Song Qingtang wiped the dampness from her eyes before lifting her gaze to look at Jin Zhuochuan.
The weariness between his brows seemed to have faded, and even the unruliness and defiance at the corners of his eyes had been smoothed away considerably as he quietly watched her.
Song Qingtang suddenly felt wronged.
She parted her lips to speak, but her voice came out choked: “When did I ever say you were so wonderful, that I liked you so much?”
Jin Zhuochuan looked at her.
Her eyes were red-rimmed, her whole demeanor radiating extreme grievance. Even her lips trembled faintly.
Most of the time, she was calm and gentle, as if home was her greatest vulnerability.
Her fragility would be fully exposed here.
Just like now—her eyes were glistening, her delicate skin flushed with red. It was a little pitiful, yet possessed a different kind of beauty.
Jin Zhuochuan was stunned for a second, then very lightly tugged at the corner of his lips, a faint smile forming.
“You’re crying over this?”
His voice carried a hint of laughter, slightly restrained, landing on the ears with a raspy texture.
He took a tissue from the car, bent down slightly, and leaned closer to her.
The movement came without any warning, and Song Qingtang had no time to react.
All she could feel was the distance between them suddenly closing, the air around them turning thick and heavy in an instant.
He raised his hand, fingertips pressing against fingertips, carefully and slowly wiping away the moisture at the corner of her eye.
She could see his lean wrist, his fingers curled—clearly carrying a wildness, yet his movements were gentle and slow.
There seemed to be an indescribable, contradictory sensuality about it.
Song Qingtang’s mind went blank for a moment.
Until she heard Jin Zhuochuan say with a smile, “Song Qingtang, why are you acting like a little kid?”
His tone revealed little emotion.
But Song Qingtang could guess that it must be mocking, teasing.
Even the expression between his brows was casual, and even the motion of wiping her tears carried a hint of carelessness.
Song Qingtang paused, her stalled brain finally resuming function.
Her face flushed red, and she quickly turned her head away, shifting a little farther toward the other side of her seat.
“What does it have to do with you how I am?”
She clutched at her seatbelt, frowning in frustration.
How could she have shed tears in front of him?
How embarrassing.
“And I wasn’t crying at all—don’t talk nonsense, okay?”
After saying this, she kept her gaze fixed out the window, not looking at him again.
Only her hand remained tightly gripping the seatbelt, her fingers rubbing back and forth over it.
“Are you mad?” Jin Zhuochuan’s voice was light.
His tone was languid, carrying a hint of laziness.
Like someone stoking the fire, enjoying the spectacle without a care.
Song Qingtang’s grip on the seatbelt tightened.
How infuriating could this person be?
She didn’t want to acknowledge him at all.
She pressed her lips together, her gaze unwavering.
As if she hadn’t heard him at all.
The atmosphere inside the car went quiet for a moment.
It felt like a long time had passed, or perhaps only a few seconds.
Then Song Qingtang heard Jin Zhuochuan let out a laugh he seemed unable to suppress, and he began to speak.
“It’s all my fault, alright?”
His voice was deep and slow, unhurried and unflustered.
“I misread the situation—you weren’t crying. And I was talking nonsense too—you never said I was so wonderful, that you liked me so much.”
Jin Zhuochuan finished in one breath, paused as if thinking, then added:
“It was me. I’m the one who said you’re wonderful, that you’re the best in the whole world, that you’re super incredibly amazing, that I like you the very most, that I like you to death.”
As he spoke, he lounged comfortably against the backrest, one hand resting on the steering wheel, his sharp, angular fingers tapping idly.
His gaze lazily rested on her, his tone drawn out and teasing.
Like he was coaxing a little cat or dog.
“Jin Zhuochuan!”
Song Qingtang couldn’t take it anymore and turned to look at him.
She was a bit angry, yet her expression was even more lively and beautiful than before.
“Hm?” Jin Zhuochuan raised an eyebrow, looking at her. “What’s wrong?”
Song Qingtang, faced with his attitude, was so choked up she couldn’t utter a single word.
She could only glare at him in indignation.
Until Jin Zhuochuan looked at her, tugged at his lips, and smiled. “Why are you still angry?”
“Stop being mad.” His tone was resigned, tinged with amusement. “I’ll take you to buy some toys.”
Song Qingtang: “…”
He was still treating her like a child.
How could this person be like this?!
What a pest!!
Song Qingtang pressed her lips together, turned her head, and ignored him.
Jin Zhuochuan didn’t say anything more either.
The atmosphere in the car was exceptionally quiet until the vehicle started.
The sound of the engine turning over and the tires rolling over the road kept the air inside from feeling too stagnant.
Jin Zhuochuan didn’t drive fast—he was steady, and there weren’t many cars on the road.
Song Qingtang noticed that this road seemed different from the one they’d taken to get here.
She rested her arm on the car window, listlessly gazing outside.
The car gradually came to a smooth stop.
It stopped at a place she had never been to before.
She frowned, wanting to ask why he’d parked here.
The words reached her lips, then she swallowed them back down.
She didn’t want to talk to this pest.
And she definitely didn’t want to be the one to speak to him first.
Cradling her chin in her palm, she didn’t even spare him a glance from the corner of her eye.
She only heard a rustling sound from beside her, then the car door opened, the wind outside rushing in, followed by a very soft sound of the door closing.
The car door shut, sealing off the wind outside.
Song Qingtang blinked, only then realizing that Jin Zhuochuan had gotten out.
She wasn’t someone with a strong sense of time. When bored, she always liked to let her mind go blank and sit there in a daze.
That was her way of venting bad emotions.
So when she heard the car door open again, she wasn’t sure how much time had actually passed.
This time, she heard not just the sound of the door opening, but also the rustling of a plastic bag.
That plastic bag was placed beside her, in the black storage compartment.
Her arm could even brush against the slightly cool plastic.
She frowned and glanced down.
It was an entire bag of toys.
A bag of toys so childish, so obviously the kind that little kids would love.
He had actually really gone and bought her a whole bag of toys like this.
Song Qingtang’s gaze froze for a second. She couldn’t even say which emotion was taking the upper hand at this moment.
She only looked up at Jin Zhuochuan with a mix of astonishment and disbelief.
Jin Zhuochuan raised an eyebrow at her, a smile curving at the corner of his lips, looking somewhat carefree and unrestrained.
“Stop cursing me in your head.”
Jin Zhuochuan’s tone was light and casual. “My little niece likes this kind of toy. See if you like any?”
As he spoke, he casually pulled a small toy out of the bag.
It was a pink bubble blower.
He weighed it lightly in his hand a couple of times, then held it out in front of Song Qingtang.
His voice carried a laugh: “This thing can even blow bubbles. Want to give it a try?”
Song Qingtang looked down.
In Jin Zhuochuan’s slightly rugged hand rested an utterly childish bubble blower.
It was jarringly contradictory and incongruous.
At this moment, Song Qingtang didn’t even know what to say.
A rather absurd feeling rose in her heart.
She looked at Jin Zhuochuan and asked cautiously, “Is there something wrong with you?”
How could anyone actually go buy such childish toys?
Her question came abruptly.
Jin Zhuochuan didn’t react for a moment, only vaguely hummed in response. After thinking for two seconds,
He still didn’t put down the bubble blower in his hand, holding it in a natural and relaxed posture.
His tone was also indifferent: “If you say there’s something wrong, then there’s something wrong. Say whatever you want.”
“I just want to know one thing right now—” He paused, then continued: “Considering my attitude toward admitting my mistake is pretty decent, can you stop being mad at me?”
“Mrs. Jin.”