Under Feng Yan's piercing gaze that seemed to see right through her, Sang Lu's explanation came out a bit stiff.
"Ah, well... how should I put it? Basically, theoretically speaking... having more options is never a bad thing, right? As a woman, of course I’d want as many pretty outfits as possible to bring along. Do you get what I mean?"
After she finished speaking, the man who had been unusually talkative earlier suddenly fell silent.
In the frozen air, he simply watched her quietly.
His gaze felt almost tangible.
Sang Lu sensed a whiff of disbelief.
Alright, fine—it was a hard sell.
That morning, Feng Yan had personally witnessed her organizing clothes in the walk-in closet. Her text about "forgetting to pack clothes" could barely pass as leaving them at the TV station and not bringing them over.
But now, with her clothes right in front of him, it looked suspiciously like she’d called him over urgently just to mess with him.
Heavens above!!!
If the situation hadn’t been so rushed, she definitely could’ve come up with a more convincing excuse.
After all, even with eight hundred extra guts, she wouldn’t dare deliberately toy with Feng Yan.
She still wanted to live a few more years.
After a brief pause, Sang Lu scrambled to salvage her credibility while steering the conversation elsewhere:
"Don’t worry, it’s normal for men not to understand. Just like how you can’t tell mint green from avocado green—I get it. Anyway, thanks so much for bringing my clothes over~"
Feng Yan’s silence lingered. "……"
Across from him, Sang Lu’s clear, bright eyes beamed a friendly signal at him.
All smiles.
Inner monologue: No one hits a smiling face. Heh.
Feng Yan’s gaze gradually shifted from calm to intrigued, fixed unwaveringly on her face—as if marveling at how her ability to twist words and flip truths had leveled up.
A few seconds later, a faint, helpless smile surfaced in the cool, composed man’s eyes.
His tone laced with playful skepticism, he asked:
"So, I should... thank you for your understanding?"
"No need, no need! It’s mutual~" Sang Lu replied instantly.
Still radiating friendly smiles...
Ding-dong— Ding-dong—
The doorbell suddenly rang twice.
Sang Lu’s eyes lit up like a lifeline had been thrown.
"That must be what I ordered!"
Tossing out the words, she pivoted and dashed to the door.
Thank heavens, dinner’s here!
She knew Feng Yan was the quiet type during meals—no way he’d press her further on the earlier topic.
That doorbell was a godsend!
Sang Lu cheerfully pulled the door open.
"President Sang, I’ve brought your items."
A hotel staff member stood by the door with a small cart, addressing her respectfully.
Sang Lu nodded with a smile and stepped aside to let them pass.
As the cart rolled by, she casually glanced down—
And froze.
Wait.
This wasn’t a dinner cart at all.
No five-star hotel feast in sight.
Instead?
Swimsuits, spa robes, floral essential oils, delicate pastries...?
A question mark popped over Sang Lu’s head: "?"
After a dazed moment, Sister Chen’s face flashed in her mind.
She suddenly realized what had happened.
No wonder Sister Chen looked so weird earlier!
That knowing smile, that mysterious glance between her and Feng Yan...
Sister Chen must’ve assumed Feng Yan had brought luggage to join her for a relaxing getaway!
Hence the hot spring supplies.
For a second, Sang Lu couldn’t decide whether to admire Sister Chen’s professionalism or facepalm at her lack of situational awareness.
By the time she snapped out of it, the staff had already wheeled the cart inside and quietly exited.
Sang Lu closed the door.
When she turned around, ready to speak, she found Feng Yan staring at the cart—his usually steady expression slightly faltering.
Sang Lu: ?
Following his gaze, she noticed:
On the cart’s second tier—a few silk nightgowns and two plush robes.
And on the very top, neatly folded...
A pair of men’s swim trunks.
The hot spring kind.
But slightly shorter than regular beach shorts.
And accordingly, more... figure-hugging.
A shadowy, unreadable glint gathered in Feng Yan’s dark eyes.
He studied the trunks, then slowly lifted his gaze to Sang Lu.
His deep voice carried a trace of husky bewilderment.
"Your arrangement?"
"……………………"
Sang Lu stiffened.
The air around them seemed to vacuum-seal into awkward silence.
She wanted to dive headfirst into the hot spring pool.
She desperately wanted to explain: It was Sister Chen!
But that’d sound just as weird!
Especially since she’d pulled Sister Chen aside for a "private chat" before leaving.
To anyone, those slightly-too-short, slightly-too-revealing trunks would seem like her idea.
Minutes ago, Feng Yan’s look had already been one of silent skepticism over her flimsy excuses.
Now? Even the truth would sound like a wild fabrication.
Explaining—or not explaining—would only steer the atmosphere further into weird.
"For the station’s shoot."
After what felt like eternity, the words tumbled out of Sang Lu’s mouth.
She forced her expression to stay natural, forging ahead:
"My team’s planning to use Qilan as a filming location for a new variety show. I asked Sister Chen to gather some robes, swimwear, etc., so I could preview them for potential use."
A single lie breeds a thousand more.
Sang Lu finally understood the weight of that saying.
She vowed never to lie again.
Especially not to Feng Yan.
The pressure was too much.
Across from her, Feng Yan’s gaze didn’t waver.
It lingered on her slightly flushed face for several seconds.
Finally, he looked away.
His tone flat, he spoke again:
"I see. So this is the kind of show I invested in. Must’ve missed the details."
Sang Lu’s brain short-circuited again: "……"
Ice-block guy, what’s with you?! Either dead silent or dropping verbal bombs that leave me—the queen of comebacks—speechless.
Just as she racked her brain for a response, the doorbell chimed once more.
Ding-dong— Ding-dong—
Sang Lu perked up.
Dinner. Finally.
Save me from this nightmare.
She sprinted to the door like her life depended on it.
The same staff member stood outside, now wearing an apologetic smile as they scratched their head.
"President Sang, I forgot to mention earlier—Sister Chen asked me to tell you—"
A pause, then a slightly louder delivery, as if to ensure the room’s other occupant heard the heartfelt blessing:
"—Sister Chen says, ‘May you and President Feng have a wonderful weekend evening.’"
