After an entire afternoon of everyone venting their emotions, there wasn’t much time left for rehearsal.
Everything that had been designed before was thrown into disarray, and all of it would need to be redone from scratch.
When Song Qingtang walked out of the rehearsal room, she only felt tired.
Back in her office, she was pondering how to choreograph the dance.
That was when Lin Qiaoshi’s call came in.
Song Qingtang answered.
“What the hell! Song Qingtang! You actually didn’t come to pick me up today!”
Lin Qiaoshi’s voice landed in her ear through the phone, and it even felt a bit grating.
Song Qingtang froze.
Because of what had happened this morning, she had completely forgotten about it.
Knowing she was in the wrong, Song Qingtang let a faint smile spread across her face, her tone especially soft: “Shishi, I’m so sorry. Something came up on my end. Can I come pick you up now?”
“Whatever you say, I’ll agree to it, okay?” Song Qingtang said as she stood up from her chair and headed out.
“Hmph.” Lin Qiaoshi’s voice carried a hint of playful pride. “I’m almost at the entrance of your studio. Come greet me quickly.”
“I’m on my way.” Song Qingtang replied with a smile.
She hung up the phone and walked downstairs.
The studio floor was made of white ceramic tiles, with light and shadows reflected across them.
Two potted plants sat by the entrance, cleaned daily, spotless.
Song Qingtang waited outside for a while until a taxi pulled up at the studio entrance.
Lin Qiaoshi stepped out of the car.
Lin Qiaoshi’s looks weren’t of the gentle, graceful type, nor the seductive kind—her appearance carried a certain spirited boldness.
Her presence was overwhelmingly strong; in the workplace, she exuded an air of intimidation.
Colleagues, whether male or female, would give her a wide berth.
Upon seeing Song Qingtang, Lin Qiaoshi immediately ran over and pulled her into a hug.
“Missed you so much.” Lin Qiaoshi said.
Song Qingtang smiled and pinched Lin Qiaoshi’s cheek. “You’ve lost weight.”
“I haven’t. You’re the one who’s lost weight.” Lin Qiaoshi said.
“By the way, where are you living now? Are you living with that bargain husband of yours?”
Song Qingtang nodded.
“Come on, take me to see it.”
Song Qingtang thought for a moment, figuring that at this hour, Jin Zhuochuan probably wasn’t home.
So she nodded and hailed a taxi.
She and Lin Qiaoshi headed toward Shallow Bay together.
“Gotta say, this place is pretty nice!”
Lin Qiaoshi looked around, unable to hold back her amazement.
Everyone who lived here was either wealthy or powerful.
Song Qingtang nodded in agreement.
“Do you remember?” Lin Qiaoshi remarked with a sigh. “You used to tell me how you wished you could live in Shallow Bay someday, and now your wish has come true so fast.”
Song Qingtang smiled and took Lin Qiaoshi’s wrist, leading her inside.
“This was beyond my expectations too.”
Song Qingtang replied.
Song Qingtang’s fingerprint had long been registered in the system, and she opened the door.
She had assumed no one would be inside.
But the moment she pushed the door open, she saw someone lounging on the high-end custom sofa.
Jin Zhuochuan looked exhausted, a cigarette pinched between his index and middle fingers, his brow relaxed with a loose, weary air.
Rarely, he wore a white shirt, with the top two buttons undone, looking somewhat casual.
His sharp collarbones were visible.
He leaned against the sofa, one hand holding his phone, doing who knows what.
As if hearing the sound, Jin Zhuochuan turned his head slightly.
His gaze was indifferent as he saw that Song Qingtang had returned.
He seemed to pause for a moment, then averted his eyes, stubbed out the cigarette, and placed it in the ashtray.
Perhaps noticing there was someone behind Song Qingtang, Jin Zhuochuan didn’t linger in the living room. He rose from the sofa and headed upstairs.
Only after Jin Zhuochuan had left did Song Qingtang step into the living room.
Lin Qiaoshi surveyed the surroundings, nodded, and said with satisfaction: “Not bad.”
Then Lin Qiaoshi took a sniff and asked with some confusion: “Qingqing, why do I feel like your living room smells so fragrant?”
Song Qingtang was about to grab some fruit when she paused at Lin Qiaoshi’s words.
“Is it?” she asked, puzzled.
“It is!” Lin Qiaoshi nodded firmly. “It’s jasmine—very similar to the scent in your office, which is why you didn’t notice it.”
Song Qingtang took a serious sniff, and indeed, there seemed to be a very faint trace of jasmine.
It was very close to the fragrance in her office—both were subtle, like a mellow red wine aged for a long time.
The scent was faint, yet it lingered.
She wasn’t quite sure why this light fragrance was there, and she didn’t pay it much mind.
There was fruit in the kitchen fridge, likely prepared by the household staff.
It had already been washed and cut into small pieces.
Song Qingtang brought the fruit out and set it on the clear glass table.
Lin Qiaoshi ate a few cherries before asking: “How does Jin Zhuochuan treat you?”
“Pretty decent, I guess.” Song Qingtang said.
After all, whatever she asked for, he agreed to.
“Oh.” Lin Qiaoshi nodded.
If Song Qingtang said it was decent, then it really was decent.
Lin Qiaoshi’s lingering worry finally settled.
She looked at Song Qingtang with a beaming smile and asked: “So, which base are you two at? First, second, third, or a home run?”
Song Qingtang was just biting into a piece of watermelon when she heard this. She froze, watermelon juice bursting in her mouth.
She looked at Lin Qiaoshi in slight surprise, a rare flush of pink spreading across her jade-white face.
“What are you talking about?”
Lin Qiaoshi suddenly laughed at Song Qingtang’s expression.
“Judging by the look of you, you haven’t even made it to first base.”
Song Qingtang pressed her lips together and moved the fruit on the glass table to the other side. “Say that again and you’re not eating any more.”
“Ah, I’m just joking.” Lin Qiaoshi shook Song Qingtang’s arm.
“But this is fine too.”
Lin Qiaoshi stuffed a piece of watermelon into her mouth, then seemed to think of something and slapped her thigh.
“Oh, right, Qingqing, did you know there’s a motorcycle race at Nanyuan recently?”
“Hm?” Song Qingtang chewed her fruit and only let out a vague sound.
She didn’t know much about motorcycles, nor did she know about any races.
“What’s up?” she asked.
“It’s nothing really.” Lin Qiaoshi clicked her tongue lightly. “I want to get a ticket. Do you have any connections?”
“Connections?” Song Qingtang paused.
She had never really been familiar with that sort of thing.
But deep down, Lin Qiaoshi yearned for madness and freedom, and she loved extreme sports too.
“I don’t think I do.”
“What about Jin Zhuochuan?” Lin Qiaoshi asked, looking at her seriously.
“Then I’ll ask him later,” Song Qingtang said. “But I’m not sure I can definitely get one.”
Lin Qiaoshi smiled, her voice lilting with delight. “Qingqing, you’re the best.”
“Of course I am.” Song Qingtang propped her chin on her hand, her tone carrying a hint of playful pride.
They chatted for a while longer, and the two were just discussing where to go for dinner when Lin Qiaoshi’s phone rang.
Lin Qiaoshi glanced at the caller ID, and her whole face fell.
She answered the call, her eyes turning impatient, her tone cold: “What are you, rushing me to my grave? What’s the hurry? Such a pain.”
With that, she didn’t even wait for the other person to say anything else.
Lin Qiaoshi hung up directly.
“Who was that?” Song Qingtang asked, looking at her.
“That idiot project lead of mine, always trying to use me as free labor.”
Lin Qiaoshi said, her voice icy. “I don’t have a car loan or a mortgage. Why the hell would I work overtime for him?”
After saying that, Lin Qiaoshi finally looked at Song Qingtang.
The indifference on her face faded, replaced by a beaming smile.
“I’ll get going now.”
Song Qingtang nodded, stood up from the sofa, and walked her to the door.
When the car arrived, Lin Qiaoshi hugged Song Qingtang once more, a little reluctant to part.
She pressed her cheek against Song Qingtang’s.
Song Qingtang’s skin was very smooth, and pressing against it felt wonderful.
She always carried a faint fragrance, perhaps from her aromatherapy.
It smelled sweet and cloying.
Lin Qiaoshi especially loved being close to her.
Song Qingtang felt a little embarrassed by the hug.
Even though this kind of physical contact happened often, Song Qingtang still felt shy about it.
After a moment, Lin Qiaoshi finally let go of Song Qingtang.
She got into the car.
Song Qingtang watched the car disappear from view before turning back.
As she walked in, she saw Jin Zhuochuan coming down the spiral staircase.
His steps looked leisurely, his whole demeanor relaxed.
He didn’t seem particularly busy at all.
He was about to head out.
Their gazes only brushed lightly against each other in the air.
Her eyes were clear and pure; his were cold and indifferent.
As he passed by Song Qingtang, she felt a very light breeze.
“Hey—” Song Qingtang spoke up instinctively.
Jin Zhuochuan’s steps halted beside her.
He was very tall, and standing next to her now, his shadow fell from above, enveloping her.
There was also an indescribable sense of pressure.
Song Qingtang’s heart skipped a beat.
He looked down at her, his lashes lowered, stray hair covering his brows, making it hard to see the expression in his eyes.
All she could feel was his overwhelming aggressiveness—impossible to avoid, impossible to ignore.
“Um…”
Song Qingtang spoke, her voice trembling slightly from nervousness.
Yet it sounded soft and warm to the ear.
“Do you have time later?”