship, could she?

It's too complicated to explain, so let's just accept it.

Xu Zhouye leaned back on the sofa, crossed his long legs, and said slowly, "Then we need to check their testimonies."

"How did you meet?"

"Introduced by a friend."

Xu Zhouye commented: "Boring."

"How long have you been together?"

"Half a month."

"Perfunctory."

Song Qingjia glared at him and continued, "If she asks what you do for a living, just say you're a driver."

"...Did you drive?"

"Otherwise what? Say you're an F1 driver? Aunt Zhou wouldn't understand."

Xu Zhouye thought for a moment and said, "Okay, I'll drive."

"Also," Song Qingjia said, "don't bring up my family matters or your own. Only bring them up when you ask."

"So what are the benefits of cooperating with you to play this boyfriend?" Xu Zhouye nodded and asked the key question.

Song Qingjia paused for a moment, picked up her phone, and tapped her finger lightly.

Immediately, Xu Zhouye's phone vibrated. He looked down and saw another transfer, this time for 100,000 yuan, with the note: "Cooperation Fee".

His lips twitched in disbelief: "Song Qingjia, you really think I'm a gigolo?"

"Accepting means you agree." She took his phone, tapped "accept," and shoved it back into his hand, her movements swift and decisive.

Xu Zhouye looked at the words "Payment Received" on the screen and laughed in exasperation.

Okay, he'll cooperate.

Song Qingjia leaned back on the sofa, picked up the remote control, and turned on the TV. The two of them sat there in an awkward silence.

I just randomly switched channels.

The scene depicts a press conference, with a blue backdrop reading "Ministry of Foreign Affairs Regular Press Conference." Seated in the center is a woman, around fifty years old, with her hair up, wearing a dark suit, and exuding a dignified yet sharp demeanor.

The caption reads: "Foreign Ministry Spokesperson Cheng Yizhen."

Song Qingjia's hand stopped.

Zhou Yunqing was carrying a plate of stir-fried shrimp out of the kitchen when she looked up at the television and paused for a moment.

She placed the dishes on the table and said with a smile, "Your mother still looks so young. I remember the last time I saw her was the year you went abroad to study. She came to Suzhou to pick you up, wearing a dark blue dress. So many years have passed in the blink of an eye, and I've gotten old."

Xu Zhouye stopped spinning the ring, looked at Song Qingjia, and raised an eyebrow.

Cheng Yizhen, wife of Foreign Minister Nie Qingyuan.

I've never heard of her having a daughter.

Song Qingjia didn't say anything, but stood up: "Aunt Zhou, let me help you carry it."

She followed Zhou Yunqing into the kitchen, and Xu Zhouye also stood up, wanting to follow.

"No need, no need," Zhou Yunqing said with a smile, pushing him back. "How can we make guests do the work? You sit and wait."

Xu Zhouye was pressed back onto the sofa.

The kitchen door was ajar, and intermittent sounds could be heard from inside, but they were not clear.

In the kitchen, the sink was running loudly.

Zhou Yunqing poured the vegetables into the colander: "When was the last time I saw your mother?"

"The day I returned to Jingzhou."

"Have you eaten?"

"Um."

Zhou Yunqing glanced at her: "Did you have another unpleasant argument?"

Song Qingjia took the drain basket without saying a word.

It should be said that none of the mother and daughter's meetings were pleasant; they were separated by the deceased Mr. Song and by the many years they had not lived together.

Cheng Yizhen genuinely wanted to mend the relationship, using the guise of doing what was best for her to introduce her to various wealthy young men.

This time it's Vice Minister Chen's son, who said he just returned from England and works in investment banking; they're a good match.

But Song Qingjia didn't know where this concept of "matching social status" lay. She was just the daughter of an ordinary teacher, and she and the sons of ministers and CEOs were from completely different worlds.

The meeting naturally ended unpleasantly, and she went to drink with Shen Lingyi, and later...

Song Qingjia turned her head to look at the man sitting in the living room, and sighed again.

Later, I lost my mind and got myself into this inescapable trouble, which is really a headache.

Zhou Yunqing didn't press further: "The soup is ready, take it out."

Song Qingjia carried the soup bowl out of the kitchen, and Xu Zhouye got up to greet her, taking it from her: "I'll do it."

Zhou Yunqing followed her out and finally smiled again: "Qingjia, you've finally found the right boyfriend. He knows how to care for someone."

Song Qingjia: "..."

Fine, I'll just have to bear it.