11 – Is Wen Man acting coy towards him?
Wen Yanchuan looked at the woman before him. She was crouched on the ground, the long skirt that reached the top of her thighs unable to conceal those pale, slender legs.
She was loosely hugging her knees, her hair spilling onto the ground, the bright red dress dazzling, like a strikingly beautiful red rose in the snow.
With just a glance, Wen Yanchuan recognized it wasn’t the same one from the Weibo post last time.
And the rose herself lifted her head, her eyes misty and dazed as she stared at him, her red lips slightly pursed, looking utterly pitiful.
“Mr. Wen, is that you?”
Wen Yanchuan heard the woman ask him this.
His Adam’s apple bobbed slightly. A gentle breeze brushed past, and Wen Yanchuan lowered his gaze, his eyelids veiling the emotions in his eyes.
“Mm.”
A familiar voice came from above. Wen Man blinked, truly drunk, as she thought she heard Wen Yanchuan’s voice.
Gazing at the blurred, overlapping figure before her, she murmured, “Am I dreaming of you?”
Wen Yanchuan paused, hearing Wen Man’s soft murmur, not realizing it was just a question.
He asked in return, “What did you dream about me?”
Wen Man lowered her head, her voice growing even softer and quieter. “I dreamed that Mr. Wen was standing right in front of me.”
Wen Yanchuan hesitated, only then realizing that Wen Man was drunk and hadn’t grasped that he was truly standing before her.
“Why do you always end up in such a sorry state?”
Wen Yanchuan’s voice was low, his tone calm. It was a question, tinged with a hint of reproach, but Wen Man couldn’t detect it.
Wen Man hugged her arms and knees, her lips pouting slightly as if somewhat displeased.
“Not sorry,” Wen Man said.
“There are no rotten eggs this time, and no cream.”
Wen Man earnestly explained to Wen Yanchuan that this time, she wasn’t in a sorry state.
Wen Yanchuan looked down at Wen Man, carefully studying her delicate face, and remained silent for a long while.
After a moment, Wen Yanchuan finally spoke.
“But there’s drool at the corner of your mouth.”
Wen Man froze, quickly raising her hand to wipe her lips haphazardly, removing the drool from her earlier dry heaves.
Wen Yanchuan sighed, taking a handkerchief from inside his suit jacket. With his other hand, he took Wen Man’s wrist and gently wiped her hand.
Wen Man looked down at the handkerchief—pure black, different from the one she had ruined earlier.
Her gaze shifted upward, and she saw Wen Yanchuan’s distinct, knuckled hand holding her wrist, a burning sensation following.
It seemed… she really didn’t dislike Wen Yanchuan’s touch.
Wen Man blinked, childishly pointing to the spot Jiang Jin had touched earlier, directing Wen Yanchuan, “Wipe here too!”
Wen Yanchuan glanced up at her, not asking why, and simply wiped that spot as she requested.
Wen Man narrowed her eyes. A crumpled part of her heart seemed to smooth out and settle, and her mood lightened considerably.
Watching Wen Yanchuan’s movements, she asked, “Mr. Wen, in your eyes, I must be a very sloppy person.”
Wen Yanchuan didn’t look up, just held her pale wrist, watching her small hand rest loosely in his palm, his voice magnetic.
“Moderately sloppy.”
Wen Yanchuan said, “It’s also the first time I’ve seen it, quite novel.”
Hearing Wen Yanchuan’s words, Wen Man’s lips turned downward, the brief uplift in her mood instantly extinguished.
Her eyes grew sore, and she mumbled, “Mr. Wen doesn’t want to have dinner with me.”
So Wen Yanchuan not having a meal with her meant he was disgusted by her sloppiness.
Wen Yanchuan’s brows furrowed slightly as he looked up at Wen Man. “Why do you ask that?”
Wen Man withdrew her hand and curled herself into a ball again. Hugging herself tightly, she breathed in the scent of cedar from the coat draped over her and began listing Wen Yanchuan’s various offenses.
“We agreed to have a meal together, but then you didn’t contact me. You casually mentioned a business trip and were gone for so long. It’s not like you don’t have my WeChat—over a month passed without a single word, not even a post on your Moments. Who knows if you ran off with my six million… Even if I was just paying you back, setting off firecrackers should at least make some noise, right? Six million worth of firecrackers would definitely be deafening.”
The more Wen Man spoke, the more aggrieved she felt. Her voice gradually grew louder, tinged with a hint of pettiness, making her seem quite stingy.
Wen Yanchuan paused, listening to her accusations before responding in a low voice.
“I don’t have the habit of posting on Moments,” Wen Yanchuan said, pausing briefly. “And setting off firecrackers isn’t allowed in Shanghai.”
Wen Man opened her mouth, but hearing Wen Yanchuan’s words, she couldn’t find a way to refute him.
Something felt off to her, but in her drunken state, she couldn’t quite grasp what it was.
Her mind was stuck in a single track, and she knew she couldn’t out-argue Wen Yanchuan, so she simply fell silent.
Seeing Wen Man’s aggrieved expression, a faint smile flickered in Wen Yanchuan’s eyes.
“Are you blaming me, Miss Wen?”
Wen Man clicked her tongue, her tone tinged with awkwardness. “How would I dare?”
Wen Yanchuan disagreed with that statement. “You’re bold enough.”
Aside from his parents, no one had ever dared to list his offenses and criticize him to his face like this.
But Wen Man did.
Perhaps it was only because she was drunk, thinking she was dreaming, that she dared.
Once she sobered up, Wen Yanchuan guessed she would run far away.
Wen Man shook her head. “Mr. Wen, I wouldn’t dare.”
Her tone was deadly serious. “I still have to keep working and earning money in this industry. If I offend you, what if you blacklist me? I’ve already lost six million—I can’t afford to lose my job too.”
Wen Yanchuan tilted his head slightly, looking at Wen Man. He thought she looked utterly pitiful at that moment.
Just like the first time he had seen her.
Wen Yanchuan had never been a particularly sympathetic person. Very few things ever struck him as pitiable, yet from the very first glance, he had felt Wen Man was pitiful.
So pitiful… that it made him want to cherish her.
He sat on the marble edge of the fountain, his knee gently pressing against Wen Man’s chin, forcing her to lift her head and look at him with those moist eyes.
Their gazes met, and as Wen Yanchuan looked into those eyes, he felt his throat tighten.
Wen Man rested her chin on Wen Yanchuan’s knee as if acting coquettishly, intimate in her gesture.
She must be dreaming.
Looking at Wen Man’s obedient demeanor, Wen Yanchuan unconsciously softened his voice.
“You keep mentioning six million. Are you that short on money?”
Wen Yanchuan didn’t understand the market value and income of domestic entertainment industry celebrities, but surely six million wouldn’t actually bankrupt Wen Man.
He thought her earlier claim of being “on the verge of bankruptcy” was probably just a joke.
Wen Man lowered her eyes slightly, her voice soft. “Someone as distinguished as you, Mr. Wen, wouldn’t understand what six million means to ordinary workers like us.”
Wen Man’s hair cascaded over Wen Yanchuan’s knee. His fingers remained still for a moment before curling inward, restraining himself from reaching out to touch it.
Wen Yanchuan truly didn’t understand. “What does it mean?”
Wen Man blinked, tears welling up so quickly, glistening in her eyes, almost ready to roll down.
“My life is gone.”