17 – When will you return my clothes?
Shanghai had entered winter, the light snow melted away, and Qingli Road was dampened by the slush, covered with layer upon layer of scorched yellow maple leaves.
Warm yellow streetlights illuminated the barren, withered trees along the roadside, their branches swaying, casting mottled shadows on the ground.
The black extended Bentley drove along Huangpu Road, standing out conspicuously.
Inside the car, Wen Yanchuan had a laptop resting on his knees, the screen displaying an ongoing video conference. He tapped lightly with his knuckles, listening attentively, occasionally responding with a few words in flawless London English, pleasant yet tinged with a hint of laziness.
Wen Man turned her head to look at Wen Yanchuan, recalling what Xiao Ning had said—that Wen Yanchuan had grown up in England.
Wen Man couldn’t understand the content of the meeting, only occasionally catching a few rather casual phrases, but when it came to business matters, she was completely clueless.
Wen Man leaned her head gently against the car window, her curly hair slightly drooping as she watched the scenery flashing by outside. Her mind still echoed with Wen Yanchuan’s earlier remark, “Just one Miss Wen is already more than enough to handle.”
She hadn’t responded at the time, perhaps too embarrassed to reply.
She didn’t know how to answer Wen Yanchuan, nor did she understand what he meant.
Wen Man had always considered herself someone skilled at reading expressions, sharp-minded, the type who didn’t need things spelled out explicitly to understand. But the person opposite her was Wen Yanchuan.
He was too adept at speaking in veiled terms, making it impossible for others to decipher or grasp his meaning.
Wen Man understood his subtlety but couldn’t delve deeper into it. Yet she wouldn’t ask, content with grasping the general idea—why bother digging to the root of it?
So, from Wen Yanchuan’s vague explanation, Wen Man roughly gathered that Wen Yanchuan and that Xia Yao really didn’t have much of a relationship, and certainly weren’t the rumored sugar daddy and kept woman circulating in their circles.
If there was any connection at all, it was probably just at a business banquet where someone had brought Xia Yao along, with unclear intentions. At most, they had met once and shared a meal at the same table. As for whether they had exchanged glances, Wen Man had no idea.
Because Wen Yanchuan didn’t even remember what Xia Yao looked like. He had to pull out his phone, search for Xia Yao’s name, stare at the photos that popped up for a long time, and finally call a business partner to mention the name before vaguely recalling.
And he did all this right in front of Wen Man.
At that moment, Wen Man’s face flushed so intensely she felt like she was burning up.
It felt like… a jealous girlfriend obsessing over her boyfriend’s contact list, demanding to know who a certain woman was, while the boyfriend desperately tried to prove he had nothing to do with her.
Whether Wen Man believed it or not, whether doubts lingered in her heart, she dared not pursue the matter or ask further.
She thought Wen Yanchuan was far too bold.
Leaning against the car window, Wen Man recalled that scene and still felt her cheeks flush.
In contrast, Wen Yanchuan didn’t see anything wrong with what he had done. After hanging up the phone, he turned to her with a serious expression and asked, “Not angry anymore, right?”
Wen Yanchuan asked naturally, his expression still saying, “See, I really have nothing to do with that woman.”
After that, Wen Yanchuan sincerely invited her to dinner.
Wen Man initially wanted to refuse. She felt things had already reached this point, and having dinner with Wen Yanchuan again would be too embarrassing. But Wen Yanchuan simply dismissed her with one line: “I still owe you a meal.”
How could Wen Man afford to be coy after that?
Wen Yanchuan closed his laptop and placed it on the center console, raising a hand to pinch the bridge of his nose, seemingly somewhat fatigued.
“What are you thinking about?”
Wen Yanchuan’s voice was deep and mellow, incredibly pleasant to the ear.
Wen Man snapped back to reality, her earlobes still tinged with a hint of shy redness.
She reached up to smooth her hair and asked, “Are you finished with work, Mr. Wen?”
Wen Yanchuan’s Adam’s apple bobbed slightly. “Apologies for being busy with work even while out for dinner.”
Wen Man offered a smile, sincere yet distant, her words impeccably measured. “Mr. Wen is busy with work; that’s understandable.”
Wen Yanchuan raised an eyebrow, as if recalling something. Leaning back in his seat, he turned to look at Wen Man, his voice softening slightly.
“Does Miss Wen truly understand?”
Wen Man nodded, speaking with conviction. “Of course. For someone as successful as Mr. Wen, time is money.”
Wen Yanchuan found it amusing. “Then who was the one who got upset before because I couldn’t make our appointment due to a business trip…”
Wen Man turned to look out the car window, pretending not to hear.
…
Wen Man hadn’t expected Wen Yanchuan to take her to a Japanese restaurant.
But when the car stopped at the entrance of the Japanese restaurant and Wen Yanchuan led her into a private room, she realized he truly intended to take her for Japanese cuisine.
She had assumed someone of Wen Yanchuan’s status would take her to an upscale Western restaurant, where the most expensive violin music would play, and he would order a bottle of pricey red wine.
Wen Man’s dress made it difficult to sit comfortably. Staring at the tatami mat before her, she ran through countless poses in her mind, trying to figure out how to avoid exposing herself.
Wen Yanchuan seemed to notice Wen Man’s awkwardness and turned to say something to the server.
Seizing the moment, Wen Man quickly sat down, taking off her fox fur coat and draping it over her legs to cover any revealing glimpses.
When Wen Yanchuan turned back, he happened to catch sight of Wen Man’s exposed shoulders. Her collarbones stood out like butterfly wings, with two thin straps barely holding up the champagne-colored dress, which, to his surprise, also featured a V-neck.
Wen Yanchuan promptly averted his gaze.
He gently pushed the plate of premium salmon toward Wen Man.
Wen Man looked at the salmon, then up at Wen Yanchuan, seemingly taken aback.
When she had first sat down, she had found it odd.
All the dishes on the table were her favorites, while eel—a staple in Japanese cuisine—was conspicuously absent.
It was what she disliked the most.
Wen Man picked up a piece of salmon with her chopsticks and chewed it, her eyes filled with delight. However, she also noticed that Wen Yanchuan had barely touched his food.
“Aren’t you going to eat, Mr. Wen?”
Wen Yanchuan lifted his eyelids slightly. “Carsick. No appetite.”
Wen Man furrowed her brows, as if pondering. “Is it because of that video conference? I heard you shouldn’t eat raw food when you’re carsick.”
Wen Yanchuan gave a low hum of acknowledgment, offering no further explanation.
He wasn’t carsick; he simply didn’t care for raw food.
Although he had grown up in London, the rarest he could tolerate in steak was medium-well. If even a hint of blood appeared, he would immediately set down his knife and fork and rinse his mouth with red wine.
But he knew Wen Man enjoyed it. Seven months earlier, she had posted a nine-grid photo on her Weibo from a Japanese restaurant.
Wen Man V: “People change, but the love for salmon never will.”
Wen Yanchuan had looked through the dishes showcased in the nine-grid photo and memorized each one.
But he would never tell Wen Man that he had seen her Weibo.
He wanted Wen Man to freely reveal another side of herself in a place where she thought he didn’t know, without needing to be overly cautious.
This meal left Wen Man thoroughly satisfied.
After Wen Man finished eating, Wen Yanchuan called the waiter to bring over a square gift box.
The waiter handed the gift box to Wen Man, who looked at Wen Yanchuan with confusion. “For me?”
Wen Yanchuan nodded slightly and said softly, “A Christmas gift.”
In an instant, Wen Man felt extremely flustered and quickly waved her hands. “No need, Mr. Wen has already given me enough gifts tonight.”
Wasn’t 1,500 Carnivals enough? Wen Man thought to herself.
As if he had anticipated her refusal, Wen Yanchuan said in a low voice, “Since I’ve taken up Miss Wen’s holiday time, it’s only natural to give a gift.
It’s not something expensive, so Miss Wen can easily return the favor.”
As soon as Wen Yanchuan said this, Wen Man’s anxious heart settled.
She had been afraid Wen Yanchuan would give her something she couldn’t possibly repay.
With things having reached this point, Wen Man no longer had a reason to refuse.
She took the gift box but didn’t open it in front of him. Instead, she asked Wen Yanchuan, “I still don’t know what Mr. Wen likes?”
Wen Yanchuan slightly lifted his gaze to look at Wen Man. “Asking someone what they like when giving a gift—I’m afraid Miss Wen will have to figure that out on her own.”
Wen Man frowned slightly. “Figuring it out would require spending more time with Mr. Wen. Since you’re so busy with work, tonight’s dinner has already taken up a lot of your time. Later, I’ll have my assistant deliver the gift to you.”
Wen Yanchuan narrowed his eyes slightly as he studied Wen Man, finding it amusing.
The salmon she had just eaten hadn’t even been digested yet, and already someone was turning her back on him.
“Miss Wen, I’m not concerned about your gift, but rather whether I can see you again.”
Wen Yanchuan’s voice was calm. “Since Miss Wen finds it too troublesome to figure out my preferences, why not change the reason?”
Wen Man’s heart skipped a beat, and a buzzing seemed to ring in her ears. Wen Yanchuan’s directness caught her off guard.
“When will Miss Wen return my coat?”
Wen Man’s previously lifted heart sank instantly, and the blood in her body turned cold.
Wen Man: “…”