Chapter 60: One Way to Torment Zhou Yinhe

Just as you came, I'll perform for you.

Without waiting for Zhou Yinhe to speak, she began with her hands.

Seeing her slender, white-jade-like fingers turn red from the hot water–heated lidded bowl lid, Zhou Yinhe several times tried to reach out to stop her, but Wen Ling showed little reaction.

I didn't learn the traditional kind; I'm more into the fancy style. The lidded bowl lid turned once on the lidded bowl, she smiled and said: "Lu Zhaoye says I learned this just to show off, and sometimes I even think that myself."

Hearing Wen Ling mention that name, a flicker of unusual emotion crossed his eyes; Wen Ling didn't notice, poured tea into a tasting cup, and placed it before Zhou Yinhe.

Zhou Yinhe reached out to touch the cup's side; the heat made him hiss, but he forced himself to lift it and take a sip.

Before he could swallow, Wen Ling softly said: "I know you slept beside me that night."

Zhou Yinhe's hand trembled, nearly dropping the cup; guilty yet stubborn, he said: "You were lying next door, I couldn't help myself."

Wen Ling slowly nodded; just as Zhou Yinhe was about to continue making excuses, she suddenly changed tone, coldly saying: "Why did you answer my call and then block Lu Zhaoye?"

The cup really fell this time—first onto Zhou Yinhe's leg, then to the ground, shattering into pieces.

Zhou Yinhe reflexively stood up, patted the spot scalded by hot water, saw Wen Ling unmoved, and complained pitifully: "He kept calling you; I answered fearing I'd disturb you, and I blocked him only after he provoked me on the phone."

"Really?" Wen Ling didn't believe him; he always acts innocent before her, but is actually worse than anyone.

"Mm, I'm not lying." Zhou Yinhe went around the table, knelt before Wen Ling's knees, took her hand and blew on it, softly asking: "Does it hurt?"

Wen Ling lowered her gaze at him, not saying whether it hurt, only lightly: "You broke one of my cups, so this tea set is incomplete; I spent a lot of money to acquire it, you broke it, you must compensate me."

Zhou Yinhe lifted his head, rubbed his cheek against her palm, and coaxed: "My dad once acquired a set like this; I'll go get it this afternoon and give it to you."

Wen Ling hummed in acknowledgment, then withdrew her hand.

Sit, drink tea.

She deliberately urged him to drink, watching him hiss from the burn without end, she lowered her head, pressed her lips, and held back laughter.

Seeing him drink a bellyful of tea, his fingertips also scorched red, Wen Ling finally stopped and said: "Aren't you supposed to fetch the tea set for me? Go now."

Zhou Yinhe blinked: "Now?"

"Mm, once you bring it back we can have dinner." Wen Ling nodded; seeing him unmoving, she asked: "Or are you just deceiving me earlier, actually not wanting to get it for me?"

"I'm going now." Zhou Yinhe stood and headed out; Wen Ling watched his back, finally couldn't help laughing out loud, lifted the warm tea before her, took a sip, grimaced, and set it down again.

She likes to torment others with tea art, yet she herself doesn't like drinking tea; today's tea table was deliberately set up, originally intending after use to have Zhou Auntie and others move it next door, where the decor is more Chinese-styled, and they'd use it when idle.

At home she prefers pajamas; she stood up, preparing to go back to her room to take off her cheongsam, and when she reached the second floor she glanced back at the natural-wood-colored tea table, curling her lips.

Although it doesn't match the villa's overall style, I'll keep it anyway—consider it one way to torment Zhou Yinhe.

Zhou Yinhe soon returned; Wen Ling was curled on the sofa rewatching the variety show she'd seen last time.

He placed the box holding the tea set on the table; just then the TV switched to the pretty female celebrity Wen Ling liked most from her previous viewing.

Zhou Yinhe furrowed his brows: "How can you watch her variety show?"

"What's wrong? It's quite good; she's sharp-tongued, and I even want to learn from her."

"Haven't I mentioned it to you before?" Zhou Yinhe sat beside Wen Ling, lifted her leg and rested it on his own.

Wen Ling adjusted her posture accordingly, puzzled: "What?"

"This is my sister, my second sister—the woman who trended with me." Zhou Yinhe reflected: three years ago Zhou Qiyue indeed wasn't active much in Hua Guo domestically, and since Zhou Qiyue has never disclosed her family, it's possible Wen Ling doesn't know her.

"Really?" Wen Ling sat up straight with an admiring look: "Could you ask her for an autograph for me?"

"I'll give you my autograph, want it?" Zhou Yinhe leaned in to kiss her.

Wen Ling turned her face away, disdainful: "I don't want it; what use is your autograph?"

"It's useful in many ways." Zhou Yinhe didn't hesitate, planting a kiss on Wen Ling's soft cheek.

"No, you keep it yourself." Wen Ling lay back down and continued watching TV.

Zhou Yinhe's phone, tossed on the table, buzzed; he picked it up and glanced—it was a message from his father.

【The steward said you just rushed back and grabbed something then left?】

Zhou Yinhe replied coldly with just an 'ng'.

Then his father sent another message: 【Return my tea set! You unfilial son, usually you're stingy and don't even provide for me and your mother— that's bad enough, but now you've taken the tea set I painstakingly acquired?】

Zhou Yinhe replied with a grinning emoticon: 【Anyway you don't need it; left at home it just gathers dust. Wen Ling knows tea art—giving it to her isn't wasteful.】

His father replied extremely quickly: first an angry emoticon, then: 【Don't you have any yourself? You really forgot your mother after getting a wife, taking your father's prized possession to curry favor with your girlfriend..】

【No, I haven't forgotten; I asked Ke Chengyu—there's an auction coming up soon, mainly porcelain; I'll get you a set then.】

After replying, Zhou Yinhe set his phone to silent and tossed it aside; he quietly accompanied Wen Ling watching TV, though his hands kept wandering, touching here and there.

Wen Ling had been tolerating it, but as his fingers grew more overbearing, she snapped irritably: "Can't you keep your hands off? It's so annoying."

Yet he remained seemingly innocent: "Your sleep dress is too short; let me tidy it up."

"Who tidies a sleep dress by sticking fingers inside?!" Wen Ling glared at him.

Zhou Yinhe curled his lips: "Me."

Ignoring Wen Ling's struggle and displeasure, he scooped her up and headed upstairs; Wen Ling glared at her legs, struggling: "No, let me go! If you keep this up I'll kick you out!"

"Give it a try, see if you'll still have the strength to kick me out later." Zhou Yinhe tightened his arms, locking Wen Ling tightly in his embrace.

"Zhou Yinhe!" Wen Ling fumed: "Online they say you're cold and aloof, but I see you're just a rascal!"

Zhou Yinhe pushed open the bedroom door, hooked his toe to pull it shut, hummed, and chuckled low: "Yeah, that's me—I admit it."

Wen Ling took whatever he said, but just as they were about to get intimate, the bedside landline rang; Wen Ling seized the moment when Zhou Yinhe frowned and paused, quickly sat up, straightened her sleep dress, and answered the phone.