Spring Night Kiss.

Song Qingjia was woken up by herself.

She suddenly opened her eyes and stared at the ceiling.

A sliver of morning light peeked through the curtains. The room was quiet, the air conditioner was blowing cool air, and the blankets had been kicked to the foot of the bed.

Where did this man come from?

Her chest heaved, and the tingling sensation still lingered on the inside of her thighs.

It's wet.

Hold.

Song Qingjia turned over, buried her face in the pillow, and cursed.

She actually...

She actually had a wet dream, and the subject was Xu Zhouye.

After a long pause, she turned back, looked at the crystal chandelier on the ceiling, and concluded expressionlessly.

Blame him.

Who told him to suddenly appear in front of me again, and even flaunt his charm?

Completely lacking in self-control.

However, after this ordeal, she was no longer sleepy.

I picked up my phone and glanced at it; it was 5:40. I decided to get up and take a shower.

She threw back the covers, got out of bed, tugged at the shoulder strap hanging from her arm, and went into the bathroom.

As hot water was poured over her, she tilted her head back, closed her eyes, and let the water droplets slide down her jawline and onto her entire body.

I turned the temperature down, and down it again. Only after pouring cold water on my body did the heat slowly subside.

She turned off the water, shook her hair, and water droplets splashed everywhere. Her wet, long hair clung to her cheeks and neck, making her plain face look as cold as frost.

As I came out drying my hair, my phone vibrated.

She picked it up and glanced at it; it was a new friend request on WeChat.

There were no greetings, just a lonely nickname and profile picture.

But a woman's intuition is usually very accurate, and Song Qingjia guessed who the other person was in just one second.

Thinking of her recent erotic dream, she sneered, turned off the screen, and casually tossed her phone aside.

-

After lunch, Song Qingjia deliberately set off half an hour early.

As I stepped out through the revolving glass doors, a ride-hailing car was already waiting outside.

As she stepped down the steps, a deep engine roar came from afar.

A red Ferrari glided over and stopped directly below the steps. Its body was low-slung, its lines sharp, and its red was dazzling in the sunlight.

Song Qingjia has been dealing with cars for many years, so he naturally recognizes them.

The Ferrari F40, personally overseen by founder Enzo Ferrari, is considered his "swan song" and is hailed as the second generation of the Ferrari King.

The car door opened upwards, and Xu Zhouye got out of the car.

He wore a white shirt today, with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms and the top two buttons undone, revealing his collarbone. His sunglasses were pushed up to his head, and his hair was ruffled, every strand exuding "I did this on purpose."

He closed the car door slowly and deliberately, resting his elbow on the top edge of the door, glancing at her with a slight smile.

"morning."

Song Qingjia paused in his steps.

I wasn't just smitten by his good looks... well, maybe a little.

But her expression only paused for a moment before she continued walking down, asking, "What are you doing here?"

Xu Zhouye closed the car door, walked up to her, and said lazily, "I'm picking you up. Get in the car."

"But I already called a car." Song Qingjia gestured with her chin toward the ride-hailing car parked on the side of the road.

Xu Zhouye followed her gaze.

A black Corolla, the driver is looking out the window.

He walked over, bent down, and knocked on the driver's side window.

The car window rolled down.

Xu Zhouye took out his phone: "QR code for receiving payment."

The driver was stunned.

"QR code for receiving payments," he said again, his tone slightly impatient.

The driver, somewhat bewildered, showed the driver the QR code.

Xu Zhouye scanned the QR code, entered a number, and clicked confirm.

The driver glanced at his phone, his eyes widening: "Ten thousand?!"

"Cancel the order." Xu Zhouye put away his phone. "You can go now."

Without saying a word, the driver stepped on the gas and drove off.

Xu Zhouye turned around, put his hands in his pockets, and raised an eyebrow at Song Qingjia.

There are no cars left.

Song Qingjia looked at him and couldn't help but twitch her lips.

She didn't say anything, but walked past him, opened the passenger door, and got in.

The action was swift and decisive, without the slightest hesitation.

Xu Zhouye paused for a moment, then smiled, walked back to the driver's seat, and started the engine.

The roar of the engine exploded in the air.

Xu Zhouye held the steering wheel with one hand and rested the other on the gear lever.

To put it nicely, that's called being dashing and debonair.

To put it bluntly, that's just being pretentious.

"Fasten your seatbelt," he said.

Song Qingjia pulled over the seatbelt and buckled it.

"Did you sleep well last night?" he asked casually as he stepped on the gas.

"That's good." Song Qingjia looked ahead. "And you?"

Xu Zhouye glanced at her sideways and said, "Oh no, I had a dream."

Song Qingjia paused, was he dreaming too?

What did you dream about?

"I dreamt that someone said I was a bad driver." He shifted gears, and the tachometer needle jumped. "I was so angry that I couldn't sleep all night."

Song Qingjia turned her head to look at him, but didn't say anything.

"Tell me, shouldn't the person who said that compensate me?" Xu Zhouye turned his head and looked at her for a second.

Song Qingjia withdrew her gaze and looked at the road outside the windshield: "I'm stating the facts, why should I seek compensation?"

"The truth?" Xu Zhouye chuckled. "Are you sure?"

"Sure."

"Then do you dare to try again?" His voice lowered, with a slightly irreverent tone. "Let the facts speak for themselves."

Song Qingjia did not respond.

As the car turned into the old street, the flag of the Pingtan (storytelling and ballad singing) hall was already in front of us.

Xu Zhouye slowed down and stopped the car at the entrance.

Song Qingjia reached for the car door, and as soon as his fingertips touched the handle, he spoke.

"Song Qingjia".

She paused, turning her head to look at the man in the driver's seat.

Xu Zhouye looked at her, but his right hand moved down from the steering wheel, his index and middle fingers pinching the small mechanical bolt, and he pressed it with his fingertips.

With a "click," the bolt sank down.

The car doors were locked.

Song Qingjia withdrew her hand, leaned back in her chair, and looked at him sideways.

"What do you mean?"

Xu Zhouye also turned to the side, resting his arm on the steering wheel and his chin on his arm, tilting his head to look at her.

"Let's have dinner together tonight," he said.

"I'm not free tonight."

"It's just a meal." His voice lowered, with a hint of coaxing. "I'll take you home after we eat. You won't lose out."

"I told you I'm busy."

Xu Zhouye smiled slightly: "You said you were too busy, but you didn't say no."

Song Qingjia looked at him and suddenly smiled. Her appearance was already striking, but her smile made her even more radiant, dazzling everyone's eyes.

"Xu Zhouye, are you a scoundrel?"

He smirked: "How can you win someone over without being a scoundrel?"

"So you've always been this shameless in your pursuit of people?" Song Qingjia laughed even more blatantly.

"I've never pursued anyone before." He didn't even blink. "You're the first."

Song Qingjia raised an eyebrow.

Xu Zhouye's gaze fell on the smile on her lips, his eyes darkened, and his voice became hoarse: "Give me some face?"

Song Qingjia remained silent.

She reached out to pry his fingers off the latch. She pried them off one by one, but when she got to the third one, Xu Zhouye grabbed her fingers in return.

Interlock your fingers and press your palms together.

He glanced down at their clasped hands, then looked up at her again: "You said yes."

"When did I agree to that?"

"You touched me," he said matter-of-factly. "That means you agreed."

Song Qingjia was somewhat speechless. She withdrew her hand, shook it, and made no attempt to hide her disdain.

But she still agreed verbally: "Okay, you can book the restaurant."

As soon as he finished speaking, the car door lock clicked open, clean and swift.

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

"Xu Zhouye! It's Xu Zhouye!"

Several young people on the roadside suddenly screamed, their eyes lit up, and they rushed over, holding up their phones.

"Can I take a photo with you?" "Autograph! Please sign my name!"

More and more people gathered around.

Song Qingjia stood outside the crowd, looking over the shoulders of several people.

Xu Zhouye was blocked at the driver's side door, dealing with the fans, but he was still looking for her out of the corner of his eye.

She looked at him and smiled.

Then she reached out and pulled the white jade hairpin from her hair. Her long hair fell loose, draped over her shoulders.

She waved the hairpin at Xu Zhouye in the crowd and mouthed two words.

"Bye-Bye."

Turned around and left.

Xu Zhouye paused when he saw her movement.

He wanted to pursue her.

A girl on his left tugged at his sleeve, wanting to take a photo with him, while a young man on his right held his phone up to his face.

"Xu Zhouye, I love you!"

"Please sign your name!"

He stood there, watching the pale figure turn into the door of the Pingtan Hall and disappear completely.

He glanced down at the sleeve that was being pulled.

I laughed in exasperation.

You can't get angry at the fans.

"One at a time," he said, his voice tinged with helplessness.

By the time he finally squeezed out of the crowd, that heartless, awful woman had already taken to the stage with her pipa.

He found a corner seat and began searching for restaurants in Suzhou suitable for couples on dates.

After looking around for a while without making a decision, I simply opened Weibo. My fingers flew across the keyboard, and in no time, a new post was published.

@徐舟野v: My friends in Suzhou recommend a few restaurants for pursuing someone.