Chapter 234: Petty man

Zhou Yinhe lightly lifted his eyes, the corners of his lips moist.

"Because, I love you."

Wen Ling chuckled, lifted her head, narrowed her eyes, reached out and grabbed his hair, tightening her five fingers with some force.

Later they returned to the room, the curtains were open, and outside it had already grown dark.

Wen Ling lay quietly on her side, gazing out the window, while Zhou Yinhe gently embraced her.

"You should go."

"Where to?" Zhou Yinhe closed his eyes, rubbing against Wen Ling's neck, a gesture he had always liked, always rubbing left and right, like acting coquettish, also subconscious.

Wen Ling pressed her lips into a straight line, steeled herself and said: "This time it was an accident; don't come looking for me again."

Zhou Yinhe slowly opened his eyes to watch her back, not at all unhappy because of her words.

He understood Wen Ling's stubbornness, so he didn't want her to feel hurt after saying harsh words and driving him away; thus he smiled lightly, tightened his arms, and joked: "There's no one like you who uses someone then kicks them out—how heartless. I'm not leaving; I'll stay right here."

Wen Ling bit her lip, her lips losing color from the action; what had just happened left her unable to recover for a while, and her body still throbbed.

She couldn't deny that she also missed him, longing for their past sweet interactions; having been immersed in that recent encounter, she inexplicably had other thoughts.

Or just forget it; I was the one who suggested breaking up, and now he comes seeking reconciliation while I act stubborn—how bad, how sorry I'd feel toward him.

Yet another thought kept surfacing.

What if he wants to reconcile only to dump me later? Or just to get revenge on me? Could I bear the pain of heartache while also losing face?

Wen Ling understood herself; she couldn't bear it—but—

The steady warmth coming from behind made her feel an inexplicable sense of grievance; in the scorching summer, the room was cool, and she was embraced by the one she loved—how could she not enjoy it? Yet she couldn't understand.

"I've already dumped you—why do you still come looking for me? Are you trying to get revenge?"

Wen Ling's voice was soft, yet loud enough for Zhou Yinhe to hear; he closed his eyes, the corners of his mouth turning up, and explained: "I can't forget you, I miss you, I miss you so much I can't sleep."

Wen Ling tugged at the corner of her mouth, half-believing, half-doubting; Zhou Yinhe couldn't guess her thoughts, so he sat up straight, stared at her, and said seriously: "I'm not joking with you."

"……" Wen Ling turned her head to look at his face, remained silent for a moment, then gave an awkward hum, and turned her head back to continue looking out the window.

Zhou Yinhe poked his head over to glance at her expression; seeing nothing unusual, he lay back down honestly.

Last night he barely slept, aside from getting used to the bed, he kept thinking about how to win Wen Ling back.

Whether it actually happened or was a manipulated dream, it was Wen Ling who came back to pursue herself; so what difference would it make if he pursued her in return? Why must a man always save face? He couldn't possibly worry about face while trying to win back his wife, right? Besides, when had he ever had any face in front of Wen Ling? Except for that period when she chased him and he acted all sentimental.

When they were tired, their thoughts coincidentally aligned, each engaging in self-PUA.

Zhou Yinhe hadn't slept long when the doorbell downstairs rang, waking him; Wen Ling, annoyed, pulled the covers over her head, so Zhou Yinhe had to get up and go downstairs to open the door.

Lu Zhaoye leaned against the doorway, a cigarette still between his lips; as Zhou Yinhe opened the door, a hot breeze blew in, bringing with it a strong smell of tobacco.

He covered his nose, coldly despising Lu Zhaoye.

Lu Zhaoye hadn't expected him to be there, frowned slightly in puzzlement, and said coldly: "How come you're here?"

Zhou Yinhe stopped covering his nose, inadvertently tugged at his collar, revealing the mark on his collarbone; in an instant, Lu Zhaoye understood.

He gritted his teeth, cursing Zhou Yinhe fiercely in his heart, yet his expression remained light and breezy, as if he didn't care at all; he snorted lazily and said: "Oh, is that so?"

Lu Zhaoye lifted his foot to step inside, but Zhou Yinhe shifted a step to block him.

"A Ling is tired and still sleeping; it wouldn't be convenient for you to come in."

"Really?" Lu Zhaoye raised an eyebrow, smiling lightly: "Don't you know there's still my room in A Ling's house?"

Zhou Yinhe glared at him fiercely; the vinegar jar in his heart was overturned, sour gas rushing up to his nostrils, almost bringing tears to his eyes.

Lu Zhaoye wore a provocative expression, then was shoved hard by Zhou Yinhe before he could react, and the door in front of him had already been shut.

He suppressed a laugh, walked to the nearby floor-to-ceiling window, watched Zhou Yinhe stride up the stairs with long steps, his back radiating anger, and he felt pleased.

"Petty man."

Zhou Yinhe returned to the second floor, opened each room's door to take a look, and indeed there was a relatively neutral-style secondary bedroom!

He was about to die of anger, strode quickly to Wen Ling's room; she was still asleep, and he shook her body to wake her.

"What are you doing?" Wen Ling asked without even opening her eyes, helpless and annoyed.

Zhou Yinhe, feeling wronged and angry, questioned her: "Why do you have Lu Zhaoye's room here?"

Wen Ling blinked open her eyes sleepily, glanced at him, then closed them again, murmuring: "What Lu Zhaoye's room?"

"That secondary bedroom over there!"

She was so exhausted she couldn't even hear Zhou Yinhe's words; her whole body felt sore and weak, she couldn't sit up and flopped back onto the bed.

Zhou Yinhe knelt beside the bed, pressing his lips together while sniffing, jabbing at Wen Ling's face, determined to wake her and get an explanation; his mind had already forgotten that they had broken up.

Wen Ling, annoyed by his poking, sat up in a huff and glared at him: "Are you sleeping or not? If not, get lost."

"Why are you keeping a room for Lu Zhaoye?" Zhou Yinhe asked, pouting with resentment.

"When did I ever reserve a room for Lu Zhaoye?" Wen Ling grabbed her hair, gritted her teeth: "You just randomly guessed and came to disturb my sleep? Don't you know it's immoral to disturb someone's rest, especially after all that?"

Zhou Yinhe grabbed her hand to keep her from falling, pointed toward the secondary bedroom, and said unhappily: "I didn't just guess; Lu Zhaoye just came and told me he said he has a room here at your place."

Wen Ling frowned, looked in the direction he pointed, and after a moment realized what he meant.

To stop him from nagging endlessly, Wen Ling gave him a sideways glance and said: "That room has always existed; no one has ever lived in it. So far, aside from me, you're the second person to stay here."

"Are you satisfied now?" Wen Ling signaled him to release her hand: "If you are, let go; I want to sleep."

Zhou Yinhe's heart was already blooming with excitement; he nearly wanted to shout a few times, obediently withdrew his hand, and smiled meekly: "Then you sleep; I'll sleep too."