Chapter 557: When the Wheat Ear Fell in Love, Wealth Exploded, the King Was Not to Be Trespassed (Please...)

This kiss was not passionate, but warm and long-lasting.

They held each other, entwining intermittently for over ten minutes until they nearly suffocated before pulling apart.

Feeling the desire in her eyes almost dripping, Li Heng pressed his forehead to hers and teased softly, "You're falling for me?"

For the first time, Mai Sui didn't deny it; her face flushed red as she let out a tiny, mosquito-like "Mm."

Li Heng was delighted, his sense of accomplishment swelling, and he leaned in to kiss the corner of her mouth. "Sleep with me tonight."

Hearing his implied meaning, Mai Sui's body instinctively reacted, but she refused aloud: "No!"

Li Heng nibbled her earlobe, coaxing: "It's winter—seeds won't sprout. I won't till the soil."

Mai Sui still said: "No!"

Li Heng persisted: "I'll just hoe the weeds—no digging."

Mai Sui smiled sweetly, her body burning with shame, and quickly covered his mouth with her hand to stop him from speaking further.

Seeing she held firm to her boundary, Li Heng sighed inwardly and stopped probing; he tightened his arms around her. "I'll sing you a song."

Mai Sui smiled happily. "Okay."

She didn't ask what song—it didn't matter. She'd listen.

Bound by the era, Li Heng didn't sing anything flashy; he sang the classic "Sweet as Honey."

He cleared his throat softly and began to sing:

Sweet as honey, your smile is sweet as honey

Like a flower blooming in the spring breeze

Blooming in the spring breeze

Where, where have I seen you before?

Your smile is so familiar

…

…

Li Heng inherited Li Jianguo's talent—he could play, sing, and perform, and his singing was especially good.

As soon as he opened his mouth, Mai Sui's eyes lit up, filled with tenderness just like the lyrics.

When he finished the last line, he told her: "I give you this song. I hope my Mai Sui is always as sweet as the melody."

Her heart melted; she shifted her head slightly and buried it in his neck, silent for a long time.

He wouldn't have known she was crying if he hadn't felt his neck grow damp.

Li Heng gently wiped her tears with his finger and teased: "A handsome, talented man is right here holding you—be grateful. Don't cry."

Mai Sui laughed through her tears, smiling happily. "I'm grateful."

Li Heng pressed gently: "Then why did you cry?"

Mai Sui grinned mischievously. "I won't tell you."

"I thought it was from being moved," he said.

"Mm. Half and half," she whispered softly.

"Ah, only half? Oh…" Li Heng sighed.

"Oh…" Mai Sui mimicked his sigh.

After the sighs, they looked at each other, then burst out laughing together.

As night deepened, the north wind grew stronger. Li Heng pulled the quilt tighter around her. "Cold?"

Mai Sui nestled against him. "Not cold in your arms."

"Then, how about staying together for three lifetimes?"

"Okay."

With that "okay," silence fell. Then, without words, their heads drifted closer, and they kissed again, involuntarily.

This time, the intensity and motion were far greater, far more passionate—no cold north wind could cool their ardor.

As desire rose, Li Heng grew unsatisfied with just her lips; he trailed down behind her ear, until finally he bit gently on her porcelain-like collarbone.

In just this short while, Mai Sui had transformed—her eyes shimmered, her body radiated allure, fully ripe.

"Mai Sui, really not sleeping with me tonight?" Li Heng kissed her eyelids, voice thick with longing.

She stayed silent. After a long, heavy pause, she slowly shook her head.

Her refusal surprised him—but not unexpectedly. Li Heng stopped pressing her, lifted her into his arms, and gazed calmly upward at the stars.

Mai Sui stared at his face, entranced.

After a long while, she asked hesitantly: "Are you angry with me?"

"No. Because you're my Mai Sui," Li Heng said seriously.

Mai Sui relaxed, but her heart felt strange. "I called home yesterday. Mom told me she had my grandfather's fortune read—he won't live past seventy-two."

Li Heng asked: "What year was your grandfather born?"

Mai Sui replied: "He turns seventy-two next year—his birthday is the fourteenth day of the seventh lunar month."

That leaves only half a year. He comforted her: "Nine out of ten fortune-tellers are fakes. Most are just money traps. Don't take it seriously."

"Mm," Mai Sui nodded obediently.

Once the floodgates opened, they chatted softly until dawn, then returned to their rooms to sleep.

To avoid further temptation, they went back to their own rooms.

As soon as they entered, Yu Guang from the opposite 25 Building also rose and went inside—she didn't turn on the light.

Fifteen minutes later, Zhou Shihe from the neighboring 27 Building also stood up from her attic and went inside—she, too, left the light off.

But Yu Guang had done it intentionally.

Zhou Shihe's action had been unintentional at first.

…

The next day.

When Li Heng woke, he saw Mai Sui.

Before he could speak, she said from beside the bed: "Liao the editor came. And a director too."

Director?

Li Heng quickly dressed and washed up, then met the director Mai Sui mentioned: Zhang Yimou.

As soon as he came downstairs, Zhang Yimou stood and smiled warmly: "Good morning, Teacher Li."

Li Heng smiled back politely—no one hits a smiling face. "Good morning, Director Zhang."

Zhang Yimou looked slightly surprised. "You know me?"

"No need for 'you.' Just call me by name."

Li Heng was courteous, then added: "Three days ago in Jingcheng, I watched your latest film, 'Red Sorghum,' with a friend. It was brilliant—my friend cried through the whole thing.

I thought then: this film will win major awards."

Everyone likes praise, especially from someone of high social standing like Li Heng—his words carried extra weight.

Zhang Yimou's face lit up instantly; his impression of Li Heng soared.

After brief pleasantries, they got straight to the point.

Zhang said: "Teacher Li, I love your work. When I first read 'To Live,' I was deeply moved. I finished it once, then read it two more times straight.

Today, I've come sincerely to buy the film rights to 'To Live.' Such a great work—I want to try adapting it."

Unlike his coldness toward Dai Yue on the plane, Li Heng now showed approachability. He glanced at Liao the editor and nodded.

The negotiation began. Zhang had planned to start with 50, 00 yuan as a Shitan, but seeing Li Heng, he dropped pretense and offered his true limit: 100, 00 yuan.

One hundred thousand was his absolute limit—anything more would force him to tighten his belt, since the film's total budget was only three million, already stretched thin.

After offering, Zhang watched Li Heng nervously, his palms sweating despite the winter cold.

He knew this man wasn't just a writer—he was a musician, a billionaire, someone who didn't care about money. Before coming, he and his team had bought newspapers to study Li Heng.

Based on news reports, they'd roughly estimated Li Heng's wealth—and were stunned.

Over a hundred million!

His fortune might already exceed a hundred million!

This was 1988—when most people still dreamed of becoming a "ten-thousand-yuan household." Yet here was a young man with wealth beyond imagination.

In fame, talent, social status, reputation, and wealth, this man could outclass him in every way. So from the moment they met, Zhang Yimou lowered his posture, hoping to win favor.

As Liao the editor wondered whether to intervene, Li Heng spoke: "Money isn't the issue. I have one condition."

Seeing hope, Zhang quickly said: "Teacher Li, please say it."

Li Heng smiled: "Make it good. Don't disgrace it. Bring the same spirit you used for 'Red Sorghum.' I love your films."

Zhang Yimou was overjoyed. "Absolutely, Teacher Li! I'll spare no effort—I won't let you down."

Zhang hadn't expected Li Heng to agree so easily. All his prepared speeches were wasted—he'd sealed the deal instantly, and he was thrilled.

Next, Zhang took out 100, 00 yuan from his assistant, neatly stacked on the coffee table, and handed it to Li Heng.

Li Heng glanced casually at the money—huh, all new bills, freshly withdrawn from the bank.

With the deal done, Zhang Yimou warmly invited Li Heng and Mai Sui to dinner.

But Mai Sui politely declined, saying she had class.

Zhang Yimou was sharp—he'd sensed from their demeanor that Mai Sui was Li Heng's beloved. He didn't overstay, and left 26 Building with perfect tact.

But no sooner had he stepped outside 26 Building than he froze, staring at Zhou Shihe emerging from 27 Building—stunned, eyes blazing with awe.

Li Heng cleared his throat softly. Zhang Yimou snapped back to reality, embarrassed.

Leaving Lushan Village, everyone went to Lantian Restaurant.

After three rounds of drinks, Zhang Yimou asked Li Heng, "Was that woman just now also a Fudan student? Is she Zhou, the pianist from the Spring Festival Gala?"

Li Heng nodded: "Yes, her."

Zhang Yimou sighed deeply: "To be honest, Li Laoshi, I've been grinding in the entertainment industry for years, seen countless beauties—but today, after seeing her, I finally understand what a true beauty is. I used to be so narrow-minded."

Li Heng and Liao Editor exchanged a glance, neither mocking him; instead, they fully agreed.

Zhang Yimou leaned forward slightly: "I heard she doesn't just play piano exceptionally well—her family background is even more extraordinary?"

Li Heng was surprised: "Did you investigate her background?"

Zhang Yimou was candid: "Once, when casting for a film, one of my assistant casting directors was obsessed with her—but after we learned about her family through CCTV connections, we were terrified and immediately dropped the idea of inviting her to act."

Li Heng smiled and asked: "Just now, you probably felt the urge again to get her to act in your film."

Zhang Yimou shook his head: "I had that thought for an instant, then abandoned it. In our line of work, knowing your own worth is crucial. That kind of family would never let their daughter enter our circle."

Liao Editor added: "Exactly. Besides, she's the only daughter of the Zhou family this generation—they treasure her deeply."

Hearing this, Zhang Yimou, who had already given up hope, now had no hope left.

But soon after, Old Zhang mentioned Wei Xiaozhu from Fudan, saying he'd invited her three times and been refused each time—he now felt deep regret.

Li Heng asked curiously: "Did you go see Wei Xiaozhu again this time?"

Zhang Yimou gave a sheepish smile: "I got thrown out. Her family elders were furious and told us never to bother her again."

Liao Editor suddenly said: "That's right. Better not disturb her at all."

Zhang Yimou froze, then noticed Liao Editor subtly glancing at Li Heng.

Zhang Yimou suddenly understood, relieved—he never mentioned Wei Xiaozhu again for the rest of the meal.

After dinner, Zhang Yimou was extremely enthusiastic and insisted on taking a group photo with Li Heng and Liao Editor.

Naturally, Li Heng stood center, Liao Editor on the right, and Old Zhang on the left.

After the photo, Zhang Yimou proudly told his assistant: "Li Laoshi is a man of true character. We must stay in touch. When we get back, develop that photo and hang it right in the most visible spot in my office."

The assistant could see: Zhang Director held this great writer in extremely high regard—even during their conversation, he'd gone out of his way to flatter him.

Once they left, only Li Heng and Liao Editor remained.

Li Heng asked: "Do you know Zhang Director?"

Liao Editor replied: "We've met a few times in Jingcheng, shared a meal. One of his friends was my college classmate."

No wonder he came to Hushi first to ask Liao Editor to mediate—there was this connection after all.

Li Heng asked: "When you mentioned Wei Xiaozhu, why did you wink at me?"

Liao Editor grinned: "You noticed?"

Li Heng rolled his eyes: "Do you think I'm blind?"

Liao Editor chuckled: "This Zhang Director is wary of you. Wei Xiaozhu is your close friend—by invoking your name, he won't dare bother your Wei classmate again."

Li Heng thought for a moment: "He must've researched me thoroughly before coming."

Liao Editor said: "Actually, no need for deep research. The day you revealed your identity as a writer, so many reporters were all over you—Yu Laoshi handled every detail, welcomed and escorted you everywhere."

And who is Yu Laoshi? Those well-connected reporters knew perfectly well—and naturally, the news spread everywhere."

At this, Liao Editor patted his shoulder with admiration: "Apart from our teacher, with Yu Laoshi's connection, you'll have smooth sailing across the country. This value is incalculable—you must hold onto it."

Li Heng understood his implication: "You also want me to marry Yu Laoshi?"

Liao Editor nodded, then shook his head: "We're family. Whoever you marry, I, Teacher, and Xiao Lin will fully support. But if you really marry Yu Laoshi, you'll avoid countless detours."

Li Heng gave no answer, instead teased: "I thought you'd side with Huang Zhaoyi."

Liao Editor laughed: "Personally, I do side with Zhao Yi. But I also know the chance of you two marrying is slim."

Li Heng still gave no answer, circling around: "Is Xu Jie still in Hushi?"

The Xu Jie he meant was Xu Suyun.

At this, Liao Editor's smile vanished: "Yes."

Li Heng probed: "At your place?"

Liao Editor nodded silently.

Li Heng gave a thumbs-up: "No wonder you're my senior—impressive!"

Liao Editor groaned: "Don't mock me. Are you laughing at me for still being obsessed with Zhao Ran back in Aba?"

Li Heng grinned: "No, absolutely not. Don't overthink it."

Liao Editor pulled out two cigarettes, offered one, lit up, and inhaled deeply: "In matters of love, I've never set a good example for you. I never expected to fall for Suyun so quickly."

Li Heng asked: "Are you serious this time?"

Liao Editor took another deep drag: "I've cut ties with all my past lovers. Now I'm fully devoted to Suyun."

This reminded him of what Yu Laoshi had said: Your senior has long-term affairs with three women—one from TV, two from customs.

Li Heng worried for him: "Yu Laoshi said you're nineteen years apart—her family might oppose it."

Liao Editor said: "They've already come to me once."

Li Heng asked: "How did it go?"

Liao Editor stayed silent.

Clearly, the first talk had failed.

From then on, the two fell into long silence, each lost in thought. To comfort him, Li Heng even smoked two cigarettes with him.

But their smoking habits were fundamentally different.

Li Heng didn't like smoking—he had no habit. He let the smoke pass through his mouth and exhaled, never inhaling into his throat—just going through the motions.

Liao Editor was different: each drag went deep into his lungs. As he said, it was enjoying life.

Liao Editor smoked five cigarettes in a row, then crushed the last butt and pulled a remittance slip from his briefcase: "'Bai Luyuan' sold far better than we expected—4. million copies sold domestically so far. We've also signed overseas publishing agreements with 34 countries and regions. That'll bring you a substantial income."

Li Heng took the slip and looked.

Wow! 2. million!

After confirming the amount, Li Heng blew a kiss to the slip, then said to Liao Editor: "Come with me to the bank."

Liao Editor held him back: "Wait, there's more."

He pulled out another remittance slip: "'To Live' continues selling in over twenty countries and regions—England, France, Japan, Korea, Wanwan. This is the settlement up to November 20. Take it."

Li Heng took the second slip and gasped: "5. 6 million? That much?"

Liao Editor smiled: "Satisfied?"

Li Heng said: "Unexpected windfall—of course I'm satisfied."

Liao Editor said: "After all, it's foreign currency—it's worth something."

Li Heng knew: most of the income from overseas editions went to distributors; what reached him was only a small portion.

But even so, he felt deeply content.

How could he not? Seven point seven six million in one go—this was real wealth!

He imagined: when 'To Live' was filmed and won at the Cannes Film Festival, the book suddenly surged in the global market, selling over twenty million copies worldwide.

If history followed its course, he'd earn another fortune then.

That was precisely why he wanted to sell 'To Live' to renowned director Zhang Yimou—not to Dai Yue.

Because his vision was long-term—he aimed for the global book market, not the petty profit of film rights.

Liao Editor accompanied him to Bank of China and Industrial and Commercial Bank, depositing both sums. After leaving the bank, he invited: "Want to come over for a visit?"

Li Heng glanced at his watch: "Don't joke—I'm still a student. I have to go back to class."

Liao Editor chuckled: "You didn't mention it, I'd almost forgotten you're a student."

Li Heng preened: "That's because I'm just too dazzling in other areas."

"True enough."

Liao Editor agreed, then started the minivan to drive him back to Fudan University. As he drove, he said: "Next time, bring your girlfriend over for dinner."

Since they were kindred spirits, Li Heng didn't pretend: "Which one?"

Liao Editor said: "Whichever comes to mind first."

Li Heng fell silent.

Liao Editor glanced at him, then again, curious: "Who was the first person you thought of?"

Li Heng turned his head toward the window.

Liao Editor pressed: "Xiao Han? Yu Laoshi? Or Mai Sui?"

Li Heng ignored him.

Liao Editor mentally ran through every girl near him, then suddenly asked: "Brother, you didn't just think of Zhou Shihe, did you?"

Li Heng groaned: "Can you stop guessing?"

Liao Editor suppressed a laugh: "I used to think I was good at this. But since meeting you, I realize my skills were child's play—nothing compared to you."

Li Heng rolled his eyes and changed the subject: "You're the chief editor—why don't you ask me about my new book?"

Liao Editor turned left at the intersection: "Do you think I don't want to? But Teacher specifically told me not to ask too soon—he said at your age, your imagination is boundless. Let you roam free, no pressure."

Li Heng felt warm inside: Teacher really had his back—those words sounded so comforting.

As he got out at the campus gate, he remembered the letter Zhao Ran had given him—he wanted to mention it.

But Zhao Ran had firmly told him to wait three months before giving it to Liao Editor. It hadn't even been that long yet—still not the right time.

As he closed the door, Liao Editor called from inside the van: "Come by when you have time!"

"Alright."

Li Heng replied, then without hesitation, walked straight toward the School of Management.

When he rushed to the classroom, the bell rang just as the sixth class began—Quantitative Statistics, taught by an elderly professor.

Li Heng pushed open the door; the professor paused, adjusted his reading glasses, studied him for a moment, then smiled: "Old man here's lucky today—the star of Fudan University actually came to listen to my lecture. I can brag about this for half a year."

The classroom erupted in laughter, all eyes turning to Li Heng.

Li Heng was used to this kind of scene—his face neither flushed nor flustered—he walked to the window, took his usual seat beside Zhang Bing.

Quantitative Statistics was entirely new to Li Heng; he listened with intense focus, took thorough notes, absorbed every word. His obedient demeanor made the professor declare he'd been blessed by heaven that day.

The classroom burst into laughter again.

A girl in the front row passed over a note.

It read: "Great scholar Li, my cousin works in the Shanghai municipal government—she wants to meet you."

Li Heng didn't know how to reply.

But in the end, he gave the girl face—he wrote: " Yuanzeshang ， Wobujianyinibiaojierenshiwo ， Danzhenxiangrenshidehua ， Jiudepaiduilou ， Wogeitabiangehao ， Shunxumuqianshi 998."

The girl received the note, not angry at all—instead, she buried her face in her desk, shoulders shaking as she fought desperately to hold back laughter.

Zhang Bing passed a note: "Li Guang is avoiding me and Bai Wanying. Old Li, any advice?"

Li Heng replied: "He's embarrassed after being rejected. With his optimistic nature, he'll get over it in time—don't worry."

This matched Bai Wanying's analysis exactly; Zhang Bing finally felt at ease.

After the sixth class ended, Chen Guifen handed Li Heng two letters. The girl said nothing, lingered not a moment, and acted entirely like she was just doing her duty.

Zhang Bing whispered: "Pity—Guifen used to be so innocent. Old Hu ruined her."

For the first time, Li Heng heard dissatisfaction toward someone from Zhang Bing's mouth.

Li Heng said nothing, but recalled last night's image: Chen Guifen hugging and groping a boy in the shadow by the roadside.

For the next two classes, he remained as focused as ever.

As soon as the bell rang for the eighth class, he hurried toward Finance Class 1—but halfway there, Li Xian detained him for two minutes.

By the time he reached Finance Class 1, only Zhou Shihe remained.

Zhou the Great was bent over her problems, completely unaware he'd entered.

Li Heng walked over, glanced beside her, then sat down in the seat next to her, patiently waiting for her to finish.

After about five minutes, Zhou Shihe closed her book, capped her pen, turned her plain black-and-white gaze toward him—her entire presence exuded quiet serenity.

Li Heng asked: "Where's Mai Sui?"

Zhou Shihe replied gently: "Tomorrow's weekend—there's a new student sports meet. She and Ye Ning are at the student union meeting; she's the opening ceremony host."

Li Heng involuntarily slapped his forehead: "Damn my terrible memory—she mentioned this to me not long ago. By the way, are you going to watch tomorrow?"

Zhou Shihe shook her head slightly, uninterested.

Li Heng said: "All three of them are in the student union—they won't miss it. You're bored alone at home anyway. Let's go together tomorrow."

Zhou Shihe asked: "Aren't you writing your new book?"

"I am—but I haven't seen Mai Sui host in ages. I just want to watch."

As he spoke, he suddenly realized: "You haven't read my first chapter, have you?"

Zhou Shihe smiled knowingly. "Mm."

Damn it—I left my manuscript unlocked not for you, but for Professor Yu!

Didn't we agree Professor Yu would be the first reader?

Didn't we agree my sly little bride would be the first?

It's all ruined now.

Seeing his expression, Zhou Shihe hesitated: "Did I do something wrong?"

Li Heng said: "No."

Zhou Shihe asked: "You left your manuscript on the desk—for Suisui? Or for Professor Yu?"

Li Heng denied outright: "No. That's too formal between us—we're this close. Anyone reading it is my honor."

Zhou Shihe gave him a strange glance, began packing her books, and said softly: "Professor Yu wants to marry you. Suisui will eventually be your woman. I'll follow the rules from now on."

Meaning: without his permission, she wouldn't enter his study again, wouldn't touch his things.

"Oh come on, you're still being distant—we've spent a year and a half together!" Li Heng said.

Zhou Shihe smiled sweetly: "Not entirely wasted. Come on—I'll treat you to dinner."

Hearing someone was treating him to food, the food-loving Li Heng perked up: "Really?"

Zhou Shihe glanced at him, then walked lightly toward the classroom door.

Watching her slender back, Li Heng understood—she was inviting him to dinner out of guilt. Otherwise, she wouldn't have offered even a thread of kindness.

Or rather, she was repaying a debt, unwilling to owe him too much.

It was after the eighth class; the campus paths were crowded with students.

Since both Li Heng and Zhou Shihe were famous figures at Fudan, nearly every student—male and female—glanced sideways, sneaking looks at them.

Zhou Shihe was used to this—calm and composed, she stepped out of campus and asked: "Where to eat?"

Li Heng scanned the surrounding restaurants: "Anywhere?"

Zhou Shihe said: "Yes."

Li Heng asked: "Any budget limit?"

Zhou Shihe, unusually playful, replied: "You gave me so much money—it's swelling in my pocket."

Li Heng corrected: "It's not me giving you—it's your earned labor."

Zhou Shihe blinked.

Li Heng thought a moment: "I wanted to buy Mai Sui two boxes of dark chocolate from the department store, but I forgot after depositing the money at the bank."

Zhou Shihe said: "Then Blue Sky Restaurant?"

Li Heng beamed: "Lunch at Blue Sky, dinner at Blue Sky—I'm feeling rich as hell."

Zhou Shihe smiled serenely, turned half toward the Wujiaochang direction, and walked.

Her outfit today was striking—a light brown wool sweater, clean tones and simple accessories, just like her: naturally ethereal. Truly, every glance held grace, every step carried poetry.

Sensing his gaze on her, she initially felt nothing—but as time passed, an image involuntarily surfaced in her mind:

Him suddenly pulling open the bathroom door while she was showering.

Recalling that moment, Zhou Shihe suddenly felt uneasy—his gaze felt like infrared, piercing through her clothes, leaving her body exposed, utterly visible to him.

After walking a little farther, Zhou Shihe steadied herself, then pretended to bend down to tie her shoelace, hoping he'd walk ahead.

But Li Heng stopped too, standing beside her, watching her tie it.

Zhou Shihe paused, loosened the left lace, retied it, then loosened the right lace and retied it. She waited. He didn't move. So she did it again—loosened the left, retied; loosened the right, retied.

Li Heng finally spoke: "Comrade Zhou? Are you performing a shoelace demonstration for me? Honestly, your butterfly knot is excellent—why don't you tie mine too?"

He added: "Besides, no one's around here—no one will see."

Hearing this, Zhou Shihe's delicate lips pursed tightly, then sucked in a breath, brushed her hair back behind her ear, stood up, and walked quietly forward, head down.

Li Heng caught up, then quickened his pace to pass her, muttering: "If I were a girl, if I were as beautiful as you, I'd want everyone staring at me, walking five laps around campus every day, driving the boys wild with desire and the girls green with envy. How could you be so stingy? Is it because you're too beautiful that I have to cover my eyes with a towel just to walk beside you...?"

Zhou Shihe looked up at him, then looked again—her tightly pursed cherry lips slowly relaxed.

At one point, she even let slip the faintest, almost imperceptible smile.

Li Heng turned back.

She instantly froze, erasing the smile like a startled bird.

Li Heng studied her face for a moment, then suddenly said: "Don't play tricks—I've got eyes in the back of my head."

Feeling his invasive gaze, Zhou Shihe subtly turned her head away, avoiding his eyes.

But half a minute later, seeing he still stared, she turned back, met his gaze with dignified composure, her red lips trembling slightly as if to speak.

But who was Li Heng? A seasoned veteran—he gave her no chance. He withdrew his gaze and strode forward toward Wujiaochang.

Watching his figure grow distant, Zhou Shihe stood still, feeling drained, powerless—then finally stepped forward, walking slowly after him.

Arriving at Wujiaochang, seeing Zhou the Great hadn't arrived yet, Li Heng decided to wait by the roasted sweet potato stall.

Zhang Bing was busy roasting sweet potatoes, Tang Daoling was slicing braised meats, Bai Wanying was collecting money.

Wei Xiaozhu and Wei Sisi were also helping—one packing orders, the other selecting braised dishes from a basin for customers.

Li Heng stood nearby, watching a moment: "Why's business so good today?"

Before anyone at the stall could answer, a local Shanghai auntie smiled brightly:

"I came all the way from Jing'an—I heard you sometimes appear here on weekends, Great Writer. Turns out the rumors are true—I came for the first time and found you!"

Li Heng was stunned.

Zhang Bing, Tang Daoling, Wei Xiaozhu, Wei Sisi, and Bai Wanying all turned to look. They'd been wondering why business kept booming—why so many customers came from outside the district.

Now they finally understood.

Of course—the braised meats hadn't changed. Even if delicious, how could they draw customers from beyond Yangpu? Besides, Jing'an had its own braised meat stalls.

Li Heng pointed at himself, incredulous: "Auntie, you came for me?"

"Of course," the auntie said, gesturing to two sisters behind her. "We came together."

One sister even brought a camera, asking to take a photo with Li Heng.

Li Heng gladly agreed. With the braised meat stall as backdrop, they took a group photo.

Amid chatter, Li Heng chatted with these customers for a long time, realizing many were outsiders—come specifically for him. He never imagined he'd become the unofficial ambassador of this braised meat stall.

Damn it all—where do I even go to complain about this?

Zhou Shihe arrived—but didn't approach. She stood at a distance, watching him chat with a crowd of elders.

Budebushuo ， Tashiyezhongdemourenhaishitingnengshuohuidaode ， Xiaohuigongfujiubadajiadoudekaihuaibuyi 。 Yixiazi ， Luzhutanweichenglewujiaoguangchangbijiaorenaodedifang 。

【300】 Undeniably, the man in her field of vision was still quite eloquent—in just a short while, he had everyone laughing heartily. Suddenly, the braised meat stall became one of the liveliest spots in Wujiaochang.

After about ten minutes, Li Heng finally broke free and walked up to her. "Sorry to keep you waiting," he said.

Zhou Shihe gave a slight nod and walked toward the Blue Sky Hotel.

He followed.

She asked, "Is Wei Xiaozhu here too? I thought I saw her through the crowd."

"She is. Wearing a yellow plaid shirt," Li Heng said.

Zhou Shihe glanced back at the stall, lost in thought.

Li Heng asked, "Should we call Wei Xiaozhu and the others over for dinner?"

Zhou Shihe said, "Can you leave?"

Li Heng said, "There are too many people today. You probably can't leave anytime soon—but we can wait a bit longer, if you're not hungry."

He said this because he knew she and Wei Xiaozhu were close; she'd even invited Wei Xiaozhu to her hometown in Hangcheng during summer break.

Zhou Shihe said, "Then let's wait a little longer. I'll go shopping with you first."

"Alright." Without delay, they turned and headed the other way, entering the department store.

He couldn't remember how many times he'd bought dark chocolate, but Mai Sui loved it—and somehow never gained weight. Wasn't that enviable?

Every time he stepped into the store, the staff recognized him, knowing he'd come again for chocolate.

He walked straight to the chocolate section, picked out two boxes, then asked her, "Anything you want to buy?"

Zhou Shihe pondered. "I'm thinking about buying a TV."

Li Heng said, "Buy it if you want. It's nothing to you—just a word and the credits are settled."

Zhou Shihe said softly, "I don't like watching TV alone."

Li Heng understood. "You still haven't adjusted to Building 27?"

Zhou Shihe nodded. "Being home alone always feels too quiet."

Li Heng said, "It's because the house is too big."

Zhou Shihe walked over to the TV section, examined them, but couldn't decide.

Seeing this, Li Heng said, "Our houses are right next to each other. If you want to watch TV, just come over. You have the key—it's convenient. And Mai Sui will be there with you."

Hearing this, Zhou Shihe turned and walked away.

Li Heng was stunned, then caught on and hurried after her. "Why do I feel tricked? Don't you just wait for me to say that?"

Zhou Shihe looked at him, then again, holding back a smile—until she couldn't anymore, and laughed gently.

The braised dish stall was still crowded, so they didn't go over, but wandered around instead. He asked, "How's my new book?"

Zhou Shihe, walking ahead, didn't turn. "Dust Settles?"

Li Heng said, "Yes."

Zhou Shihe said, "Good."

Li Heng chewed his lip, gazing at her beautiful profile.

Zhou Shihe bought a bottle of ink at a general store. "I love Dust Settles as much as Bai Luyuan. Your prose is exquisite—you've improved greatly."

Li Heng believed her, delighted. "So I plan to finish writing the new book before publishing. The cycle will be longer."

Hearing this, Zhou Shihe looked at him, as if to speak, then held back.

They had spent so much time together, even lived under the same roof for over forty-two days. In some way, they'd developed a quiet understanding—she needed only a glance, and he knew.

Li Heng spoke up: "With our relationship, no need to be so formal. Whether it's Teacher Yu or you, as soon as I finish the manuscript, whoever has time can read it. Read it whenever you want—don't be shy."

He didn't mention Mai Sui.

Because in his heart, Mai Sui was his woman.

Zhou Shihe said quietly, "Alright."

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(End of chapter)