Chapter 463: Type 1 if you want it, type 2 if you don't. (8800 words)

"I'm sorry, I'm truly sorry. I'll give you a 20% discount on your bill tonight."

"Yes, yes, there's an important matter, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

"Apologies, please take your time leaving."

Zhao Lei stood on the stage, watching in utter shock as Yingzi hurriedly began shooing people away. Before long, only that group of new guests remained in the small bar.

Yingzi's actions were so swift that he didn't even have time to stop her; he could only set his guitar aside and watch helplessly from the stage.

He hadn't even sung his final song yet—was this appropriate?

Having spent so many years working in bars, Zhao Lei knew very well that even though these departing guests didn't seem to say anything, they would basically never return.

For a newly opened bar, driving away customers was absolutely self-destructive.

The key was that these uninvited guests gave him an uncomfortable feeling. Not only was the woman leading them impolite, but the other men and women kept looking at him with a strange gaze.

That look wasn't like they were looking at a panda; it was more like they were looking at a panda with two butts.

They definitely weren't fans, and they certainly weren't talent scouts.

He, Zhao Lei, wasn't some diamond buried in the sand. He had already been on *Super Boy*; which major domestic entertainment company would run over during the New Year holidays to find him as if they'd discovered a new continent?

Besides, talent scouts weren't top scholars; they couldn't be so dedicated and passionate about their work that they wouldn't even rest during the New Year.

So, what exactly did this woman say to Yingzi to make her act so decisively without a hint of hesitation?

Once everyone had left, he was truly puzzled and asked, "Yingzi, what's going on? Who are they?"

Yingzi suddenly exclaimed, "Brother, they're from China Central Television."

"China... Central Television?" Zhao Lei broke the five characters apart and repeated them.

"Yes!" Yingzi said excitedly.

This was an answer that completely exceeded Zhao Lei's imagination. For a moment, he didn't know how to react and just subconsciously looked at the woman leading them.

She was about 40 years old, with short hair and a rectangular face, wearing a small suit, looking quite capable. When she spoke to Yingzi, she tilted her head slightly, squinting, and looked him up and down. From her gaze, one could tell—she didn't care about his feelings at all.

This point was actually a bit like China Central Television.

Seeing him look over, the woman said, "Let me introduce myself. My name is Ha Wen, and I am the director in charge of song and dance programs for the Spring Festival Gala. You are Zhao Lei, right?"

Zhao Lei nodded blankly, "Yes."

The woman raised her hand to check her watch, then looked up and said, "It's getting late. Sing a song for me to hear now."

After saying that, she plopped down onto a booth seat in the lobby, and the others followed suit.

Zhao Lei had absolutely no idea how to react.

Rationally speaking,

"China Central Television Spring Festival Gala program director"—this was truly a ridiculous answer. It was 1:00 AM, six days—no, five days—until New Year's Eve, and a Spring Festival Gala director comes to your door to find you?

For a folk singer, believing this was less likely than receiving a phone call from someone claiming to be named Chen Nuo, offering to recommend him as a guest performer at the Oscars, provided he transferred 20,000 yuan to a China Construction Bank card under the name Li Sufen to grease the wheels.

Anyone with an IQ over 50 wouldn't believe such nonsense.

So, when Zhao Lei sat back down in front of the microphone and picked up his guitar again, he truly felt like a moron, having gone crazy wanting to be famous!

He held the guitar and froze for a moment, finding his mind completely blank, then asked, "Um, may I ask what you would like to hear me sing?"

Zhao Lei had only asked casually; in his mind, the other party should have replied with something like "Sing one you're good at" or "Whatever."

Unexpectedly, after he asked this question, the men and women opposite him began to discuss in low voices.

It wasn't the pretending-to-be-serious kind, but a genuine, earnest discussion. Voices overlapped, and fragments of sentences drifted over. Among them, an old man in his 50s and a young man in his 30s were arguing quite intensely.

"... Didn't they say before, don't..."

"How can we not... we are facing hundreds of millions of viewers, tens of millions of teenagers... everyone will be influenced..."

"... That's right, we must consider the influence of..."

"... But what if they don't agree in the end..."

"We should at least ask..."

"I agree... his program, the leaders will definitely watch it too..."

"... What if there isn't one?"

"If there isn't one, then of course, forget it."

A few minutes later, the woman who called herself Ha Wen looked up and said, "Do you have any songs that are more positive?"

Hearing this question, Zhao Lei's heart began to beat violently. If the credibility before was 1%, after this question, based on his anti-fraud awareness, the credibility rose to at least 40%.

"Yes," he answered immediately.

The woman nodded, "Then go ahead."

Zhao Lei didn't put on airs; he picked up the guitar and began to play and sing: "Drawing a moon for the lonely night sky, singing beneath that moon... drawing a large window for the cold house, then drawing a bed... drawing a girl to accompany me, then drawing a lace-trimmed quilt..."

Soon, he finished singing "Painting."

After some whispering on the other side, Ha Wen said again, "Do you have anything more positive?"

Zhao Lei thought for a moment and sang "Southern Girl."

Next, he sang "Rice Shop," "Farewell," "Snowman," and "We Are Already on Two Different Paths"... all the songs he had sung when participating in *Super Boy* last year. These songs had already been screened by Hunan Television. They were also the most positive among the songs he had created.

Before this, he had already been singing all night, and playing and singing non-stop like this, his throat was almost at its limit, but the group opposite was clearly still unsatisfied.

"Little Zhao," the old man in his 50s said, "I'm a few years older than you, so I'll call you Little Zhao, alright? Listening to these songs of yours, except for the first one which barely qualifies, the others all contain some negative, failed elements. This isn't very good. We hope for works that are purer, more positive, and more educational."

Zhao Lei understood what the old man meant.

Calming down to think about it.

If, and it really is just an if, these people were indeed from this year's CCTV director team, here to select songs for the Spring Festival Gala, then these songs of his were indeed not very suitable.

Zhao Lei had been a failed, down-and-out wretch until now, suffering every day in the cracks between ideals and reality. In the vast majority of the songs he created, the influence of this aspect was unavoidable.

To summarize, there was a temperament in them that many people saw as moaning without an ailment, pretentious and affected. It was fine to sing them in a small bar where everyone was like him, or to participate in talent shows and other professional programs, as they were only local stations.

However, to truly step onto the CCTV Spring Festival Gala stage on New Year's Eve and sing to the whole country during the New Year, even he felt guilty, feeling it was too damn unlucky.

His racing heartbeat gradually calmed down, and Zhao Lei couldn't be bothered to distinguish whether the other side was real or fake, saying politely, "Most of my songs here are like this. Director, if they aren't suitable, how about..."

He originally wanted to say "how about forget it,"

But halfway through, the words "forget it" seemed to have taken root on his tongue and just wouldn't come out.

At this moment, many images flashed through Zhao Lei's mind.

In a dim bar, a seventeen-year-old boy timidly asked a guest, "Brother, would you like to request a song?" The other party was that round-faced man who became famous nationwide for "Fragrance." He kept his head down, scrolling through his phone, and replied without lifting his head, in a tone devoid of emotion: "Get lost."

On the bluestone path beneath the towering palace, two people walked and sang while holding beer. A sharp-mouthed, monkey-cheeked young man suddenly turned back and said with a serious face, "It would be a violation of heaven's law if you, Zhao Lei, don't become famous."

A gray-haired woman lay on a hospital bed, tightly gripping his hand, her eyes full of concern and reluctance, her lips trembling as if wanting to say something, but in the end, nothing came out; only that hand slowly falling away, lingering in unspoken words.

And that courtyard piled with clutter, that cramped eight-square-meter rental room where he couldn't even turn around.

The late-night bus, the swirling snowflakes.

And the chill of rain hitting his face...

In the end, he didn't say the words "forget it."

However, although he didn't say the words, the meaning was actually quite clear.

He suddenly felt a bit worried that if the other side got up and left, but unexpectedly, the people opposite were much more tolerant and gentle than he had imagined. Hearing his words, the old man actually squeezed out a smile and said:

"Little Zhao, don't be anxious... I'm not criticizing you. I'm just... think about it, on New Year's, if we really make everyone feel bad, that wouldn't be right, don't you agree?"

A man next to him took over, "Yes, keep it simple, don't be too depressing. The subject matter is not limited; family, friendship, love are all fine. Like 'You at the Same Desk' or 'Brothers in the Upper Bunk' are all fine."

Finally, the female director named Ha Wen said, "As long as it doesn't make people feel particularly pessimistic or add to their troubles... Little Zhao, think again, are there any similar songs among the ones you sang tonight?"

Zhao Lei shook his head and answered honestly, "The songs tonight... there really aren't any."

After saying this, he searched his mind desperately for possible options, then said hesitantly, "However, I do have a song I'm currently writing... I feel it's not bad."

"Still writing?" The old man shook his head immediately upon hearing this, "That won't do. We are short on time and can't wait for you to finish. Director Ha, what do you think we should do?"

Ha Wen frowned, lost in thought.

Zhao Lei was also feeling anxious. He already believed them 60%—if they were really scammers, would they go to such lengths, running over in the middle of the night to play this act for him? What else were they planning to scam him out of?

Other than a guitar, a mountain of debt, and a pile of unsold CDs at home, he had nothing.

Scam him?

He probably wouldn't even earn back the taxi fare.

He thought and thought; the only reasonable explanation was that his brief appearance on *Super Boy* had somehow caught the attention of the Spring Festival Gala director team.

By the way, didn't Zhao Uncle Benshan announce his withdrawal from the Spring Festival Gala a few days ago?

Coincidentally, didn't he also have the surname Zhao?

So, could it be that the Spring Festival Gala director team made a decision to let him take Zhao Uncle Benshan's place...

"Smack!"

A crisp sound.

Everyone looked over in astonishment.

Zhao Lei's face burned; he had truly used force for that slap. The sharp pain disrupted his wild thoughts, and his mind became completely clear.

In this life, he had never fought for anything.

But this time, regardless of whether these people were real or fake, even if there was only a one-percent chance, for the sake of those who loved and cared for him, for his mother, he had to fight for it.

"I write songs very quickly. Although it's only a semi-finished product now, the lyrics are finished, and as for the melody, the chorus part is also complete. If you want it, three days—no, two days—and I'll have it written," Zhao Lei said earnestly.

The people opposite were silent for a moment, and then the director named Ha Wen said, "Alright then, sing it for us to hear."

Zhao Lei took a deep breath and glanced at Yingzi standing not far away. The girl hadn't said much, just stood silently to the side. At this moment, she met his gaze and nodded at him without hesitation.

Zhao Lei lowered his head, closed his eyes, and began to quickly organize the melody and lyrics in his mind. He had indeed only written a rough draft of this song, not even a complete score.

It was a song he wrote three years ago after returning from Lhasa, while briefly staying in a city in the southwest, inspired by an encounter with a girl.

At the time, he felt the song was too niche and too regional, with no market nationwide, so he just shelved it and had no motivation to finish it.

But thinking about it now, among all his works, there was indeed none purer than this one.

He began to lower his head and strum the chords, playing the intro for a while, and began to sing: "What makes me shed tears is not just last night's wine..."

While singing, he observed the expressions of the people opposite.

As soon as this line of lyrics came out, the old man, Ha Wen, and the others all frowned to varying degrees.

Zhao Lei's heart went cold, but he had to bite the bullet and continue, "... What makes me reluctant to leave is not just your tenderness..."

The soothing song was told slowly, echoing in the small bar.

The song wasn't finished, so it was inevitably bumpy and intermittent in the middle; sometimes Zhao Lei even had to think of the melody on the spot. As a result, the expressions of the people opposite naturally became uglier and uglier. Zhao Lei saw Ha Wen's brows furrowing tighter and tighter, and the old man even seemed ready to interrupt him several times, but he forcibly held back.

His heart also sank lower and lower with the progression of the song.

Finally, it reached the chorus part, which was relatively mature and complete. Zhao Lei adjusted his state and smoothly cut into the rhythm, "... Walking on the streets of Chengdu with me, oh oh~"

Before he finished the "oh," he heard.

"Stop!"

"Stop, stop, stop!"

"Wait a moment!"

At least three or four people from the row opposite shouted together.

Among them, the old man who had been picking on him stood up the moment he stopped and questioned, "Chengdu? Are you singing about Chengdu??"

Looking at his appearance, Zhao Lei really didn't know which commandment he had broken. What? Was Chengdu a forbidden word at the Spring Festival Gala?

"Yes, it's Chengdu?"

"Are you sure it's Chengdu?"

"I'm sure." Under the old man's aggressive questioning, Zhao Lei's temper also flared up a bit, and he said in a not-so-good tone, "Chengdu, is there a problem? I plan to call the name of this song 'Chengdu'."

After he finished speaking, the other side suddenly went quiet.

The old man also stopped making noise.

Zhao Lei originally thought he was finished. Unexpectedly, the female director named Ha Wen said, "... Little Zhao, continue singing, finish the song."

Zhao Lei couldn't be bothered to think anymore, so he lowered his head, found a tune, strummed the strings again, and continued to sing.

Except for the chorus, the rest of the parts were still bumpy and full of hitches.

But this time, he noticed that no one was frowning anymore; instead, they had changed their expressions, each one looking excited, whispering to each other while listening.

When the song was finished, they actually applauded together.

"Good, not bad, it can completely be said to be a feeling of homesickness, a longing for this land, for the hometown."

"The love inside is also very beautiful. I think it's very suitable, Director Ha, what do you think?"

"No, no, no, it's not love; you can completely imagine the girl inside as some kind of symbol, right? Doesn't the feeling come all at once?" "Makes sense, this is completely tailor-made."

"That's right, haha, Chengdu is good, Chengdu, too good."

Zhao Lei was completely baffled, but he also knew he had misunderstood. It seemed he had misinterpreted it. Chengdu seemed to be particularly compatible with these people.

"Alright, that's about it. Little Zhao, come down, let's have a chat." Ha Wen checked her watch and beckoned to him.

Zhao Lei put the guitar on the stool, walked off the stage, and sat at the round table next to this group of uninvited guests, with Yingzi standing behind him.

"I know you might still have some doubts in your heart right now."

The woman said, "But we are indeed from the Spring Festival Gala program team. If you don't believe us, you can search my name online right now—'Ha' as in 'laughing out loud,' 'Wen' as in 'literary genre,' Ha Wen. These are my colleagues, our CCTV directors and senior producers. We came here this time for our Spring Festival Gala program this year..."

Zhao Lei listened and turned to look at Yingzi, seeing the girl nod.

He immediately understood that Yingzi had already checked; this person was a real visitor from CCTV, and this person named Ha Wen was truly a CCTV director!

"... You should have heard that this time, Teacher Uncle Benshan has withdrawn from the Spring Festival Gala stage..."

Zhao Lei suddenly felt a rush of blood to his head; he pinched his thigh desperately under the table, barely avoiding jumping up and shouting. He considered himself absolutely talented but unrecognized. However, filling Zhao Uncle Benshan's vacancy on the Spring Festival Gala stage was something he really hadn't thought would come true.

However, the woman's next words instantly pulled him back to reality.

"... So, we invited a heavyweight guest to fill Teacher Uncle Benshan's vacancy, but the problem now is the song; the song hasn't been selected yet. However, he told us before that he thinks your songs are good..."

Zhao Lei murmured, "My songs?"

"Yes, after the selection just now, we found that you have two songs that are quite suitable. One is 'Painting,' and the other is this semi-finished product you just sang."

Zhao Lei understood.

So they were interested in his songs, not him!

His mood was like returning from heaven to the human world.

Although it sounded much more reasonable, the gap between soaring to the sky and then quickly falling back to earth made him feel like a stone was stuffed in his heart, and he couldn't even speak.

"Especially the second one. I suggest you don't sleep tonight; hurry up and perfect it, and record a demo in the recording studio tomorrow morning to hand over to us. Of course, if you can't find a suitable professional recording studio, I can help you coordinate our CCTV recording studio."

Zhao Lei didn't want to say anything.

Although it's not bad for a song to be on the Spring Festival Gala, compared to his previous thoughts, it was like heaven and earth. His songs were like his children; he really had never thought about letting others sing them. As a result, this woman was still acting all high and mighty, asking nothing, saying nothing, and directly telling him to start writing the song tonight?

First, did he agree?

Second, writing a song isn't moving bricks! It's not something you can just do; it requires inspiration, emotion, moonlight, the sound of the wind, and a bit of human touch. You know nothing!

He smiled reluctantly and said, "Isn't it too tight?"

Ha Wen said coldly, "It's not tight; what we lack now is time. You must hand me a basic demo tomorrow morning at the latest. You don't need complex arrangements; just record the vocals and guitar accompaniment. But the melody and lyrics must be complete. We have an audio team here that can do post-production arrangements based on your demo."

This tone really treated him like a grandson!

With the humiliation of failing to sell himself in his heart, Zhao Lei's rebellious temper flared up again. What's so great about the Spring Festival Gala? If they really want to use his song, why be so impolite to him?

He, Zhao, had never thought about selling songs. For the sake of the Spring Festival Gala, he could make an exception and agree, but who are you being impolite to? His literary youth temper flared up, his face immediately fell, and he said coldly, "Director Ha, writing songs isn't that fast; it depends on the feeling. I'm very tired today. I know you're in a hurry, but I can't help it. I'll finalize the lyrics and melody line tomorrow during the day, record a rough mix demo in the evening, and hand it to you the day after tomorrow morning."

Ha Wen shook her head, "No, there's no time. How about this, come back to the station with me now, use our recording room, finish recording the vocal and guitar tracks tonight, and I'll have the audio group work overnight on basic noise reduction and track separation, so we can have a demo by tomorrow morning."

"Director Ha, I... let's put it this way, if you really are the Spring Festival Gala, I have a question I'd like to ask: how is the copyright fee paid for using songs here?"

The woman looked astonished, "Copyright fee?"

"Yes, copyright fee." Zhao Lei felt a bit of secret pleasure seeing the other party's surprised look and said lightly, "It's impossible to let you use it for free, right? Although I know your Spring Festival Gala is a big stage, I still need a statement if I give my song to your singer to sing."

"Statement?"

"Yes."

The woman laughed, still with that same arrogant attitude, and said, "What statement do you want? Money? Do you know who is coming to the Spring Festival Gala to sing your song? You're asking me for money?"

Zhao Lei became even angrier and said lightly, "No matter who it is, even if Faye Wong or Eason Chan come to sing, I still want to collect a copyright fee. However, I do indeed want to know who the guest you selected is. Director Ha, these two songs are works I particularly like, and I don't want them to be lip-synced on stage."

Zhao Lei originally thought Ha Wen would be angry, but unexpectedly, the woman chuckled, feeling he was quite funny, and said in an extremely annoying tone, casually, "You can rest assured about this; there won't be lip-syncing..."

He was about to retort, 'Your Spring Festival Gala is a big lip-sync stage, who are you lying to,' but heard the woman continue, "Chen Nuo doesn't have this habit."

Zhao Lei blinked, looked left and right, and saw that the few people opposite all had serious faces.

He frowned, feeling as if he had misheard.

Zhao Lei hesitated, but in the end, his so-called line of self-esteem collapsed like paper in front of those two words.

He blinked and asked, "Director Ha, excuse me, who did you just say? Chen... what? Nuo?"

Ten minutes later.

Ha Wen and her group left, just as they had come—hurriedly, without stopping, without pleasantries, without formalities. The woman led the way, and the others followed closely behind.

Zhao Lei originally felt this was too impolite. But now, he understood instead—these people had to rush back to the CCTV building to work overtime overnight; they hadn't been home for several days, so how could they have the heart to waste time on social niceties and rituals?

Just like himself, tonight was destined to be a sleepless night.

He had to go home, take his CD records, the manuscript of "Chengdu," and bring his beloved acoustic guitar, then rush to the CCTV recording room overnight. Finally, with the assistance of an audio engineer, he had to polish the rough melody of "Chengdu" into at least a listenable demo by 10:00 AM tomorrow.

"Brother."

"Hmm?"

"Did I hear that right? Is it Chen Nuo who wants to sing your song?"

"I suppose so."

Zhao Lei didn't know what his voice sounded like, but he hoped it wouldn't be like Yingzi's, appearing too unable to hold her composure.

"Tell me, where could he have seen you sing? Did he watch *Super Boy*? That's not very likely, right?"

"I don't know."

"Tell me, why would he watch *Super Boy*?"

"I don't know."

"Alright. Brother, he likes your song... Brother, don't you think it's magical?"

Zhao Lei said realistically, "It's a little magical."

"Do you think it could be Auntie's spirit in heaven protecting you?"

Zhao Lei looked up at the ceiling and said, "Maybe it is."

The two were silent for a while, after which Yingzi changed her tone and said, "Brother, do you think you'll be able to see him in person when the time comes?"

"I don't know."

"You're the author; won't they have to call you for rehearsals?"

"Hmm, they should."

"When the time comes, if you go to ask him for an autograph, will it be very embarrassing?"

Zhao Lei thought for a moment and said, "It shouldn't be anything. Do you want me to help you get one?"

"Okay, can you?"

"I can."

"... Brother, if you're short on money recently, tell me."

Zhao Lei stood up and said, "Alright, I'm going home, and then I'll head over."

Yingzi also stood up, suddenly hugged him, her eyes slightly red: "Brother, you're finally going to be famous. I knew it, you'd be famous sooner or later."

Zhao Lei didn't humble himself; that would be too hypocritical. He patted her back and said solemnly, "Thanks to you tonight, Yingzi. Thank you."

Chen Nuo didn't expect the call from CCTV to come so early.

It was only past ten in the morning.

Do they not want people to sleep?

Gao Yuanyuan, who was beside him, was also woken up, opening her eyes in a daze: "Who is it?"

"CCTV, they said the songs are ready; they've selected two, and want me to go to their recording studio to listen."

"Ah? So early." Gao Yuanyuan sat up, supporting herself, "Can't they just send you a file to listen to?"

"They said one is just recorded, still a demo, so I have to go listen, and if there are any problems, we can change them on the spot." Chen Nuo leaned against the headboard and yawned.

"I don't want you to go." Gao Yuanyuan hugged his waist.

It was rare for Gao Yuanyuan to act like a little girl, and Chen Nuo felt his heart soften a bit.

Last night, this woman, who had always been labeled as a "literary goddess," seemed to have completely let herself go.

There was neither the indulgence of "drink today for today's sorrow" from their initial friends-with-benefits relationship, nor the distant, restrained, and reserved appearance she had later. As if she had unloaded some burden in her heart, she became enthusiastic, generous, cheerful, and direct, and even quite hospitable.

This night, she almost used all her skills, without any of the national goddess's airs, feeling like she had completely fallen into... cough.

In short—with her acting like this, Chen Nuo really felt a bit uncomfortable.

"Do you have any time before the New Year?"

"I don't know," Gao Yuanyuan replied muffledly.

That couldn't be helped.

He wanted to get up, but Gao Yuanyuan actually wouldn't let go of him.

Chen Nuo couldn't help but laugh: "What are you doing? I really have to go."

The woman raised her head, blinked those bright big eyes, and said softly, "I want to have a child with you."

"............ What did you say?"

At the most unguarded moment, hearing the woman say the most ruthless thing in the gentlest voice, Chen Nuo trembled, his drowsy head instantly clearing up.

Gao Yuanyuan sat up, her long black hair a bit messy, but the expression on her face was not messy at all, very serious.

"My mother is in poor health and is always worried about me; she has always hoped I would get married early." Her speaking speed wasn't fast, but every sentence was clear, "Over the past year, I've thought a lot. I know you can't be with me, so I've never known what to do."

"Sometimes I really think, why don't I learn from Fan Bingbing and have a child without you knowing? That way, I can also make my mother feel at ease." She smiled bitterly, "But that would be too unfair to myself... I even often think, should I leave you completely and find someone willing to live a stable life with me."

"When I saw you last night, I actually hadn't made up my mind, not even knowing what I wanted."

She paused here, then looked up, a surprisingly bright light shining in her eyes—that kind of brightness mixed with a bit of madness and a determination to go all out.

"Until later, I finally figured it out."

"You are the person I have been waiting for."

She called out softly: "Chen Nuo."

There was no hesitation or probing in her tone, but an unprecedented clarity and decisiveness, "I love you."

Do you know what a literary woman will be like once she lets go of her reserve?

That is exactly how.

More direct, more intense, and more uncompromising than ordinary girls.

If it weren't for the fact that President Chen was truly a veteran of many battles, if it were an ordinary man, having not even brushed his teeth early in the morning, being brought up with the topic of having a child by the beautiful woman he just slept with last night, he would probably be so confused he wouldn't even know his own name.

But although he had turned over a new leaf in this life, in his previous life, the number of times he had been confessed to was like the stars in the sky. He had encountered more than once people cutting their own necks or wrists, saying they would die if he didn't agree, let alone this kind of ordinary confession.

So, Brother Nuo wasn't scared; instead, he looked at Gao Yuanyuan calmly, his eyes not dodging, and said earnestly, "Thank you for your love, Yuanyuan. I must say, this is my honor. I am very honored to receive your love. Thank you."

Pausing slightly to give Gao Yuanyuan some time to react, he continued, "As for what you said, I still want to thank you for not choosing to hide it from me, but telling me frankly... however, you have to let me consider it, okay?"

His attitude actually made Gao Yuanyuan a bit uncomfortable; her face slowly turned red, from her neck to her face, covered in a thin layer of blush. It was clear she was holding back her shyness, and she nodded, "Okay, tell me when you've considered it."

"I will, don't worry. Then I'm getting up; you were too tired last night, sleep a bit more." Chen Nuo hugged Gao Yuanyuan naturally and kissed her on the lips. The woman's face turned even redder, and then, under her gaze, he got out of bed and walked out of the bedroom calmly.

However, the moment he closed the door, Chen Nuo's expression changed instantly.

Didn't I say this woman had something going on?

Now it's come to light; sure enough, there is something, and it's a big thing.

What the hell should I do?

Asking for help online: type 1 if you want it, type 2 if you don't.

(End of chapter)