Chapter 37: One glance and you can tell it was a woman who did the scratching

White light flashed repeatedly; the red ahead was obvious, the cold‑white skin exposed by the light looked slightly overexposed, and the face couldn't be made out.

Wen Ling let out a long moan, tilted her chin up, her slender, whitish fingertips gripping Zhou Yinhe's arm, her nails leaving scratches on his arm.

Before exhaustion knocked her out, Wen Ling strained to lift her gaze at Zhou Yinhe lying nearby, his face flushed with a faint red, then she hugged him contentedly and fell completely asleep.

When she woke up, it was just past one o'clock; the room was dim, with only a bedside lamp casting a faint yellow glow.

Wen Ling moved, and even her waist and legs felt sore; she frowned slightly, looking at the spot where Zhou Yinhe had lain, now empty.

She startled, sat up, and only then noticed Zhou Yinhe sitting on a nearby sofa, head bowed, his expression unreadable.

"Baobao…" Wen Ling called hesitantly.

Zhou Yinhe remained silent for a moment before lifting his head to look at her, his voice hoarse: "Sorry."

Wen Ling looked at his eyes through the yellowish light, seeing a thin sheen of moisture glinting in the glow.

Had he been crying?

Wen Ling pressed her lips together and shook her head, her voice hoarse: "It was me who deliberately got you drunk."

Zhou Yinhe had already dressed; as he stood up now, Wen Ling could no longer make out his expression.

He said softly: "I should go back now. Goodbye."

Wen Ling opened her mouth, watching him walk out of the room, but couldn't get the words out.

She lay there in silence for a while, for the first time thinking, "Maybe I should just let it go," feeling that forcing him was also torturing herself.

The driver had been waiting at Lang Po Wan since Zhou Yinhe woke up; when Zhou Yinhe came out, the driver drove him away.

Zhou Yinhe remained silent, not speaking, his phone buzzing nonstop; she glanced at it—it was a group message from their childhood friends.

Ke Chengyu: 【@Zhouwu, red‑haired teen, come out, Nys is waiting for you.】

Zhou Yinhe furrowed his brows; they knew dyeing his hair was perfectly normal, and the hot‑pot restaurant owner would surely gossip about it.

He had originally wanted to pretend he hadn't seen it and not go, but then thought that even if he went back he wouldn't sleep and would just overthink, so he agreed and told the driver in the front seat to turn around and head for Nys.

He walked slowly into the private room, and as soon as he entered he flung himself onto the sofa, closing his eyes and lying still.

Seeing this, Ke Chengyu walked over, bent down to look at him, and asked curiously, "What's with that look?"

Zhou Yinhe opened his eyes to glance at him, then closed them wearily, saying lazily, "Nothing."

Ke Chengyu paused, about to speak, when he noticed several red marks under Zhou Yinhe's rolled‑up sleeve.

At a glance it was obvious they were from a woman's nails.

He frowned, grabbed Zhou Yinhe's arm, and demanded, "Who scratched your arm?"

Zhou Yinhe impatiently shook off his hand, intending to lie back down, but Qi Zhan and Jiang Jibai had already walked over and were staring at him, so he couldn't even lie down now.

Jiang Jibai recalled the message his friend had sent him earlier that day and asked, "Wen Ling?"

Zhou Yinhe pressed his lips together and hummed in affirmation.

Qi Zhan's gaze was full of frustrated disappointment, while Jiang Jibai raised an eyebrow, sat beside Zhou Yinhe, and asked, "You haven't been around these past two days—how's the progress moving so fast?"

"You guys are such gossipmongers," Zhou Yinhe said irritably, scratching his head; Ke Chengyu's gaze shifted to his hair and he chuckled, "Last time at the Luminous Feast you just did a temporary dye—what, did Wen Ling think it looked good so you dyed it?"

Zhou Yinhe's face was cold as he said flatly, "I'm not playing—I'm leaving."

"Just playing, aren't we worried about you?" Ke Chengyu gave the other two a look; they shrugged and went to find others, leaving only the two of them on the sofa.

Ke Chengyu tried to talk to Zhou Yinhe in a serious tone, but Zhou Yinhe kept his mouth shut, refusing to speak no matter what Ke Chengyu said.

Having no other recourse, Ke Chengyu said bluntly, "You just came from Wen Ling's place?"

Zhou Yinhe hummed in agreement, and Ke Chengyu laughed, "Looks like you didn't make up—otherwise you wouldn't have left in the middle of the night."

He looked at Zhou Yinhe's solemn face and teased, "Not making up with her, yet acting like this and leaving late at night—what a jerk."

Zhou Yinhe pressed his lips together again and fell silent once more.

"Fine, jerk—I was trying to give you some advice, but since you won't talk, I can't do anything; just stew in your own misery." Having said that, Ke Chengyu started to get up.

Zhou Yinhe suddenly said, "How are you going to advise me?"

Ke Chengyu snorted at the words, sat back down, and asked, "Who made the first move?"

Zhou Yinhe didn't really want to talk about this with Wen Ling, but he did want Ke Chengyu's advice, so he awkwardly turned his face aside and spat out a single word: "Her."

Ke Chengyu had already smelled the alcohol on him: "Are you pretending to be drunk?"

"Mm." Zhou Yinhe's ears were red; he had already guessed as much when Wen Ling poured him his first drink.

"Alright, you've got some cunning—so why did you leave again? Why not just stay and take the chance to make up?"

"I haven't figured it out." Zhou Yinhe felt he was indeed a bit of a jerk, and for the first time he confessed to his friend: "Whenever I see her I want to get close, but once I'm near her I remember how lowly I was three years ago."

Ke Chengyu truly cared for his brother, speaking gently: "At the end of the day, you still want to make up."

Zhou Yinhe lowered his head and remained silent for a long time before finally humming in agreement.

"Then let's try again—what if things are different from three years ago?"

"What if they're the same?"

"If you don't try, how will you know it'll be the same?" Ke Chengyu said, then stood up and walked away.

Zhou Yinhe leaned on the sofa for a while, then left silently.

He sat in the car, for the first time despising his own awkward indecision.

Ruan MiaoMiao returned to the Qin Family; Qin Lao was reclining on a garden lounge chair, eyes narrowed as he basked in the sun, while ten‑year‑old Qin Yuyang played a game not far away.

Qin Yuyang saw her come, ran over happily, grabbed Ruan MiaoMiao's hand and cooed, "Sis, why haven't you come back for so long?"

Ruan MiaoMiao glanced at Qin Lao, who had lifted his gaze to look at her, and said aggrievedly, "Grandfather, a few days ago at the banquet I ran into my female cousin; she framed me, saying I had scolded her, causing many people to believe her and distance themselves from me, and I barely managed to clear things up."

Qin Lao frowned, his visage stern, his voice deep: "There's still this? Why didn't you say so earlier?"

Ruan MiaoMiao went to Qin Lao's side, squatted down and took his hand, sobbing, "I was afraid you'd think I was trying to drive a wedge between you and my cousin, so I didn't dare speak."

Qin Lao sat up straight, patted Ruan MiaoMiao's hand, and sighed: "That cousin of yours has been spoiled rotten by her grandfather since childhood—don't hold a grudge against her."

Ruan MiaoMiao lowered her eyes to hide the fleeting dissatisfaction, pressed her lips together, and said, "I won't hold a grudge against my cousin."

Qin Yuyang came over, pulled Wen Ling aside to play; Ruan MiaoMiao was led by his hand, lost in thought.

Although Qin Lao believed her words, he would definitely not, for her sake, truly fall out with Wen Ling.