16 – Were You Peeking at Me?
Wen Song was startled when the door opened. She was half-lying on the bed, her calves still kicked up in the air with no time to pull them back.
“Why are you here?” She quietly pressed her phone face-down onto the bed.
She didn’t know why, but she felt a little guilty.
She had indeed planned to sleep after changing, but Shen Lingyao had sent her a WeChat message.
That girl was currently sunbathing on a beach with a bunch of male models—every single one of them with slim waists and long legs, enough to make anyone drool.
Pei Qingji didn’t say anything, but his eyes were fixed intently on her.
Wen Song felt a little embarrassed under his gaze. She coughed lightly behind her hand. “I didn’t have pajamas, and I didn’t want to wrinkle my dress, so I just borrowed your shirt to make do.”
The more she explained, the more certain Pei Qingji became that she had absolutely no idea how breathtaking she looked right now.
Especially the way she was half-lying there looking up at him, her fair neck and collarbones completely exposed.
Her lips moved as she spoke, but Pei Qingji couldn’t hear a single word she was saying.
Seeing that he wasn’t responding, Wen Song thought he was angry and quickly added, “I’ll buy you a new shirt.”
“Alright.”
Pei Qingji agreed with lightning speed, as if he was afraid she might take it back.
“So…?”
Wen Song’s gaze drifted toward the door, silently asking when he was going to leave.
But instead of walking out, Pei Qingji stepped forward toward the bed.
He narrowed his eyes, leaning down like a wolf stalking its prey, radiating an overwhelming sense of pressure and danger.
Wen Song couldn’t help but swallow nervously. She braced her hands to scoot backward, trying to escape his “hunting zone.”
But his movements were faster after all. His arm slipped around her waist and pulled her flush against him.
“You—”
Wen Song started in panic, but the next second, Pei Qingji yanked the blanket out from beneath her and immediately tucked her into it.
Wen Song was completely bewildered, but Pei Qingji simply smoothed the corner of the blanket over her and lightly tapped her forehead with his finger. “Be a good girl and sleep. Don’t run around.”
Run around?
Wen Song was even more confused. She’d been in the lounge ever since she entered his office—where exactly was she supposed to have run off to?
“Call me if you need anything. I’ll be right outside.”
“Oh.” Wen Song responded casually.
Pei Qingji was amused by her slightly pouting expression. He leaned down, wanting to kiss her again.
But having learned her lesson last time, Wen Song was already on guard.
She quickly raised her hand and pressed it against his lips. “You’re not allowed to kiss me.”
Pei Qingji let out a helpless chuckle. She could feel the curve of his smile rise and fall against her palm through his lips.
“Fine.” He resignedly took her hand away, then pressed his forehead gently against hers, nuzzling softly before finally getting up and leaving.
Wen Song rolled over, her gaze following his retreating figure.
Shen Lingyao was probably having a blast with all those male models right now, so she likely wouldn’t have time to bother her.
Wen Song yawned and closed her eyes, starting to drift toward sleep.
She had no idea what perfume Pei Qingji used, but his body, his clothes, even the places he’d been—they all carried a faint scent.
It wasn’t as cold as incense, much lighter than sandalwood, with a hint of evening breeze woven into it.
Regardless, it was a scent that made one feel at ease. Wen Song fell asleep before long.
She had no idea how long she had slept, only that this time she had woken up naturally.
Wen Song struggled to sit up, and only after glancing around for two seconds did she realize she was in Pei Qingji’s lounge.
She turned over and got out of bed, first going to the bathroom to wash her face, and only then did she feel like she was fully alive again.
She was just about to head out and take a look when her phone, which she had forgotten on the bed, started blaring.
Wen Song went over to check it—it was a number without a saved contact, but she knew who it was.
She pressed the answer button and spoke first: “We’re this close, why are you calling?”
Pei Qingji pressed his hand to his forehead, spinning his chair around along with himself.
He lowered his voice and said, “Change your clothes before you come out.”
Wen Song’s steps faltered. She looked down at the white shirt she was wearing—it couldn’t be described as neat; it was an absolute mess.
She really had forgotten about that just now. Not to mention, the fabric of Pei Qingji’s shirt was especially comfortable, with no burden at all when worn, and the more comfortable it was, the more she forgot it was even there.
She let out an “Oh,” but quickly caught on. “How do you know I haven’t changed?”
This time it was Pei Qingji’s turn to stammer and fail to find words. He changed the subject: “I still have work to do, I’ll hang up now.”
The call ended, and Pei Qingji turned to wave at Jiang Heng. “You can head out first.”
Jiang Heng now wore an expression of “I understand it all.” Although Pei Qingji hadn’t said much just now, he had still picked up on the deeper meaning.
“Alright, President Pei.” Jiang Heng immediately acknowledged and slipped away.
At the office door, he deliberately didn’t close it and coughed a few times, drawing everyone’s attention from outside.
“Ahem, ahem, President Pei has a very important video meeting next that can’t be disturbed. From now until the end of the workday, report anything to me first.”
He was the executive assistant, and Pei Qingji’s intentions were conveyed through him, so naturally no one had any objections.
Jiang Heng nodded solemnly, then turned to Pei Qingji with an expression of “Aren’t I considerate?” and quickly shut the door before Pei Qingji could get angry.
Pei Qingji looked at the doorway, a mix of amusement and helplessness. Jiang Heng really was a live wire.
Back when he had chosen Jiang Heng from among all the interviewees, it was because of his lively personality. Many people seemed afraid of him, but Jiang Heng still dared to joke around.
Back then, Pei Qingji always felt his life was a bit rigid, and he needed someone like Jiang Heng by his side, otherwise he’d fall even further behind the younger generation’s way of thinking.
He shook his head, got up, and went to lock the office door.
The moment it clicked shut, he heard a click from the lounge door—the sound of it opening.
Pei Qingji looked up and met eyes with Wen Song, who was sneakily poking her head out.
Wen Song didn’t look at him; instead, she swept her gaze around the entire area.
Good, no one around now.
She yanked the door open and stormed out furiously.
“Pei Qingji!!! Are you spying on me?!”
She rushed toward him with hurried steps, and Pei Qingji watched with his heart in his throat, afraid she might trip and fall at any moment.
He also strode quickly in her direction, and Wen Song, unable to stop in time, crashed straight into him.
Luckily, Pei Qingji’s reflexes were fast enough—he reached out and caught Wen Song in his arms. She took advantage of the momentum and jumped, and now she was hanging entirely off him.
She had come out intending to settle scores, but somehow it had suddenly turned into a “koala hug.”
Pei Qingji sighed. “Next time, little—”
Wen Song covered his mouth. “You’re not allowed to speak. I’ll speak first.”
Pei Qingji blinked, signaling his agreement, and only then did Wen Song release her hand from his mouth.
“Did you secretly watch me?”
Pei Qingji no longer needed her to cover his mouth—he pressed his lips together and stayed silent.
That was as good as an admission. Wen Song huffed and glared at him, then asked again, “Do you have surveillance in your lounge?”
Pei Qingji still turned his head away, refusing to look at her, but Wen Song’s gaze began to survey the office.
A moment later, like a proud queen, she commanded Pei Qingji, “Go over to the desk.”
Even though she was the one being held by him at that moment, she was the one in control.