And he could only live in the countryside.
But he was different—he had only one daughter, who lived with his wife, and he even owned a house in the city.
On top of that, he believed he was better-looking than Zhou Yueshen. No woman could resist him once they knew his circumstances.
Thinking this, Li Mingjun straightened his back with confidence and adjusted his leather jacket. If not for the inappropriate setting, he would’ve rushed to tell Si Nian just how great he was—how she’d regret it for the rest of her life if she didn’t choose him...
At this moment, Li Mingjun could already picture the proud woman groveling to please him...
“Achoo! Achoo!”
Si Nian had just set down the lunchbox when she sneezed twice.
She rubbed her nose. Who the hell keeps thinking about me behind my back?
“Not feeling well?”
A deep voice sounded from behind her.
Si Nian turned around.
A tall figure in an army-green tank top approached, his body carrying a faint dampness.
He strode into the small office, his dark, profound eyes fixed on her.
This was Zhou Yueshen’s private resting area.
It wasn’t big—just a small bed and a desk cluttered with handwritten orders and invoices. The densely packed numbers were written in bold, sharp strokes, giving off a sense of depth and weight.
“No, just a little hot,” Si Nian replied.
She had worked up a sweat walking over. Hearing this, Zhou Yueshen casually turned on the nearby fan. A cool breeze brushed against her skin, instantly tousling her pinned-up hair. Si Nian sighed in relief.
“Hurry and eat. It’s the same rib soup from the day before yesterday, plus two stir-fried dishes—braised eggplant and scrambled eggs with tomatoes. You should like them. Oh, and since it’s hot, I brought you some chilled mung bean soup. It’s refreshing—try it.”
She pulled a pink thermos from her handbag and placed it on the table.
The original owner of this body was health-conscious, never skipping herbal teas.
Being a radio host also meant her job strained her voice, so she’d bought a high-quality thermos—excellent insulation, large capacity.
Since Si Nian couldn’t find another container at home, she’d used this one.
Young as she was, the original owner had a taste for delicate things, even opting for a thermos with pink floral patterns.
Judging by the material, it probably wasn’t cheap.
Zhou Yueshen stood nearby, observing the thermos and the carefully prepared lunch.
She had put thought into it.
He didn’t know how long it would last, but for now, Si Nian was doing well.
He pulled out a chair for her, then fetched a stool for himself from outside, returning with a slice of watermelon.
As if worried she’d find it unclean, he held it with a piece of paper underneath and said in his low voice, “Grown by the villagers. Sweet—try it.”
Si Nian didn’t hesitate, taking it with a “Thanks.”
Zhou Yueshen gave a slight nod and said nothing more.
When they were alone, he was always sparing with words, his nature quiet and reserved.
Si Nian nibbled on the watermelon, planning to wait until he finished eating before heading back.
She studied the man. Even seated, he was tall, his frame lean and powerful. He ate quickly but without noise or any hint of crudeness.
His expression remained calm.
Unlike others, his mood didn’t shift with the flavors of the food.
Si Nian couldn’t help asking, “Is it good?”
Zhou Yueshen paused. “Yes. Very.”
She chuckled. “Then why the stern face?”
Zhou Yueshen: “......”
After a long silence, as if carefully choosing his words, he finally replied in that deep voice, “The food is delicious. I’m not stern—it’s just my face. Don’t overthink it.”
Plenty of people had been intimidated by his expression before.
Zhou Yueshen didn’t want her to misunderstand.
Si Nian smiled. “Good, then. If you like it, I’ll cook more often.”
Zhou Yueshen nodded. “Don’t overexert yourself. I’ll come back to eat when I have time.”
Si Nian agreed.
Just then, someone rushed in. “Boss, the shipment’s here. They need you to check it.”
Zhou Yueshen stood, setting down his chopsticks. To Si Nian, he said, “Rest for a bit. I’ll be back soon.”
She nodded absently.
After a while under the fan, Si Nian’s head began to feel heavy—maybe a lingering effect of yesterday’s injury.
She turned off the fan and sat idly at the table, waiting. Feeling increasingly uncomfortable, she rested her head on her arms.
The post-sweat drowsiness hit her, and she yawned, dozing off.
Yu Dong followed Zhou Yueshen inside, trailed by a few workers from the farm. They’d come to discuss business but froze at the sight of Si Nian sleeping at the table.
Yu Dong gasped. “Is this the missus?”
The others nodded. “You just got back, so you wouldn’t know. Boss is getting married soon—October 1st, National Day!”
“Gotta say, the missus’s cooking is amazing. I could smell it from outside—so fragrant!”
One of them inhaled deeply, savoring the aroma.
Zhou Yueshen shot them a cold look. “Take it outside. Let her sleep.”
Soon, the group dispersed—except for Yu Dong, who lingered shamelessly, too curious about this “missus” to leave.
Figuring he should at least greet her while he was here, he edged closer.
Zhou Yueshen watched the sleeping figure but said nothing.
Yu Dong, completely disregarding boundaries, reached for a piece of braised pork rib and popped it into his mouth. His eyes widened dramatically. “Holy crap, this is amazing! How’d she make it?” He went for another piece.
Zhou Yueshen’s gaze turned icy. “Too much free time?”
Yu Dong nearly dropped the rib in fright. “N-No! I just got back, that’s all!”
Halfway through his loud protest, he remembered Si Nian was still resting. Under Zhou Yueshen’s death glare, he clamped a hand over his mouth, eyes pleading—I didn’t mean to!
Seeing Si Nian stir, Zhou Yueshen instinctively reached out and patted her shoulder.
But Si Nian, half-asleep and sticky with sweat, mistook the presence beside her for Yaoyao at home. Without thinking, she reached out and grasped the hand nearby. “Yaoyao, stop messing around. Let me sleep a little longer.”
Her slender, fair fingers, tinged pink at the tips, curled around Zhou Yueshen’s rough yet well-defined hand.
For a moment, the air seemed to freeze.
The room fell silent.
Yu Dong’s jaw dropped, staring as if he’d seen a ghost, the rib forgotten in his mouth.
Zhou Yueshen lowered his gaze, glancing briefly at their joined hands.
(How come no one’s sending me any gifts? Writing alone is so demotivating~)
