Hearing her words, Jin Zhuochuan’s gaze paused.
It landed on her.
She looked nervous, a faint flush spreading across her face.
As if she could feel his gaze, even her eyelashes trembled slightly, like butterfly wings fluttering.
“What is it?”
Jin Zhuochuan asked, his voice flat, revealing little emotion.
His tone was also indifferent.
“I have a friend,” Song Qingtang said. “She kind of wants to watch the motorcycle race at Nanyuan, but she can’t get a ticket, so I’m asking if you have any extra tickets.”
After saying this, Song Qingtang paused before continuing:
“You probably haven’t eaten yet, right? Let me treat you to a meal.”
She and Jin Zhuochuan weren’t really that familiar with each other.
Every word she spoke felt difficult.
The air around them was even tinged with a hint of awkwardness.
Jin Zhuochuan listened to her, as if considering her words, and paused for two seconds before repeating: “You have a friend?”
“Yes.” Song Qingtang nodded.
She spoke quickly, and even nodded to make it seem more credible.
Jin Zhuochuan looked at her and suddenly laughed.
The smile was faint, lasting only a moment.
When he smiled, the corners of his lips curved into a subtle arc, softening much of the coldness and aloofness about him.
But that smile disappeared quickly.
So quickly that Song Qingtang hadn’t even figured out why he was laughing.
Then she heard him say: “Got it. I’ll save one for you.”
With that, he walked out.
Song Qingtang froze for a moment—everything had happened too fast and gone too smoothly.
She hadn’t even processed it yet.
“Hey.”
Seeing Jin Zhuochuan heading out, Song Qingtang spoke up again to stop him.
Jin Zhuochuan paused mid-step and turned his head to look at her.
His gaze was always faint, but when it fell on a person, it carried an immense sense of pressure.
“Let me treat you to a meal,” Song Qingtang said. “Thank you for saving me a ticket.”
Jin Zhuochuan glanced at her, then quickly looked away.
His hands were in his pockets, and there seemed to be a bit more interest in his eyes than before.
But his gaze wasn’t on her as he spoke with a hint of teasing: “Mrs. Jin, you’re this polite to your newlywed husband?”
Song Qingtang froze for a second.
“I’m not…” being that polite.
They weren’t familiar with each other anyway.
They were just people bound by a contract.
But before she could finish speaking.
Jin Zhuochuan spoke again: “If you want a ticket next time, just say so directly. No need to make up a friend.”
Song Qingtang: “?”
After saying this, Jin Zhuochuan walked out the door.
Song Qingtang’s mind went blank for a moment. Watching Jin Zhuochuan’s unrestrained retreating figure, she reacted a beat too late.
In an instant, her face flushed bright red.
She finally understood why he’d had that brief smile on his face earlier.
He must have thought she’d come up with a flimsy excuse.
But she really hadn’t invented a friend out of thin air.
She really did have a friend.
Song Qingtang felt her head buzzing, her face burning.
So embarrassing.
Pressing her lips together, she closed the door and raised a hand to pinch her own cheek.
It’s fine.
She’d explain it to him next time.
At least she got the ticket.
The next morning, when Song Qingtang came down the stairs, she saw Jin Zhuochuan sitting on the sofa.
He was wearing a black jacket over a white shirt, legs stretched out, looking at something she couldn’t tell.
His expression was casual and careless, even carrying a hint of weariness.
Song Qingtang noticed that he seemed to have a particular fondness for black and white.
His clothes were either black or white—no other colors.
Though, he did suit black very well.
A ticket sat on the glass table—probably the one he’d saved for her after what she’d told him yesterday.
As if hearing the sound of her footsteps, Jin Zhuochuan looked up at her.
He reached out and pushed the ticket in front of him over to Song Qingtang’s side.
Song Qingtang walked to the table. “Thank you.”
“No big deal.”
With that, Jin Zhuochuan stood up.
He was probably about to leave.
It seemed like he’d been sitting there all morning just to give her this ticket.
“Jin Zhuochuan.”
Song Qingtang spoke up. She still wanted to explain one more time.
She didn’t want him to misunderstand.
“I really do have a friend.”
Jin Zhuochuan paused for a second.
Then he lifted his eyelids and looked at her.
Her gaze was clear, her tone earnest.
Jin Zhuochuan suddenly felt like laughing.
She was a bit cute.
“Mm, I know.” Jin Zhuochuan nodded and said, “You really do have a friend.”
His tone was casual, a little careless.
There was even a hint of amusement in his voice.
As if he didn’t care at all whether the ticket was for her or for her friend.
Or as if he didn’t believe a word she said, thinking she was thin-skinned and cared too much about saving face.
From the faint amusement in his smile, Song Qingtang felt.
It was the latter.
He not only thought she’d invented a friend out of thin air.
But also that she really cared about saving face.