Qiu Zheng glanced at it—it looked like some kind of academic paper, packed with dense, unfamiliar terminology. Just one look made her eyes ache. After driving for so long, he still had the energy for this?
She stopped paying attention to Wen Yan and focused instead on chatting with Grandpa Wen.
Wen Yan skimmed through the paper in a very short time.
Then his assistant replied to him. When he had just sat down earlier, he had asked them to compile a list of the latest jewelry releases from major brands.
Qiu Zheng had already refused his suggestion.
But Wen Yan went ahead with it anyway.
He opened the list. The necklace Qiu Zheng was wearing had been something he picked up casually at an exhibition he attended before returning.
At the time, he hadn’t carefully selected anything piece by piece.
Now, as he flipped through the images one by one, something felt almost absurd—every time a new piece appeared, the first thought in his mind was:
“This would suit her.”
“She would look good wearing this.”
The truth was, she was very beautiful, so any jewelry would suit her.
Realizing he had once again thought of the word “beautiful,” Wen Yan frowned slightly and lifted his gaze.
Because Qiu Zheng was sitting upright and slightly angled away, he could see her back and her loose hair. There were no accessories—just a simple black hair tie gathering the outer layer into a small knot.
His finger tapped lightly on the screen.
Or… maybe he should look at hair clips too?
“You two shouldn’t leave today,” Grandpa Wen’s voice came at just that moment. “Since tomorrow is Sunday and Wen Yan isn’t working, stay one more day and keep me company.”
Qiu Zheng’s heart skipped a beat.
She had never stayed overnight at the old residence before. Wen Yan was always busy; every time he brought her here, they would leave right after the meal.
Although she didn’t mind staying to keep Grandpa Wen company, spending the night in an unfamiliar place still made her instinctively uneasy. “It’s mainly because Wen Yan is busy with work,” she said truthfully. For someone like him, weekends didn’t really exist—let alone having days off.
As she spoke, she turned to look at Wen Yan.
The man finally lifted his head from the screen. Their eyes met. He didn’t speak immediately, as if thinking about something. Qiu Zheng gave him a look that said, Hurry up and say you’re busy.
For a split second, it felt like she saw a hint of a smile in his eyes. The next moment, he spoke:
“It’s fine. I’m not busy.”
“Well, there you go,” Grandpa Wen said happily. “What’s one extra day going to delay?”
Qiu Zheng stopped looking at him.
What was done was done. She adjusted quickly. It was just one more day. She had enough drafts saved anyway, Grandpa Wen would be happy, and it was Wen Yan’s time being used—not hers.
If there was one thing Qiu Zheng dreaded most at the old residence, it was mealtime.
There’s a kind of hunger that exists only in your grandparents’ eyes.
As long as she sat at the table, the most common things she heard were:
“Zhengzheng, try this.”
“That one’s good, very nutritious—eat more.”
“You’re a young girl, don’t think about dieting. Look how thin you are.”
Grandpa Wen had a good sense of boundaries—he didn’t personally put food into her bowl, but he would have the servants bring dishes closer so she could serve herself. And if she took too little, he would be dissatisfied.
“How can that be enough? Take more.”
All of Qiu Zheng’s protests—like “Grandpa, I’m not dieting, I’ve really had enough”—were completely ignored.
In the end, she looked at the small mountain in her bowl and fell silent.
When another dish was placed in front of her, she symbolically picked up a bite, then suddenly shifted her strategy before Grandpa Wen could speak again—
She started piling food into Wen Yan’s bowl.
“You work so hard. Eat more.”
She noticed his movement pause. His gaze lingered on the food she had placed there. His expression was unreadable, but somehow… looked deeply troubled.
Oh—he’s probably a germaphobe, right? She quickly figured it out. He must be bothered that she used her own chopsticks.
But…
Her own bowl couldn’t take any more. She didn’t have the habit of leaving food uneaten when visiting someone else’s home. Seeing that Grandpa Wen had indeed stopped urging her, she decided it was better for Wen Yan to suffer than herself.
A researcher like him dealt with all sorts of bacteria daily—what germaphobia?
Wen Yan held his chopsticks without moving for a long time. Qiu Zheng grew a bit nervous—would he get angry?
Finally, he moved. He picked up a piece of meat and put it into his mouth.
As he chewed, he glanced at her.
Still that same expressionless face—impossible to read. Qiu Zheng wondered if he was silently saying, You’re dead.
Whatever.
After that, she kept doing the same thing, continuously adding food to his bowl.
“And this—good for the brain.”
“And this—good for the kidneys.”
As long as she targeted Wen Yan, Grandpa Wen stopped targeting her.
The meal was fairly pleasant overall, except that Qiu Zheng still ended up a bit too full. She glanced at Wen Yan’s bowl—
He had actually finished everything. All of it!
Alpha appetites really were something.
“Alright, I’ll give you a young couple some space,” Grandpa Wen said cheerfully. “Wen Yan, take Zhengzheng for a walk around the estate to help digest.”
Wen Yan gave a simple “Mm.”
He wiped his mouth with a napkin. Such a simple action, yet somehow carried an air of aristocratic elegance.
Qiu Zheng stared at him intently.
Honestly… this contract marriage wasn’t all bad. At least it broadened her horizons and gave her material, so she wouldn’t always end up writing “rich CEOs imagined by poor people.”
Wen Yan had already stood up and walked out first.
Qiu Zheng smiled at Grandpa Wen. “Grandpa, we’ll go take a walk first.”
“Go on, go on!” Grandpa Wen waved happily.
Such a polite girl—much more likable than that brat.
Qiu Zheng hurried after him.
She didn’t actually catch up right away. When she got within a few steps of him, she slowed down and followed behind, rubbing her stomach. A walk would do her good.
She looked at the man ahead.
His back was tall and straight, his stride brisk, almost as if he moved with the wind. Walking like that right after eating—wasn’t he worried about his stomach?
Almost as soon as that thought crossed her mind, Wen Yan slowed down. Qiu Zheng slowed even more, but then he suddenly stopped, turned around, and extended a hand toward her.
Qiu Zheng stared at his hand, stunned.
What did this mean? Holding hands?
His face remained calm, as if this were nothing worth noting. Qiu Zheng glanced back, and upon catching sight of Grandpa Wen’s figure on the second-floor balcony, she finally understood and reached out to take his hand.
Wen Yan’s hand was large. Unlike his person, it was warm and dry.
Just holding it for a moment made it feel even warmer.
Qiu Zheng suddenly recalled the first time they held hands.
They had been waiting by the roadside for Wen Yan’s driver when a motorcycle sped toward them. Seeing it about to pass dangerously close, she didn’t think—just instinctively grabbed Wen Yan’s hand and pulled him toward her.
The motorcycle roared past, its noise ringing in her ears as it barely brushed by Wen Yan’s side.
Even after the sound faded, Qiu Zheng took a while to recover. The lingering fear turned into anger.
“Do you even know how to ride?”
“What kind of reckless punk is that? Go meet your maker already!”
Of course, she only dared to curse because the rider was already far away. It was the same when she drove—windows closed, she would rant; windows open, she’d act like “better to avoid trouble.”
Once she calmed down, she noticed Wen Yan standing there silently, staring fixedly at something, as if stunned.
Following his gaze, she saw—
She was still tightly holding his hand.
Before Qiu Zheng could react, Wen Yan jerked his hand away as if electrocuted. He even stepped back twice. Right before her eyes, a man who rarely showed any expression went through a rapid sequence—pale, then red, then green—remarkably vivid.
“Don’t you know you can’t hold my hand?”
He lowered his voice, gritting his teeth, looking like a fiercely chaste man who had just been violated.
How would I know?!
Qiu Zheng was completely baffled. It wasn’t in the contract, was it? And wait—did he not see what just happened? That was his focus?
She found him utterly ridiculous. There was definitely something wrong with his brain.
What could she do? The hand had already been held.
It wasn’t like she could chop it off.
She felt a bit annoyed, but her anger was like that of an exhausted old man—briefly firm, then quickly fading. After staring at him for a moment, she decided to apologize to keep the peace.
“Sorry. It won’t happen again.”
After she said that, Wen Yan fell silent instead. The hand she had held moved slightly, as if he didn’t know what to do with it.
“That’s not what I meant,” he finally said, his tone softer but still stiff. “I should thank you just now. It’s just that…”
He seemed unsure how to explain—or simply not used to explaining. In the end, he pressed his lips together and said, “I’ll have my assistant transfer you some money.”
“No need,” Qiu Zheng refused.
She didn’t take it to heart, just treated it as a reminder. Later, she even made a point to ask him what other boundaries he had, suggesting he write them all down to avoid her accidentally crossing them again.
And Wen Yan really did write them.
She watched him pull out pen and paper, writing rapidly and smoothly—like he was copying from memory. He wrote for quite a while without stopping.
Was there no end to it?
Qiu Zheng immediately regretted asking. Why had she taken on this trouble? Still, curiosity got the better of her. She leaned over sneakily to peek, catching a glimpse of repeated “must not…” before she could read further—
Wen Yan suddenly stopped, grabbed the entire sheet, crumpled it into a ball, and clenched it in his hand.