Chapter 61: then translation of title

Aunt Zhou asked on the phone: "What does Wen Ling want to eat tonight? And Fifth Young Master, so I can have the chef prepare."

Wen Ling glanced at Zhou Yinhe, still holding the kneeling posture from just now, and softly snorted: "Just make what I like to eat, don't mind him."

Before the phone was hung up, Zhou Yinhe suddenly lunged over, covering Wen Ling's mouth with his palm, intending to continue what had just been on the verge of happening but not yet occurred.

Wen Ling widened her eyes at him, full of disbelief, unable to comprehend how he could be so shameless.

Fortunately, Aunt Zhou hung up on her end, leaving only the beeping sound; Zhou Yinhe released his hand, lowered his head to bite Wen Ling's lip, his fingers sliding down her slender, fair arm, and put the phone back.

Wen Ling frowned, fiercely bit back, and beads of blood immediately welled up.

"You have such a cruel heart." Zhou Yinhe licked the wound, feigning grievance.

"I can only want you; we agreed on this, and now you're going back on your word—I can use this as justification to refuse to maintain that kind of relationship with you." Wen Ling panted, her eye sockets reddened; seeing him even more aggrieved than herself made her feel worse.

Her voice tinged with a sob: "You initially disagreed about reconciling with me, then you went along and slept with me, and then you changed your mind, wanting to reconcile again—could it be just for this?"

Zhou Yinhe slowly released her, stepped back a bit and rose to his feet; due to his posture, he seemed more like he was kneeling before her.

"Lingling, I want to be with you because I love you, I can't forget you, and I want to do these things with you too." He looked serious, somewhat dejected: "If you don't like it, I'll just endure it from now on and not do that."

"As long as you occasionally let me have a taste of sweetness." He added another condition.

Wen Ling suppressed the urge to roll her eyes and kick him, pulled the strap that had slipped onto her arm back into place, and pursed her lips, humming.

She pushed him away, entered the bathroom alone, and upon seeing the obvious kiss mark on her chin, she wished she could go out and strangle that green-tea guy who only pretended to be innocent and pitiful.

How he usually acts so alike, but at times like this he's like a dog seeing a bone.

She sighed helplessly, washed off the sticky sweat from the earlier commotion, went to the wardrobe to change into a conservative set of pajamas, then sat at the dressing table and used concealer to cover the mark a bit.

"Do I have to cover it even at home?"

Zhou Yinhe sat to the side, legs spread, hands propped on the chair between his thighs; Wen Ling glanced at him through the mirror and thought he really resembled a little dog.

She withdrew her gaze, tone somewhat sarcastic: "Not everyone has a cheek as thick as yours."

Zhou Yinhe pressed his lips, feeling a vague, awkward discomfort inside; he wanted to lash out but feared Wen Ling would use it as an excuse to dump him, so he rose and left the room, standing by the floor-to-ceiling window of the living room on this floor, unable to resist kicking the rocking chair Wen Ling had placed there.

Wen Ling said he had changed—hasn't she? One moment she's gentle with him, the next she gives him a cold face, and she also says he changes his mood quickly.

He pressed his lips, feeling quite regretful.

Born into the Zhou family at the pinnacle of the aristocratic class, smooth sailing since childhood, he also had talent, yet he kept stumbling over Wen Ling, unable to let go; after a bout of regret, he would then feel it sweet as nectar.

Aunt Zhou came over, intending to take Hehe downstairs to play, but seeing him sitting on the rocking chair with a vexed expression, she wondered: "Why is Fifth Young Master here?"

Zhou Yinhe sat up straight to look at her; this was the person who had cared for Wen Ling since childhood, and even if his mood was terrible he couldn't show a sour face, so he forced a slight tug at the corners of his mouth: "It's fine."

Aunt Zhou also didn't insist on speaking with him, walked through the living room to Hehe's room, picked him up, and was about to head downstairs.

Hehe wagged his tail, quite obedient, but upon seeing Zhou Yinhe he suddenly struggled, so Aunt Zhou set him down.

Hehe ran to Zhou Yinhe's side, leapt straight into his arms demanding a hug; Aunt Zhou found it amusing and said: "Hehe doesn't usually get close to anyone except Ah Ling; I only got him to occasionally respond to me after getting familiar with him—I never expected him to like you so much."

"Really?" Zhou Yinhe squeezed Hehe's paw and shook it.

"Yeah." Aunt Zhou nodded, glanced at the time, then told Zhou Yinhe: "Fifth Young Master, I still need to go check on the chef preparing the dishes; Hehe doesn't like going downstairs, so later could you please hold him and take him down?"

Zhou Yinhe grunted in acknowledgment, holding Hehe while rocking the chair.

When Wen Ling came out of her room, she saw this scene.

The afterglow of the sunset shone on him; he sat there with a faint smile, Hehe nestled in his arms, eyes half-closed, enjoying the gentle massage.

She was a bit dazed; since her rebirth and awakening, she often dreamed of such a scene.

Forget it, Wen Ling consoled herself, not to quarrel with a little dog.

She called Hehe's name, and Hehe almost instantly leapt from Zhou Yinhe's arms, ran to Wen Ling's side, stretched out his body seeking a hug.

Wen Ling picked him up and stepped down the stairs; Zhou Yinhe silently gritted his teeth: heartless.

Aunt Zhou and the chef finished preparing dinner and returned next door, leaving only the two of them and a cat sitting in the dining room to eat.

Zhou Yinhe recalled Wen Ling's words from their afternoon tea, ate while asking: "Did you release Lu Zhaoye from the blacklist?"

Wen Ling blinked: "Otherwise what?"

"You can't avoid contacting him?" Zhou Yinhe gripped his chopsticks, lowered his gaze to the fragrant, colorful dinner on the table, avoiding direct eye contact with Wen Ling.

"Are you jealous?" Wen Ling smiled, curling her lips: "Being jealous is useless; I've grown up with Lu Zhaoye since childhood, and even if I like you more, I won't cut off contact with him just because of you."

Zhou Yinhe gritted his teeth: "Even if he likes you?"

"When did he start liking me?" Wen Ling frowned, thinking he was being overly sensitive, and earnestly explained: "He doesn't like me; our relationship is no different from yours with Jiang Jibai and the others."

"But we're both men; I've never had any woman besides my family around me, not even in these three years."

Wen Ling heard that, put down her chopsticks, and calmly asked: "Over these three years, you and Ruan MiaoMiao have been rumored many times; although it never blew up online, in Sijiucheng among your elite circles there have been many such instances."

"Those are all fake." Seeing Wen Ling's serious expression, Zhou Yinhe rose, walked to her side, and, just like before, squatted beside her, lifting his gaze to look at her; his eyes held an emotion Wen Ling couldn't fathom.

"Those are just their random gossip; I've warned them about it ever since."

"But the photos aren't fake; you often appear together at the same gatherings, surrounded by your childhood friends and close buddies." Wen Ling pulled out a photo she had stored on her phone for a long long time and had Zhou Yinhe look at it.

The photo indeed shows him and Ruan MiaoMiao, and they are quite close; Zhou Yinhe simply doesn't recall when this was, and he has no memory of such a scene.

Over these three years, he doesn't know how many gatherings he's attended with Jiang Jibai and the others, often drinking to the point of blackout; Ruan MiaoMiao occasionally shows up at large gatherings with Qin Yuchen, but they have no interaction.