Shen Muran finished his part-time job and got off work at nine in the evening.
The phone in his pocket buzzed incessantly.
A series of follower rules and a meal standard were sent from the pinned contact.
As he pondered over and over what to reply, his fingers hovered above the keyboard for a long time.
When the other person sent a goodnight sticker, his fingertips finally landed, typing the same two words as usual.
[Received.]
The night wind was chilly, with no stars in the sky. The empty mountain road was lined with streetlights, and occasionally a few luxury cars passed by.
Shen Muran lived in an unfinished villa area.
Carrying the groceries he had bought, he walked for half an hour before reaching home.
Once home, he plugged in the refrigerator he had won in a raffle for the first time, organizing the fresh meat and placing it inside.
Looking back at the house.
The bare living room, aside from a mattress and wardrobe in the bedroom, a brand-new refrigerator in the kitchen, and mismatched pots and pans.
Empty.
But tonight felt different.
Ding-ding-ding—
The alarm clock violently woke the person still deep in sleep.
A hand emerged from under the blanket and mercilessly silenced it.
The time showed 6:45.
Jiang Li instinctively reached to her side, squeezing the firm chest muscles for comfort after being woken up.
“Husband, time to get up for work.”
The other side of the bed was cold.
Huh?
Jiang Li struggled to open her eyes and sighed.
Yesterday, she had been reborn, a fate she lamented.
Now, she had no husband.
For the first time, she felt the anger of being thrown into a swimming pool while sound asleep upon regaining her single status.
Jiang Li glanced at the time on her phone and noticed an unread message from five minutes ago.
Shen Muran: [The security guard won’t let me in.]
She sat up abruptly, typing rapidly: [I’ll have someone let you in right now.]
She stretched her arms forcefully, chasing away the drowsiness before nimbly getting out of bed to freshen up.
At nineteen, Jiang Li was youthful and vibrant, with not an ounce of excess fat on her body.
The girl in the mirror had skin so fair it seemed to glow, full snowy peaks, a slender waist, and delicate collarbones with a graceful curve.
Her bright, lychee-like eyes, curled lashes, and captivating gaze were incredibly alluring.
With these qualities, winning over Shen Muran would be a breeze!
Jiang Li regained her confidence.
First floor.
The man, dressed in a black T-shirt and jeans, stood awkwardly in the center of the living room.
Jiang Lintian was often away on business trips, and Mother Wang had gone out to buy groceries, leaving only Jiang Li and her little nephew at home.
Jiang Fan had opened the door to let him in before rushing off to class.
“Why aren’t you sitting? Come join me.”
Shen Muran looked up at the sound, his gaze shifting toward the staircase.
Jiang Li strode toward the dining table, with Shen Muran following a step behind, placing four lunch boxes on the table.
“I have training in the morning, so I’ll head out first.”
“Hey, hey.” Jiang Li quickly grabbed the hem of his shirt. “I have a cello class this morning too. Let’s ride together in my car later.”
Shen Muran’s voice was low: “No need.”
Jiang Li refused softly, “It’s only seven now, and it’s just a ten-minute drive from here to school.”
She pulled out the chair beside her, patted it, and smiled brightly: “Sit.”
Shen Muran, still held by her, hesitated for a few seconds with a faint look in his eyes before choosing to sit opposite her.
Jiang Li didn’t mind, gulping down warm water.
The girl’s beautiful eyes held a hint of mist, perhaps from just waking up. Her features were bright and striking, with a bold and alluring charm rare for a girl her age.
Her cardigan slipped, hanging precariously on her shoulders and revealing her fair, glowing skin.
Jiang Li took advantage of him looking away to steal a glance, her lips curving into a smile.
Today’s OOTD was a “cunning” cardigan paired with a camisole, topped with a deceptive no-makeup makeup look—pure yet alluring.
This limited at-home style was Shen Muran’s favorite.
With a slight curl of her lips, Jiang Li pointed at a strawberry and said somewhat gloomily, “Is this strawberry unwashed? I think I see tiny white bugs on it.”
Shen Muran thought she was picking a fight. He glanced down and replied, “I washed them three times. There won’t be any bugs.”
“But there are! Look at this one—if you inspect it closely, you’ll see.”
Perhaps because the girl’s tone was so firm, Shen Muran grew a bit skeptical. He picked up the strawberry she had pointed at, intending to check for bugs.
The next moment, Jiang Li leaned across the table and snatched the strawberry from his hand with her mouth.
The dining table was narrow, and as the girl slightly rose from her seat, her soft lips brushed against his fingers.
A warm breath grazed his palm, leaving Shen Muran frozen in place.
Here we go again.
Another one of these ambiguous advances!
Yet those eyes of hers were so clear, showing no hint of mischief at all.
As if to preempt his questioning, Jiang Li explained her behavior first. “Oh, I wasn’t wearing my glasses. Must’ve misseen.”
Then, as if nothing had happened, she lowered her head and continued eating breakfast.
Shen Muran studied her seriously, his hands rubbing together beneath the table, silently conveying his discomfort toward her.
Jiang Li caught a glimpse of his cold demeanor from the corner of her eye and mentally noted it down in her little book of grudges.
If he’s acting like this just feeding her a strawberry now, she’d definitely make a scene if he ever begged her to switch positions in the future!
Burp—full.
Jiang Li pushed several lunch boxes across the table toward him.
“I can’t finish this. Could you help me out? Otherwise, it’d be a waste.”
She rested her chin in her hands, her soft, dark eyes glistening brightly.
Little did he know how heartbroken she had been yesterday, seeing her husband so thin.
She knew Shen Muran had lost his parents in middle school and was later taken in by his grandfather.
An elderly man struggling to make ends meet for himself could hardly provide him with enough to eat.
He probably went hungry two out of every three days.
Shen Muran said, “This is your breakfast.”
“I know, but I’m done eating.”
Jiang Li had only eaten half a sandwich, two strawberries, and a sip of black coffee.
The remaining three exquisite lunch boxes were filled with imported ingredients, each item worth as much as one of his meals, yet she was leaving them all for him?
Shen Muran’s eyes unconsciously darkened.
Since yesterday, he had felt that something was off about Jiang Li—her smile, her behavior, everything.
He looked up and met her gaze, the earlier restraint in his eyes gone, replaced by sharp tension in his eye sockets and a deep sense of wariness in his pupils.
Finally, he voiced the doubt that had been brewing for two days.
“So, making me your follower is about making me eat your leftovers?”
“Treating me like a dog to toy with?”
Jiang Li’s heart sank.
Did he misunderstand her as offering charity?
She lowered her gaze, avoiding Shen Muran’s eyes, and spoke even more gently.
“You’ve misunderstood. I don’t see you as a dog. I didn’t touch this side while eating.”
Jiang Li silently packed the food back into the bag and handed it over.
“I have a cello lesson this morning. Eating too much would make me feel sluggish, and it’d affect my playing.”
Music requires the right mood.
Eating too much would make sitting uncomfortable.
Shen Muran stared at her profile, trying to make sense of her words.
But he failed.
“Then tomorrow, just prepare one lunch box.”
“No way!” Jiang Li sprang to her feet. “What I have for breakfast depends entirely on my mood, so the options have to be plentiful.”
When people are flustered, the excuses they come up with are as obvious as a hairstyle ruined by a gust of wind—utterly transparent at a glance.
Jiang Li glanced at her watch, intending to end the conversation. “If you don’t eat these, just throw them away. I’ll still stick to the 300-yuan meal budget tomorrow.”
With that, she changed her shoes and hurriedly slipped away.
The McLaren was parked in the garage. By the time Jiang Li drove it out, Shen Muran had long since disappeared.
She didn’t bother wondering whether she should go looking for him.
After all, breaking stereotypes isn’t something that happens overnight.
The pink sports car roared out of the driveway, its gleaming emblem a proud declaration of its exclusivity, standing out conspicuously on the road.
Only after the exhaust fumes had completely dissipated did Shen Muran emerge from behind a tree.
In his hands, he still held three lunch boxes and a half-empty bottle of black coffee.
The faint, pleasant scent of the girl still lingered on them.
His thumb traced the bottle cap over and over again.