18 – With Pleasure
A trace of stiffness appeared on Wen Man’s face.
Wen Yanchuan looked at Wen Man’s expression, seeming to think of something, and raised an eyebrow: “Thrown away?”
Wen Man instantly remembered that day at Wendy’s house, when she had said with firmness and indifference that she would throw away Wen Yanchuan’s clothes, she had never imagined he would ask for them back.
After all, that night in Paris, Wen Yanchuan had been utterly cold, his eyes filled with disgust.
Wen Man truly believed Wen Yanchuan wouldn’t take back a coat he had given away—this was a lesson learned from past experience.
But the next moment, Wen Man’s expression softened.
She looked at Wen Yanchuan, her tone becoming somewhat more relaxed: “Of course not, Mr. Wen’s clothes are quite valuable.”
Wen Yanchuan did not expose her, merely giving a slight nod.
When they stepped out of the Japanese restaurant, a light rain had begun to fall.
Sitting in the car, perhaps tired from the day, Wen Man was already starting to feel drowsy.
The temperature inside the car gradually rose, and Wen Man, feeling warm, relaxed against the seatback, her whole body loosening.
Her gaze fixed on the center console separating her from Wen Yanchuan, which displayed the current temperature inside the car, emitting a faint glow. Wen Man raised her hand, gently touching the screen showing the numbers, her eyes almost too heavy to keep open.
Wen Yanchuan merely lowered his gaze, taking in her small movements, including her weary appearance.
As the car entered a tunnel, the warm yellow tunnel lights shone brightly, filtering through the dark tea-colored windows and illuminating Wen Man’s champagne sequined dress, making it shimmer brilliantly. Only then did Wen Yanchuan take a closer look at her outfit—the sequins were actually tiny diamonds sewn on.
Wen Man’s fair skin rested against the car seat, half of it exposed to the light, the other half hidden in the darkness of the car. The curly hair draped over her chest seemed to be bathed in a soft glow, each strand like it had been touched by gentle light.
She was very quiet, breathing steadily, her chest rising and falling slightly. Wen Yanchuan leaned forward a little and saw that Wen Man had closed her eyes at some point, having fallen asleep in the car.
The car radio was softly playing a gentle Cantonese song, somewhat old-fashioned, which Wen Man had requested after getting in the car, finding the atmosphere too stifling.
Wen Yanchuan rarely listened to music in the car. He was usually too busy, either in meetings or resting during rides, though he would occasionally tune into live news on the radio. He had no time for leisurely pursuits.
He looked at Wen Man and leaned back.
Wen Man’s fingers on the center console lightly brushed against the sleeve of his suit jacket—just the cuff, not even enough to disturb the metal cufflink. Yet, Wen Yanchuan still felt the softness of her fingertips, almost imperceptible.
As if uncertain, Wen Yanchuan moved his arm slightly again, letting her pale fingertips touch the fabric of his cuff, his movements gentle, careful not to wake Wen Man.
Restraint mingled with greed.
“If this is romance, why do I feel we’re about to part
You’ve cried, but your eyeshadow shines even brighter
Whose lover am I? You remain yourself
Smiling silently at each other, smiles sadder than tears
No matter how happy, brows furrowed
Even holding you tight
…”
Under the car window, a flash of light swept by, dappling Wen Man’s face. The song’s melody gradually blurred, and Wen Yanchuan sat quietly, the beating in his chest deafening.
…
When Wen Man woke again, Wen Yanchuan’s car had already stopped downstairs at her apartment.
The interior of the car was completely silent, the lights were off, and everything around was dark.
Wen Man looked at the unfamiliar surroundings and froze for a moment. She shifted slightly before remembering she had fallen asleep in the car. When she turned her head, she saw Wen Yanchuan leaning back beside her, his eyes slightly closed.
Hearing the movement, Wen Yanchuan opened his eyes. “Awake?”
Wen Man took out her phone and checked the time—it was already past midnight. She had slept quite soundly.
“Why didn’t you wake me, Mr. Wen?”
Through the darkness, Wen Man could still vaguely see the faint weariness on Wen Yanchuan’s face.
Wen Yanchuan tugged at his collar, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly. He raised a hand to massage his temples, his voice carrying a hint of hoarseness.
“No rush.”
Outside the window, the raindrops grew denser, pattering against the glass. They clustered together, slowly sliding down the window, leaving streaks of watermarks.
The sound of rain was noisy, thick and unrelenting.
Watching Wen Yanchuan’s movements, Wen Man felt a pang of guilt.
She adjusted her posture, sitting up straight and pulling her coat tighter around her. The car was silent, and Wen Man felt somewhat awkward.
“Well… I should head back now?”
Wen Man bit her tongue as she said this. She felt it was impolite to leave so hastily after just waking up, barely having exchanged a few words.
But it was truly late, and Wen Yanchuan was already exhausted. It wouldn’t be appropriate for her to disturb him any longer.
For some reason, Wen Man began to feel a bit flustered.
Wen Yanchuan gave a low “Mm” and retrieved the gift box he had prepared for Wen Man, handing it to her.
“Your gift. Don’t forget it.”
Wen Man took the gift box, holding it carefully in her hands as if it were something precious.
In truth, before Christmas, she had received many gifts—some sent by fans to her company, others Christmas greetings from brands.
Wen Man hadn’t opened Wen Yanchuan’s gift yet, but she treasured this one especially.
She found her own heart behaving strangely.
She had only met Wen Yanchuan once, shared a single meal with him, yet her heart already leaned toward him.
Her previous prejudices against Wen Yanchuan seemed to have dissipated somewhat at this moment.
Was it just somewhat? Or had they all vanished?
Wen Man didn’t know.
She instinctively felt that Wen Yanchuan was different from what others said about him.
Wen Yanchuan looked at Wen Man, his fingers lightly tapping on the center console. “Are you busy with work lately?”
Wen Man thought about her upcoming schedule and answered earnestly, “…I’ll be on a variety show the day before New Year’s Eve. After that, it’ll be the New Year holiday, I suppose.”
She wasn’t a big star, not so busy that her feet never touched the ground.
Wen Yanchuan gave another soft “Mm” and asked, “Alone?”
“What?” Wen Man didn’t understand.
“On New Year’s Day.”
Wen Man paused, then nodded, but quickly shook her head. “My assistant will be with me. If she doesn’t go home after work, that’s usually how it is every year.”
Wen Yanchuan gave a slight nod.
He turned to look into Wen Man’s bright, sparkling eyes, as if posing a question to her.
“There will be a fireworks display on the Thames in London that night. Would Miss Wen be willing to accompany me?”
Wen Man looked into Wen Yanchuan’s eyes. She was absolutely certain he wasn’t actually asking her.
Because his tone was far too calm.
He was certain Wen Man would go.
Wen Man caressed the gift box in her hands, her calm exterior concealing a heart as dazzling as fireworks yet restless beyond restraint.
A faint smile touched her lips, her voice so soft it was almost inaudible.
“With the greatest pleasure.”