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

Lin Qingmian went to the Lin family villa the next morning.

She didn't call ahead or ask Ji Linzhou to take her; she took a taxi to the door herself.

The security guard recognized her and hesitated for a moment before opening the door.

When she walked in, Zhang Yuzhu was arranging flowers in the living room. When she saw her come in, she paused for a moment while scissors were in her hand.

"Mianmian? What brings you here?"

Lin Qingmian stood in the center of the living room and looked around the place where she had lived for nearly twenty years.

The sofa was replaced, the painting on the wall was changed, and even the tea set on the coffee table was a style she had never seen before.

She turned her gaze back to Zhang Yuzhu.

"Where is the original copy of the IOU you made me sign using a shell company?"

Zhang Yuzhu didn't put down the scissors, but she had stopped moving them.

She stood there looking at her, her expression frozen for several seconds before finally starting to move again: "What did you say? What shell company?"

"Ji Linzhou has already found out."

Lin Qingmian said, "The legal representative behind that agency is you and Lin Jianzhong. You lent me the money, then had me sign it, and then transferred it to Madam Ji—do you want me to continue?"

Zhang Yuzhu placed the scissors on the coffee table very quietly, as if she didn't want to make a sound.

She sat down, picked up the cup of tea in front of her, took a sip, and set the cup down with a crisp sound as it hit the tray. "So what? We had no choice; given the situation at home back then—"

"You have a way."

Lin Qingmian interrupted her, "You just didn't choose any other way."

Zhang Yuzhu looked up at her, and a crack finally appeared on her well-maintained face.

Her lips moved as if she wanted to say something, but as she was choosing her words, Lin Jianzhong came downstairs and paused when he saw Lin Qingmian standing in the living room.

"What are you doing here?" His voice wasn't loud, but the defensiveness in his tone was unmistakable.

"They've come to ask for something."

Lin Qingmian said, "The original IOU, and all the agreements you made me sign back then."

Lin Jianzhong looked at her, then glanced at Zhang Yuzhu, as if trying to find some clue from her.

Zhang Yuzhu kept her head down and didn't look at him. He was silent for a while, then spoke in a softer tone: "Mianmian, those things are useless to you. It's all in the past, and you're living a better life than anyone else now—"

"That's my business," Lin Qingmian said. "Give me the things, and I won't bother you again. If you don't, I'll take legal action."

The living room fell silent.

Lin Jianzhong and Zhang Yuzhu exchanged a glance, their calculating eyes seemingly blocked by something, unable to find a way out even after circling around several times.

Finally, Lin Jianzhong turned around and went upstairs. He came down about ten minutes later, holding a brown paper document bag and handed it to her.

She took it, opened it, and glanced at it; it was the few sheets of paper she had signed.

The paper was slightly yellowed, and the edges were frayed. Her signature was still in the bottom right corner of the last page. She carefully put the file folder into her bag.

"You and your sister will see each other again—" Zhang Yuzhu spoke from behind her, her voice carrying a final struggle, "You can't be so heartless."

Lin Qingmian turned around and glanced at her: "I will indeed see her in the future, as for you two... never mind."

As she walked out of the Lin family's gate, the sunlight fell directly on the steps, making them bright and dazzling.

She walked down the steps to the roadside, opened the car door, and got into the back seat. Ji Linzhou was waiting for her in the driver's seat. Seeing her get in the car, he didn't ask how it was, but simply started the car.

After the car had driven a short distance, she said, "I got it."

"Hmm. What are you planning to do?"

"Leave it," she said. "Keep it for now. I don't have the energy to deal with them right now; I need to prepare for the show in Paris."

Ji Linzhou glanced at her in the rearview mirror, his gaze lingering on her face for a moment before returning to the road ahead. "The show is next week."

"I know."

She leaned back in her chair, the file folder in her hand resting on her lap.

The street scene outside the window changed from a residential area to a commercial area and then to a greenway along the river. Sunlight streamed in through the car window, shimmering on the back of her hand.

She looked down at her fingers gripping the edge of the file folder, her palms damp with a thin layer of sweat, the source of which she couldn't tell when it had started.

After arriving home, she put the file folder in a drawer in her study and locked it.

When I came out, I saw Ji Linzhou standing in the living room making a phone call, speaking in French about the layout adjustments for the exhibition booth.

She listened for a few minutes, but didn't quite understand the details. She only heard him mention the location of her design draft, requesting that it be placed in front of the wall in the very center of the exhibition area.

He slowly put down the phone, and as he turned around, his gaze fell on her.

The night outside the window was deep, and the glow of the streetlights cast dappled shadows on the glass.

"Flight at six tomorrow," he said softly, "Is your luggage all packed?" His fingers unconsciously traced the edge of the ticket, the paper making a soft rustling sound.

"I brought everything," she said.

He nodded and didn't ask any more questions.

But when she woke up in the middle of the night that night, she found herself wrapped in his arms from behind, his arms across her waist, his palms against her lower abdomen, and he was sleeping more soundly than usual.

She didn't move, just stared at the shadows on the ceiling with her eyes open, feeling his warm, steady breath on the back of her neck. She closed her eyes and drifted back to sleep.

The next morning, when Lin Qingmian was heading to the airport, she received a message from Fang Shiyang saying that several fabric suppliers she was working with in China had suddenly contacted her to terminate their contracts, and the original fashion show fabrics might have to be changed at the last minute.

Lin Qingmian frowned after reading the message and was about to type a reply when Ji Linzhou's voice came from beside her: "What's wrong?"

"The fabric suppliers have all terminated their contracts."

He took her phone, glanced at it, and handed it back to her. "I'll make a call before boarding. We'll talk more when we get to Paris."

Do you know who did it?

He reached out and straightened his suitcase, saying briefly, "Let's board first." He paused, then added, "We'll deal with it when we get there."

Lin Qingmian looked at his profile. His face was expressionless, but she knew he probably already knew who had tampered with things behind the scenes. She didn't ask any questions and followed him into the security checkpoint. After the plane took off, she leaned against the window, watching the city skyline gradually shrink outside. The clouds churned beneath the wings, forming a vast white sea. She closed her eyes and felt the person next to her reach out, gently grasp her hand that was hanging on the armrest, and then release it.

She closed her eyes, withdrew her hand, rested it on the armrest for a moment, then reached out again. The other hand reached out and intertwined with hers.

As the plane passed through the clouds, sunlight streamed in through the porthole, illuminating the two people's clasped hands.