Chapter 91: Sweet Bombshell (Please Subscribe!)

The boss, seeing a customer arrive, greeted warmly, “What would you like to eat?”

Li Heng’s attention was entirely on the girl two tables away; he said nothing, merely pointed his right hand at the steamed dumplings, indicating he wanted one serving.

The dumplings were ready-made, and there weren’t many left in the bamboo steamer; the boss, familiar with the routine, swiftly grabbed a white porcelain plate and used bamboo tweezers to place exactly ten dumplings on it.

There were two dipping sauces: sesame paste and chili sauce.

Li Heng, with his refined tastes, scooped a spoonful of each sauce and placed them at opposite ends of the white porcelain plate, then carried it gently over to sit quietly across from Xiao Han, taking the seat previously occupied by Yang Yingwen.

Xiao Han paid it no mind, assuming it was her best friend returning from the restroom, and continued eating her wontons with her head down.

Before she could take a bite, she smelled the faint, clean scent of soapberry drifting slowly toward her.

Without looking up, she knew who it was, and smiled wryly.

In middle school, she had first smelled this soapberry scent on him, and had once been utterly obsessed with it.

During holiday market days, she had teamed up with two girlfriends to scour every alley and street, finally finding the same soapberry in a corner stall at the agricultural market.

Ever since, she had declared she would wash her clothes only with this soapberry—a habit that left Wei Shiman questioning reality.

Wei Shiman had demanded of her daughter, “We have better options at home; why do you insist on this cheap stuff?”

Xiao Han’s reply was casual: “I just like the way it smells.”

Wei Shiman didn’t understand; she had repeatedly stashed the cheap soapberry away in a corner, even thrown it out.

Yet afterward, she would always buy more and bring it back.

To this, Wei Shiman had once brandished a feather duster and boldly threatened her:

“Your father is the town mayor; if you keep using things that don’t match our family’s status, I’ll cut off your allowance.”

Fearing the allowance would be cut, Xiao Han had indeed stopped for a while—but later resumed using it, leaving Wei Shiman utterly exasperated and finally giving up trying to control her.

Xiao Han, lost in thoughts of these innocent, romantic memories, felt a pure joy spreading through her heart—what did it even mean that he came to find her?

Does it mean our story isn’t over yet?

Just as she was troubled by these thoughts, Li Heng spoke.

He explained the misunderstanding in one sentence: “The food I ate when I had a fever came from Sun Man’s house; that day happened to be her birthday, so the dishes were especially elaborate.”

After saying this, he offered no further explanation, only gazed quietly at her, waiting patiently for her to process it.

No one wishes the matchmaker god isn’t on their side—and she was no exception.

Since falling for him, every encounter, every thing related to him, she had treated as sacred jade, believing it was heaven’s guidance.

She had labeled them all with the name “love.”

He had come to find her, and explained why; suddenly, the rain that day didn’t seem so unpleasant anymore—the sky had color, the rain had meaning.

Seeing him still staring at her, Xiao Han finally couldn’t bear the pressure; she feigned calmness and slowly lifted her head.

His clean, sculpted face, with features that captivated young hearts, his deep pupils gleaming with bright black light, his smile warm and gentle.

In an instant, she was moved by his face; the coldness she had clung to for a month shattered completely in that moment.

She found herself ridiculous, pitiful—as if her fate had been gripped in his hand, with no escape.

She didn’t believe in fate. But before this love for him, she could selfishly forgive him once.

Of course, in public, she remained the poised, composed, aloof girl she always was—only lightly pursing her lips, gazing at him, saying nothing.

This was her last bit of pretense: if you don’t say hello first, I won’t speak a word. Speak, and I’m a puppy.

Their eyes met; Li Heng knew her temperament instantly, and immediately decided to satisfy her small vanity and pride.

He smiled and said, “Don’t misunderstand—I came to find you because I left something at your place.”

The words “don’t misunderstand” caused the blood surging in her chest to sink threefold.

She feigned calmness, asking casually, “What did you leave?”

Li Heng said, “Help me look—check your pockets, see if it’s there.”

At first, Xiao Han remained unmoved.

But in the end, she succumbed to the allure of his eyes; she carefully patted both pockets—and found nothing.

She pursed her lips and said, “No.”

Li Heng leaned forward, his eyes puzzled: “Really not? I clearly left my soul with you—did you hide it away this month?”

She instinctively wanted to say no.

But the next second, her cherry lips pressed shut again; under his warm, close breath, her cheeks slowly flushed crimson, and she involuntarily lowered her head.

A faint blush crept upward, painting her peach-like cheeks, her dimples glowing like dawn light—no wonder he’d once called her one of the two most beautiful women he’d ever seen; Li Heng stared, truly moved, and praised sincerely: “Your dimples are beautiful.”

For the first time being gazed upon so intently by her beloved, Xiao Han screamed inside: Calm down, you little fool! Calm down! You’re the one who suffered—don’t back down!

But the shy girl still faltered; her head sank lower, her chin nearly touching her chest, the crimson flush spreading across her face in an unbelievable rush.

At that moment, she felt her entire body burning—hot enough to cook an egg.

Time passed in silence; in this absolute quiet, some burden between them seemed to vanish, and the iron chains binding their hearts broke one by one in the flush of color.

At one moment, Li Heng poked the dumpling with his chopsticks, breaking the silence:

“Oh no, look at my dumpling.”

Hearing this, Xiao Han, with nowhere left to hide, gave herself a little reassurance and lifted her head obediently.

Li Heng pointed at the dumpling and asked, “Do you notice anything different?”

Her gaze dropped; she studied it carefully for a long while, then shook her head.

Li Heng picked up a dumpling with his chopsticks and held it before her: “Look again.”

Xiao Han focused again, scrutinizing it—still shook her head.

Li Heng gestured for her to open her mouth: “Then eat it. If you still can’t tell the difference, I’ll tell you the answer.”

Xiao Han laughed bitterly and opened her mouth: “You’re not just teasing me, are you?”

She silently added inside: You just want to feed me.

Li Heng smiled and placed the dumpling on her lips.

She bit into it a few times, chewed again, until she swallowed it—still tasted nothing unusual.

Li Heng picked up another dumpling with a broken skin and spoke to himself: “Look at this dumpling—it’s broken. When you care about someone, you can’t hide it. Just like I care about you—it’s spilled out.”

Hearing these tender words for the first time, Xiao Han once again couldn’t withstand the sweet blow and lowered her head; under the table, her right hand gripped her trembling left hand tightly.

In the wonton broth, her stunningly beautiful face was reflected; slowly, a barely noticeable smile curled at her lips—clever, gentle, her eyebrows and eyes nearly closing into honeyed arcs.

Out of the corner of her eye, she sensed him leaning in to watch her; Xiao Han felt embarrassed, took a deep breath, tilted her head, and opened her mouth to ask why he was acting this way today—had he stopped pursuing Song Yu? But she saw him just then pull back his head and sit upright.

Xiao Han wanted to speak several times, but held back each time—she was afraid.

Afraid that if she spoke, and didn’t win, their fragile new connection, painstakingly built, would vanish again.

For the past month, Yang Yingwen had seen her as elegant, carefree, detached.

But only Xiao Han knew: wherever he appeared, her peripheral vision had always followed him, never once leaving him.

This feeling—so close, yet as distant as the horizon—was exhausting, agonizing, so agonizing she had grown afraid.

Now that the misunderstanding was cleared, and he had offered her a way out, she was willing to retreat with dignity.

Li Heng naturally placed the second dumpling on her bowl and said, “I’m treating you to dumplings—to apologize.”

After saying this, Li Heng, to her astonishment, began shoveling dumplings into his mouth one after another, eating heartily.

Xiao Han’s face was full of surprise because, after knowing him so many years, she had rarely seen him lower his pride to apologize.

Even last time at the girls’ dormitory entrance, he had first delivered a long string of boastful words before quietly slipping in the three words: “I’m sorry.”

Xiao Han spent several minutes digesting what had just happened, then spoke clearly:

“If you’re apologizing for the chicken, fish, and meat, I don’t think it’s necessary—it was my own fault. If it’s about Song Yu—”

She smiled sweetly at him, jokingly: “Then it’s even less necessary.”

Li Heng placed the last dumpling in his mouth, chewed, swallowed, took a sip of hot tea, and said: “Xiao Han, right?”

He called her name unexpectedly; she froze: “Huh?”

Li Heng raised his hand and called out: “Boss, another bowl of wontons—same seasoning as hers. Xiao Han, do you like me?”

Xiao Han’s mind didn’t catch up; she was even more stunned: “Huh???”

The next instant, she pressed her right hand over her wildly pounding heart, her face flushed but feigning indifference: “Mr. Li, you’d better not joke like that.”

Fine—about “Do you like me?” she neither denied nor admitted.

She didn’t deny it: she did like him, she did love him.

She didn’t admit it: everything now was far from her imagined ideal; she was afraid, terrified, and unwilling.

Above all, she was unwilling!

She knew his heart held Song Yu, and perhaps even Chen Zijin’s shadow; until he surpassed them, the aloof girl wouldn’t yield easily.

At least, not without first testing whether she could defeat them—such surrender would contradict her lifelong pride.

Seeing him gaze at her seriously, she once again lost some of her earlier boldness, her eyebrows curving gently, adding a soft tone:

“Don’t misunderstand—not every girl can be swayed by your handsome face.”

Li Heng laughed, and understood why she clung to her denial.

Probably, she couldn’t accept how much he liked Song Yu, so she’d rather forfeit this chance to draw closer.

He sighed inwardly—he’d be perfectly willing to start with her if she didn’t mind.

After all, Song Yu or Xiao Han—getting either one was fine.

But he also understood: neither Song Yu nor Xiao Han was easy to win over; both had their own dignity and pride.

Having failed once, Li Heng wasn’t discouraged.

After all, he’d already been turned down several times by Song Yu; one more rejection here was normal, even balanced.

Li Heng came back to himself and declared confidently: “Then you’re treating me to dinner—to make up for it.”

Xiao Han blinked, forced to perform, and said pitifully, “Alright.”

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(End of chapter)