Ning Zhen really wanted to rush out and argue with Meng Xianwen, but it was just a thought.
After washing up, she swaggered out of the bathroom and snuck a glance at the living room — the man in question was still dealing with work. How did he have the nerve to say he was taking a day off to spend the weekend with her?
The breakfast on the dining table was still warm, which lifted Ning Zhen's mood considerably. She furrowed her brow, suddenly remembering something rather unpleasant — what was she going to do? She'd already gotten used to waking up every morning to a lavish, nutritionally balanced breakfast.
Once Meng Xianwen moved out, wouldn't she be thrown right back to the dark ages?
Ning Zhen's heart sank. She took a sip of the thick soy milk with a stiff expression, then had a change of heart and comforted herself — it didn't matter if he moved out. The supplementary credit card was in her hands; she could use her spending power to have restaurant waiters deliver meals.
Her mind was full of frivolous thoughts when she remembered she still had actual business to attend to.
Since it was still early, she quickly put down her cup, picked up her phone, and texted Song Yuqing: [Yuqing, not-so-great news — that guy isn't going to work today, he's home too TVT]
She had just finished breakfast when she received Song Yuqing's reply: [No worries, four people might actually be livelier. Jiaran is already on his way to my place, he should be here soon.]
Ning Zhen sighed inwardly.
Song Yuqing was truly wonderful — the kind of person who never made anyone feel awkward.
The plan for the date had changed at the last minute, and she could have easily suggested rescheduling, but she didn't.
A two-person date had turned into three, then four. The more Ning Zhen thought about it, the more she concluded this was entirely Meng Jiaran's and his brother's fault. She grabbed a few tissues to wipe her mouth, stood up, walked into the living room, and said with complete entitlement, "They'll probably get here around noon. Let's go to the supermarket and buy some groceries!"
Meng Xianwen's eyes shifted from his laptop screen to her porcelain-white face. Whether it was "supermarket" or "buying groceries," these words were foreign to him. Almost without thinking, he said, "You mean ingredients? We can have someone deliver them."
Ning Zhen's mouth twitched.
Of course, she knew he could have someone handle all of this with a single phone call.
But was he here to be pampered?
He'd been staying at her place for this long and still acted like he'd never touched the mortal world. Clearly, she'd been far too kind to him.
She quickly snapped back, throwing his own words back at him: "Who was it that said they'd spend today with me? Oh, so 'spending time with me' means you working overtime at home? In that case—" She dropped her smile, turned sideways, and made a gesture of "please, the door's that way" — "you should just go back to Hengxing. My place is small; fewer people means better air circulation."
Meng Xianwen stared at her quietly. Their eyes met in a standoff for a moment, and then he calmly closed his laptop. "I'll have Xiao Ding—"
Before he could finish, she cut him off, looking utterly appalled, as if she were staring at a capitalist slave driver. "The supermarket is just two kilometers away! Are you seriously going to have Xiao Ding rush all the way here just to drive us there? Don't put him through that, okay?"
She watched as he rose to his feet in silence.
The little figure in Ning Zhen's heart stood with hands on hips, victorious. Two scathing comebacks before the morning was even over — today was going to be a good day, apparently.
They got ready quickly and headed out one after the other.
With Xiao Ding absent, Ning Zhen's pink Audi came in handy. Meng Xianwen didn't trust her driving, so he pulled open the driver's door and slid into the seat. Ning Zhen got in on the passenger side, buckled her seatbelt, and started setting up navigation. He cast a casual glance at her fingers tapping across the screen, then looked at the navigation history and asked, "You've been to Hongxin recently?"
His tone was ordinary, as natural as discussing the weather.
Ning Zhen's fingers froze, and she wanted to curse at him again.
Could he please direct that keen observational skill somewhere else?
He always, out of nowhere, asked her questions she had no desire to answer.
How was she supposed to answer this one? Song Tao's interview had already ended. If she said yes, she'd been there, then she'd have to explain when and why — she'd have to account for every detail.
"No, I haven't." He asked casually; she answered casually. "Must have tapped it by accident."
Meng Xianwen hummed in acknowledgment and rolled down the window, but his hands slowly tightened on the steering wheel.
The supermarket on a weekend was bustling with activity.
Ning Zhen pushed a shopping cart over and handed it to Meng Xianwen. His brows had been furrowed since he got in the car, as if someone owed him money and hadn't paid it back. She thought he was being perfectly ridiculous — he was always busy, busy, busy, and yet he still claimed he wanted to spend the weekend with her...
"Strolling through the supermarket is also a way to relax," she said, clearing her throat before asking out of curiosity, "When was the last time you went to a supermarket?"
Meng Xianwen was stumped by the question.
He had absolutely no idea.
Ning Zhen nodded knowingly, her tone complicated. "Your life isn't very interesting, is it?"
He lived in a lavish, spacious home, yet he'd never even been to the park nearby.
He ate the finest delicacies, yet he couldn't remember the last time he'd gone to a supermarket to buy something himself.
He hadn't looked at the stars in ages, hadn't felt the changing seasons in ages.
Was the world he saw only about rising wealth and Hengxing's stock?
Meng Xianwen didn't respond, casting a brief glance at her before pushing the cart further inside.
Ning Zhen stood still, growing increasingly irritated. What was that look he had just given her? Mocking, teasing, contemptuous — as if he were silently telling her, sure, it isn't interesting, but it's definitely more interesting than her poverty-stricken life.
Meng Xianwen, whose back bore countless invisible stab wounds from her glaring eyes, looked back and said, "Keep up."
She pursed her lips and followed.
Ning Zhen believed everyone showed sincerity in their own way.
Song Yuqing was sincere in spending her time and effort to take her for a drive and to that restaurant halfway up the mountain.
So when Ning Zhen reciprocated, she couldn't just pick some restaurant or have food delivered — that would seem perfunctory. Having her guest over to her cozy home, for a lunch she'd prepared herself, was the highest honor in her book.
Ning Zhen's kitchen was fully stocked.
After rifling through the cabinets, she decided they'd do both hotpot and barbecue.
They could have the hotpot and grill meat at the same time.
Meng Xianwen followed behind her, watching her wander from section to section, tossing items into the cart until it was piled high. Finally satisfied, she went to check out.
He scanned the items with some awkwardness.
She looked around, and a few steps away was the flower section.
Drawing closer, she could catch a faint whiff of floral fragrance. Her gaze swept the area once, and a small smile played at her lips. By the time she returned to the machine where he was paying, she was holding up a potted cactus like a treasured find. "And this — put it on your desk, isn't it just—" She deliberately paused. "—like you?"
Nothing but prickles — that was him. Get too close and forget your distance, and you'd end up pricking your finger.
Meng Xianwen caught her veiled jab and studied the cactus. "You like it?"
Before she could answer, he looked away, pointed his phone at the QR code, paid, in one fluid motion. "Then buy it yourself."
Ning Zhen was furious.
She'd spoken too soon. Today was not a good day.
She'd been bested twice as well.
For now, they were even.
...
Ding-dong. Ding-dong.
At ten o'clock in the morning, the doorbell rang.
Ning Zhen was busily bustling around the kitchen with great enthusiasm, calling out to Meng Xianwen to go answer the door. At this hour, it naturally wasn't Song Yuqing or Meng Jiaran—it was two young workers in uniforms. The moment the door opened, they put on their professional smiles and stated their purpose: "Miss Ning, please sign for this safe."
The commotion at the door reached the kitchen as well.
Ning Zhen came running over, her face lighting up with delight. She squeezed past Meng Xianwen to hand them shoe covers.
After a flurry of activity, the sleek, high-end safe was placed into the already cramped study. The workers patiently and meticulously taught her how to use it and what to watch out for, and Ning Zhen listened seriously, committing everything to memory.
When she warmly sent them off, she even grabbed two bottles of drinks from the fridge as a token of thanks.
The door clicked shut.
Meng Xianwen, who had been silent the whole time, finally spoke up: "Why did you have Jiaran send over a safe?"
What else could it be for?
Ning Zhen pressed her lips together, feeling a subtle unease creeping in. She'd thought that since he had been so busy and exhausted lately, she'd prepare a little surprise for him too. But it was unnecessary and quite redundant—someone like Meng Xianwen lacked nothing.
She would never be foolish enough to prepare surprises for him again.
How stupid of her.
"For storing valuables!" she said, then tried hard to shake off the bad mood. She dashed excitedly toward the master bedroom, and when she came back, she was cradling several boxes in her arms. She crouched in front of the safe and placed them inside one by one.
Meng Xianwen leaned against the doorframe, his gaze landing on the watch box among them. He furrowed his brow, then walked over slowly, stopping behind her. In a low voice, he asked, "Why haven't you given the watch to Uncle Ning yet?"
Ning Zhen slammed the safe door shut with a thud, clapped her hands, and said, "I've been so busy. I'll do it next time. No rush."
Her tone carried a barely perceptible dismissiveness—a stark contrast to the image of her that day, clutching the watch box like a treasure, beaming with excitement, as if she couldn't wait to fly home and give it to her father.
Meng Xianwen's gaze flickered. He looked down at her thoughtfully, lost in contemplation.
On WeChat, Meng Jiaran sent a voice message within minutes, letting them know where they were and how much longer they'd take.
Ning Zhen, utterly annoyed, simply placed her phone on the dining table and dragged Meng Xianwen into the kitchen to help.
Of course, he wasn't one for such tasks, his face completely expressionless the whole time.
She stole a glance at him, stifling a smile, then her eyes landed on an apron hanging to the side. An idea struck her. She reached out to grab it and, without making a sound, inched closer to him. Just as she was one step away from success, he seized her wrist without warning and pulled her into his arms.
Ning Zhen's face showed surprise. Her fingers loosened, and the apron fell into his hand.
Meng Xianwen bent down and casually tossed the apron onto the counter.
They stood close together, his breath brushing against the side of her neck. The moment lingered—long enough that Ning Zhen had the illusion he was about to kiss her. Whether out of instinct or intent, she turned her head, trying to pull away.
The air went quiet for a second.
She didn't look at him, completely unaware that Meng Xianwen was watching her with a deep, heavy gaze, something turbulent stirring beneath his eyes.
He didn't want to kiss her.
He wouldn't kiss her.
It was just that when she tried to escape, he could no longer contain the anger that was breaking through the surface.
She was the one hiding things. She was the one deceiving. And she was the one pulling away.
The next second, his cool palm turned her face back toward him, with a force that brooked no refusal, and pressed against her tightly sealed lips. The kiss deepened. She tried to push him away, but he held her waist in a firm grip.
She instinctively backed away until she was pressed against the refrigerator door.
They had kissed deeply twice before; Meng Xianwen wasn't so out of touch that he couldn't sense her utter calmness now. He stopped chasing the kiss and began to release his hand from her back.
Just as Ning Zhen let her guard down, his teeth lightly nipped her tongue without warning.
It was as if punishing her calmness, her lack of focus, her detachment.
That small bite was also a rare display of his emotions slipping through.
He was acutely aware he was losing his composure, but he quickly snapped back to reality and let her go.
Ning Zhen leaned against the fridge, catching her breath. That bite wasn't hard—barely even painful—but she still covered her mouth, both catching her breath and glaring indignantly at his retreating figure. What did he mean by that? What did he mean by that?!
The first kiss was her initiation, the second was his—they were even. Neither owed the other anything. He was being completely unreasonable.
Even the air she breathed was filled with his scent, thread by thread seeping into her nose, spreading through her body with a faint, piercing ache.
He was a cactus.
His thorns were flowing through her veins.
Ning Zhen didn't know where she found the courage or the strength, but she chased after his steps, grabbed his arm, and the moment he turned around, she looped her arms around his shoulders and stood on her tiptoes to kiss him.
No, that wasn't a kiss.
She didn't want to kiss him.
She wouldn't kiss him!
Their noses bumped into each other. Meng Xianwen hadn't even calmed down from his own outburst, and now a sharp sting shot through the tip of his tongue—she was retaliating in kind, biting far harder than he had.
...
At noon.
The meat on the grill sizzled.
The hotpot was bubbling away, steam rising in thick waves.
Ning Zhen brought out four cups for juice, each one filled with ice of a different shape. She gave the cutest bear-shaped ice to herself and Song Yuqing, the round balls to Meng Jiaran, and for Meng Xianwen—half a cup of crushed ice.
Meng Xianwen lifted his eyes and glanced at Ning Zhen sitting across from him, his expression unreadable, and took a sip.
Occasionally, the other three clinked their glasses, the crisp sound ringing out. The one at the table who cared most about Meng Xianwen was, of course, his own younger brother, Meng Jiaran. Jiaran was secretly treating today as a double date, and he was being extra attentive—rolling up his sleeves and taking charge of the grilling.
He picked up pieces of sizzling, juicy beef and placed them one by one into the others' bowls, only to notice that his brother had barely touched his food. "Bro, why aren't you eating?"
Meng Xianwen paused for a few seconds, then said flatly, "It's too hot."
Ning Zhen was just drinking her juice when she heard that and nearly choked. The other two at the table probably couldn't read between the lines, but she knew exactly what he meant—she had bitten him so hard he was bleeding, and eating grilled meat and hotpot was nothing short of torture.
Imagining him wanting to eat but unable to, in his sorry state, she thought he deserved it entirely. Serves him right.
But she still couldn't help wanting to laugh. She coughed a few times in a muffled way, and her ears and cheeks began to turn red.
