Shen Zhiyin smiled. “Picked him up along the way.”
Song Junyan had three assistants, precisely because his schedule was so packed that several people had to coordinate their efforts just to keep his appointments from colliding.
Picked up along the way…
More likely, he had already made up his mind long ago to accompany his fiancée to choose a dress.
Song Man lifted her eyelids slightly, and happened to meet the man’s gaze.
Deep, cold, and hard.
It was the kind of look one reserved for strangers.
Beside her, Shen Zhiyin tilted her head, stepping right into the space between their intersecting gazes.
Song Man was startled and quickly lowered her face.
“Man’er, you don’t mind, do you?”
How would Song Man dare to mind? Besides, he was the male lead in this scenario.
She smiled and shook her head, then tactfully took the passenger seat.
From that position, she could easily see the two of them sitting side by side through the rearview mirror.
They weren’t doing anything intimate at all.
In fact, Song Junyan seemed rather busy after getting in the car, tapping away at his phone screen without pause.
Seeing this, Shen Zhiyin didn’t disturb him, only occasionally handing her phone over for him to glance at, saying, “What about this one?”
Or, “Or maybe the one from before?”
Although Song Junyan’s replies were brief—”Mm,” “Not bad”—he responded to every single question.
Their interactions were ordinary and unremarkable, yet somehow exuded a warmth that was hard to miss.
Who would have guessed that half a month ago, the two of them were complete strangers?
They were bound by mutual interest, united by wealth and power.
But people weren’t made of wood or stone. Over time, who could guarantee that feelings wouldn’t develop?
And so, bit by bit, things would return to the proper course.
Just as she had hoped.
A melancholy, bittersweet emotion crept up like a thin mist. Song Man let out a deep breath and turned her head toward the window.
…
A dozen or so minutes later, the car stopped in a secluded alley.
Song Man got out. As she turned to close the door, she saw Song Junyan walk around the car to open the door for Shen Zhiyin.
The moment Shen Zhiyin placed her hand in his palm, he closed his fingers around it swiftly, gripping tightly, as if holding a precious treasure.
Song Man’s throat inexplicably tightened.
But Shen Zhiyin chose that moment to look at her. “How embarrassing—making Man’er watch us make a spectacle of ourselves.”
Song Junyan smiled. “We’re engaged. What’s there to be embarrassed about?”
That was right. They were engaged.
And in the future, they would become husband and wife.
She was the one who had been overly sentimental all this time. Her inability to let go—that was the real joke.
Song Man mustered a faint smile. “Uncle is right.”
She closed the car door, turned around, and met Song Junyan’s eyes.
Then, they both looked away.
The man’s gaze darkened. He placed his hand on Shen Zhiyin’s waist and walked inside.
Song Man followed silently behind, trailing the two of them up a hidden staircase to the second floor.
She had assumed that since the place was remote and run-down, despite the tailor shop’s reputation, the interior wouldn’t be much to look at.
But to her surprise, pushing open the door felt like stepping into a painting from the last century.
The entire room was decorated in an extremely vintage style.
Green-painted walls, a thick maroon velvet carpet on the floor that swallowed every footstep without a sound.
The shop owner, Aunt Zhang, sat by the window, the sewing machine clattering beneath her foot.
Seeing the three of them, Aunt Zhang gestured with her chin. “Pick your own.”
Master artisans with real skill always had a proud temperament.
Shen Zhiyin had come prepared. She walked straight over and picked up a gown.
“Looking at the photos in the car, I thought they all seemed fine, but seeing them in person, this one is better. Junyan, what do you think?”
Song Man’s gaze drifted over.
A cinched waist, a deep V-neckline, and a satin fabric that demanded a certain figure.
Before Song Junyan could speak, Aunt Zhang lifted her eyelids and said bluntly, “Not you. Your frame is too big—you won’t fit into that. But this young lady here could. She has a narrow waist with a nice curve, and lovely shoulders.”
Aunt Zhang’s gaze landed on Song Man.
Song Man froze.
Shen Zhiyin’s eyes dimmed a few shades, a half-smile playing on her lips. “What a pity. Man’er can fit into it, but it’s not suitable for her to wear.”
Even if she could wear it, she would never have the chance in this lifetime.
Meaning her status wasn’t suited for it.
Song Man’s chest felt tight.
Song Junyan said, “My fiancée likes it. Aunt Zhang, would you mind adjusting it?”
If anyone else had said that, Aunt Zhang wouldn’t have bothered.
But the one asking was Song Junyan.
Aunt Zhang set aside her work, rose, and began measuring Shen Zhiyin with a soft tape.
Shen Zhiyin’s expression brightened considerably. “It’s really no trouble, you know. I could just pick another one.”
Song Junyan smiled. “When you like something at first sight, there’s no need to settle for second.”
Shen Zhiyin smiled, coy and shy.
Song Man stood off to the side, barely able to listen any longer.
She turned away and casually picked out a gown.
A strapless short dress—not a particularly striking design, but it had clean stitching and exquisite embroidery.
Ruan Wenhua had intended for Song Man to pick one as well.
Shen Zhiyin knew this. Seeing her movement, she spoke up immediately: “Man’er is your niece. She’ll have plenty to do on the engagement day. This short one is convenient—it’ll fit her perfectly.”
Short, convenient, and plenty to do.
A subtle implication that even as the Song family’s adopted daughter, she was only fit to serve others.
Song Man said nothing. She took the dress and headed for the fitting room.
A window decorated with pasted flowers was cracked open a sliver, letting in a faint musty smell. A military-green ceiling fan creaked as it turned overhead.
Song Man changed into the dress. The zipper at her back seemed to catch on something—it wouldn’t go up, and it wouldn’t come down either.
After several attempts, Song Man felt her composure beginning to crack.
She couldn’t help but think, Even you’re picking on me now!
Footsteps sounded from behind. Song Man assumed it was Shen Zhiyin entering, so she wiped the corner of her eye and quickly said, “I’m almost done changing.”
The door slammed shut with a bang. The next moment, a hand reached in from behind—scorching hot, instantly making Song Man shiver and her skin prickle with goosebumps.
She hurriedly pulled away.
The hand pressed down hard, firmly gripping her waist as the man’s tall frame pressed up against her.
“Still trying to run?”