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

"Well... I'm all done." She stood up. "I'll head back now."

"I send you."

"No need," Lin Qingmian shook her head. "I can just take a taxi myself. You must have things to do at your company, right?"

Ji Linzhou paused for a moment, then didn't insist: "Then send me a message when you arrive."

"it is good."

Lin Qingmian turned and walked towards the door. As she reached for the doorknob, his voice sounded behind her again.

"Lin Qingmian".

She stopped and looked back at him.

Ji Linzhou remained seated behind his desk, the afternoon sun casting a golden halo around him. His expression was indifferent, revealing no emotion, but his eyes were deep and unfathomable, as if he were hiding something unspoken.

"Don't rush the design stuff," he said. "Focus on healing your injury first."

Lin Qingmian nodded: "I know."

"besides."

He paused for a moment, then lowered his voice slightly: "If you need anything in the future, you can come directly to me."

"No need to go through Fang Shiyang."

Lin Qingmian's heart skipped a beat. She gripped the doorknob, nodded, whispered an "okay," and then pushed open the door and went out.

The corridor was empty. She leaned against the wall for a few seconds, then raised her hand to cover her chest.

Her heart was beating so fast that she was somewhat at a loss.

She took a deep breath, calmed herself down, and then walked towards the elevator.

After returning home, Lin Qingmian sat on the sofa and stared blankly for a long time.

She stared at the empty file folder on the coffee table, her mind replaying the events that had just transpired in the office—him leaning against the edge of the table watching her, saying, "You deserve it," and "You can come to me anytime if you need anything."

She buried her face in the cushion and chuckled softly.

Then my phone rang.

It was Jiang Yao calling.

"Mian, did you go to the hospital to change your dressing today? I'm done here, I'll come see you later?"

"No need." Lin Qingmian lifted her head from the cushion. "I went to the Ji Group today."

"What are you going there for?"

"We discussed a collaboration."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone, then Jiang Yao's voice sounded tentative: "Ji Group...your husband's company?"

"Um."

"You're collaborating with Ji Linzhou?"

"I guess so." Lin Qingmian paused. "He's my client."

Jiang Yao remained silent for several seconds before finally managing to say, "...Your relationship is quite modern."

Lin Qingmian was amused by her, and as she laughed, most of the tension and unease in her heart dissipated.

She leaned back on the sofa, watching the sunset slowly sink below the horizon, its orange-red light bathing the entire living room.

My phone vibrated again; it was a message from Ji Linzhou.

【arrive?】

She stared at those two words for a long time, a smile involuntarily creeping onto her lips, before typing a single word in reply: "Mm."

After sending the message, she added: "[The contract is signed, client, dear client.]"

This time, the reply came quickly, containing only two words, concise and to the point—

Good girl.

Lin Qingmian stared at the word "good girl," her ears burning again. She placed her phone face down on the sofa, rolled over, buried herself in a cushion, and her heart pounded wildly.

Lin Qingmian lay on the sofa for a long time, until the setting sun outside the window completely disappeared and the living room became dark.

She finally lifted her head from the pillow, her face still hot and her heart not yet fully calmed. She reached out and touched her burning ears, feeling that she was becoming more and more pathetic—how could a simple "be good" have made her so flustered?

She took a deep breath, patted her face, and forced herself to calm down.

Then she got up and went to the kitchen to prepare some dinner for herself. With her right arm in a cast, it was really inconvenient to operate with one hand. It took her a while to finally put the pot on the stove. She then took out a few eggs and some greens from the refrigerator, intending to make a simple noodle soup.

Just as I boiled the water, I heard the sound of the door lock turning.

Lin Qingmian paused for a moment, then peeked out towards the entrance.

Ji Linzhou was changing his shoes, his suit jacket draped over his arm, his tie loosened and hanging around his neck, and two buttons of his shirt undone. He looked much more relaxed than he did in the office.

She was a little surprised: "Why are you back? Didn't you say you were busy with work?"

"Finished?" Ji Linzhou looked up at her, his gaze lingering on her arm in a cast, his brow furrowing almost imperceptibly: "What were you doing?"

"Cook noodles."

"You're cooking noodles with your hands like this?"

"I'm hungry." Lin Qingmian said somewhat matter-of-factly, "I can't just starve to death, can I?"

Ji Linzhou didn't say anything. He hung up his coat, loosened his tie and tossed it on the sofa, then strode into the kitchen.

He walked to the stove, glanced at the boiling water in the pot, then at the messy eggs and vegetables on the table next to him, and sighed softly.

"Go outside and sit down."

Lin Qingmian was taken aback: "You?"

"I'll do it."

He spoke as if it were a matter of course, as if it were a matter of course. He had already started rolling up his sleeves, revealing the firm, smooth lines of his forearms.

Lin Qingmian stood at the kitchen door, watching the man skillfully pick up a cleaver to chop vegetables, crack eggs, and cook noodles, feeling somewhat dazed.

She already knew yesterday that Ji Linzhou could cook. But seeing him busy in the kitchen still felt somewhat unreal.

She recalled his image as he sat in his office boss's chair, impeccably dressed, cold and aloof, and then compared it to his current appearance as he sat around the stove, sleeves rolled up to his forearms, head bowed, intently cooking noodles.

"How much have you secretly learned?" she couldn't help but mutter under her breath.

Ji Linzhou was adding seasonings to the pot when he heard her voice, but without turning his head, he said, "Hmm?"

"It's nothing."

Lin Qingmian sat down at the dining table, rested her chin on her hands, and tilted her head to look at him.

The warm yellow light from the stove softened the man's profile as he intently stared at the noodles in the pot, occasionally stirring them with chopsticks in a practiced and natural manner.

For some reason, looking at him like this, Lin Qingmian felt a surge of indescribable emotions welling up inside her, a feeling that filled her completely, as if something had been filled.

In less than ten minutes, two steaming bowls of soup noodles were served.

The vegetables are lush and green, the poached eggs are perfectly round, and the noodles lie distinctly in the clear broth. It's a simple dish, yet it looks incredibly appetizing.

Lin Qingmian couldn't wait to pick up a piece of food with her chopsticks and put it in her mouth. It was so hot that she gasped for breath, but she couldn't bear to spit it out.

"Eat slowly." Ji Linzhou sat down opposite her, picked up his own bowl, and slowly picked up a mouthful of noodles.

"How come your noodles taste so good?" Lin Qingmian asked, her voice muffled. "Did you learn to cook them before?"

"No," Ji Linzhou said calmly. "When I was abroad, I couldn't find food that suited my taste, so I learned to cook it myself."

Lin Qingmian, biting her chopsticks, looked at him, then suddenly thought of something: "Did you... cook for other people before?"