Sweetie, don't look at him, kiss me.

The next morning was the brand's showroom visit. When Lin Qingmian arrived, she saw her design hanging in the center of the hall. The misty blue shirt shimmered softly under the spotlights, the fabric texture clearly visible. Fang Shiyang was standing nearby. Seeing her enter, she quickly walked over and whispered that the boss had gone to Paris last night and was suffering from jet lag, asking her to check if Ji Linzhou had eaten properly. Lin Qingmian chuckled at her concerned expression and said she had eaten French food last night; he had ordered a steak and ate half of it.

There was a media interview session in the afternoon. Lin Qingmian was seated next to the booth and answered several questions about her design concept. Halfway through her speech, she caught a glimpse of two people walking in through the exhibition hall entrance, one of whom was Ji Xingye. He was wearing a black trench coat, his hair was slightly disheveled by the wind, as if he had traveled a long way to get there. He stood at the door for a few seconds, looking at her, but didn't come over; he just stood at a distance.

Lin Qingmian's gaze lingered on him for a moment before returning to answering the reporters' questions. By the time she finished her last question and stepped down from the stage, Ji Xingye was no longer at the entrance. She walked through the crowd to the rest area on the other side of the exhibition hall, where she saw Ji Linzhou standing there, holding a glass of water and looking down at his phone.

She walked over and stood beside him: "You saw Ji Xingye?"

"Hmm." He looked up. "He said he had something to say to you. I told him you had an interview today and asked him to wait."

"Did he wait?"

"I waited." Ji Linzhou placed his water glass on the table beside him. "But he left while you were answering the reporters' questions."

Lin Qingmian stood beside him, the exhibition hall lights casting their shadows on the white wall behind them. "He's probably figured it out," she said.

Ji Linzhou glanced at her, his gaze lingering on her face for a moment, but he didn't press her to ask what she had figured out.

That night, after returning to the hotel and taking a shower, she found a glass of hot milk on the coffee table in the living room, with a note next to it. The note was written in Ji Linzhou's handwriting: "I'm going out for a bit. I'm going downstairs to meet with a business partner. Drink the milk while it's hot."

She picked up the glass of milk and took a sip. The temperature was just right, neither too hot nor too cold. As she put the glass down, her phone lit up with a news notification: "The Ji Group's real estate investment in France is reportedly embroiled in legal disputes. The partner claims the contract is questionable, and there are suspicions that a late-night agreement from a year ago contained a trap." She stared at the headline for a few seconds, then picked up her phone and dialed Ji Linzhou's number.

The phone rang three times before being answered. His voice came through the receiver, a little lower than usual: "What's wrong?"

"Did you see the news? That investment—"

"I saw it." His tone remained calm. "I came downstairs to deal with this. Don't worry, it's nothing serious."

She stood in the living room, phone in hand, the Parisian night outside the window a deep blue. "When are you coming back?"

"I'll head back after we're done talking. You go to sleep first."

"Okay." She didn't hang up, and after a couple of seconds added, "Be careful."

There was a moment of silence on the other end, followed by a soft "hmm," the last syllable rising slightly, like a laugh. After hanging up, she stood by the window, looking at the night view outside. The glass of milk in her hand was still more than half full, its warmth seeping through the glass into her palm.

She lowered her head, took a sip, and then carried the cup back to her bedroom. She didn't sleep; instead, she leaned against the headboard, scrolling through the comments under the news article, her brow furrowing deeper with each reading. Some were saying the Ji Group might lose hundreds of millions this time, while others were speculating about who was behind it all. She came across a comment that said, "This year, Ji Linzhou has been busy getting married and dating; he hasn't had the mind to manage the business." Her finger hovered over the screen for a long time before she finally flipped her phone over and placed it face down on the bedside table.

She lay down, staring at the ceiling with her eyes open. The light was still on, and the room's heating made the air dry and warm. She closed her eyes briefly, then opened them again, then closed them again. She didn't know how much time had passed when she heard the sound of a card swiping to open the door, followed by the sound of shoes being changed, and footsteps walking through the living room towards the bedroom.

She turned over to face the door. When Ji Linzhou opened the door and saw that she was still awake, he paused slightly: "Didn't I tell you to go to sleep first?"

"How did your talk go?"

He came in and sat on the edge of the bed, looking somewhat tired. He leaned against the headboard before speaking: "It's nothing serious. The other party wanted to do something while I was in Paris; there were some ambiguities in the contract. I've already had someone take care of it."

He turned his head to look at her, his gaze lingering on her face for a moment, then he raised his hand to press down a stray strand of her hair. "Don't worry. Go to sleep."

She looked at him; his eyes appeared deeper than usual in the warm yellow light. "Ji Linzhou."

"Um."

"If there really is a problem with that contract—you got married because you wanted to sign that thing, right?"

He looked at her, not answering immediately. Several seconds later, he spoke, his voice lower than before: "Yes."

"If the contract is resolved, will you still need this marriage?" she asked.

The hotel room was so quiet that only the faint sound of the heating was humming. He looked at her, the weariness in his eyes replaced by something more serious and profound. He didn't answer her question, but he reached out and took her hand, which was draped outside the blanket, his fingertips gently brushing against the back of her hand, then slowly closing his fingers to envelop her entire hand in his palm.

"Go to sleep," he said.

He neither said yes nor no. But he held her hand tightly, and even after her breathing gradually calmed down, he still didn't let go.

When Lin Qingmian woke up the next morning, Ji Linzhou was no longer in bed.

She turned over and heard him talking on the phone in the living room. He was speaking French, faster than usual, with a cold, hard tone at the end that she rarely heard. When she sat up, put on a coat, and came out of the bedroom, he was standing in front of the French windows, one hand in his pocket, the other holding his phone to his ear. The morning light shone on him, outlining the sharp lines of his profile.

He hung up the phone, turned around, and saw her. His expression didn't change, but the coldness in his eyes hadn't completely disappeared. "Awake?"

"What happened?" She stood at the bedroom door, looking at him.

"The contract is more complicated than I thought," he said. "It's not just a simple matter of vague terms. Someone deliberately modified a few pages before signing, and then replaced the original afterward. The copy I have has been switched."

Lin Qingmian frowned. "Who did this?"

Ji Linzhou looked at her and remained silent for two seconds. "Do you still remember the drink my stepmother arranged for you a year ago?"

She paused, stunned. "That time at the hotel… she drugged me, trying to get me and you—you mean, the same person?"

"The timeline matches up." He walked to the sofa and sat down. "That contract was signed a week before that dinner. Three days after it was signed, my stepmother arranged for you and me to meet. Su Tingwan returned to China around the same time."

He looked up at her: "A year ago, someone wanted me to get married. Not just wanted, but required. I needed a married status to fulfill a contract, so I came to you. But is it possible—that even my need to get married was pre-arranged?"