Once she reached the third floor, Ruan Zhi realized that when the man said she could choose any guest room she wanted, he had simply arranged for her to stay next to his study—and his bedroom was on the other side of the study.
“Miss Ruan, I noticed you’re about the same size as the lady of the house, so I brought you a nightgown she’s never worn—please don’t mind.”
Mrs. Song left and then came back.
Madam?
Is that Rong Che’s mother?
Ruan Zhi’s gaze fell on the lustrous, apricot-colored nightgown in her hands, and a strange feeling suddenly welled up in her heart.
Rong Che had mentioned to her once that his mother had passed away when he was very young.
These clothes are as good as new and have been preserved to this day, which shows just how much the person who took care of them cherished them.
Aunt Song didn’t notice anything unusual about her and thoughtfully reminded her:
“The toiletries in the bathroom are all new, so please feel free to use them. I won’t disturb your rest any further.”
After thanking her, Mrs. Song left, and Ruan Zhi locked her door as she always did.
Seeing the pajamas on the bed, she hesitated for a moment, but then picked them up and went into the bathroom.
She had previously vomited all over Rong Che, and some of it inevitably got on her as well; now she could smell a sour, foul odor.
When she came out of the bathroom, she made a point of checking her reflection in the mirror a few times.
That silk nightgown fit her perfectly—simple yet elegant.
Her curly hair, blow-dried until it was about seventy or eighty percent dry, fell loosely down her back; her face was flushed from the heat, and her eyes glistened with tears.
She was lost in thought for a moment and suddenly felt that her eyes and brows had taken on a touch of femininity, losing some of the youthful innocence she used to have.
For some reason, the image of that man wearing a navy blue robe flashed through her mind.
Judging by the style and material, it looks like it’s from the same collection as the pajamas she’s wearing?
The moment the thought crossed her mind, she felt as if the soft fabric against her skin had suddenly sprouted a dense patch of thorns, pricking her so badly that she wanted to take it off right away.
But in the end, reason prevailed over that inexplicable sense of unease.
She put the clothes she had taken off into the washing machine to wash, and is waiting for them to dry so she can wear them tomorrow morning.
Surely you wouldn’t sleep naked.
That night, she dreamed all night long.
One moment, Rong Che and she were having a sweet and romantic wedding; the next, she caught them in the act right in front of her.
The scene shifts to her chasing after Rong Che, shouting and crying, while he, with his arm around Xia Shan, who is holding the child, turns to her and says coldly:
“Ruan Ruan, I’ve never loved you. The person I’ve always loved is Xia Shan. I just felt sorry for you.”
Every scene was as vivid as if it were actually happening, offering a full range of emotions—sweet, sour, bitter, and spicy.
But when I opened my eyes the next day, I couldn’t remember a single thing about the dream; only a bittersweet aftertaste lingered in my heart.
As she came to, she instinctively jumped out of bed, ran to the window, and pulled back the curtains—only to find the whole world blanketed in white, with snowflakes still falling gently.
Down in the courtyard, a few red plum trees and a dark figure standing beneath them stood out as the only splashes of color, looking strikingly vivid against the snow-white landscape.
Suddenly, the dark figure stopped what he was doing, stood up, and put his hands on his hips. As if sensing someone watching him, he looked up, pinpointed her location, and beckoned for her to come downstairs.
Ruan Zhi paused for a moment, pretended not to notice, pulled the curtains closed, and curled back up in bed under the covers.
I made up my mind: since I couldn’t go down the mountain in this weather, I might as well stay in my room to avoid any contact with him.
But Rong Junheng clearly didn’t see it that way.
Less than two minutes later, Ruan Zhi heard a knock on the door. It was Mrs. Song:
“Miss Ruan, I’ve already made your breakfast. If you’re awake, please come downstairs to eat.”
“…Okay, I’ll be right there.”
After replying, I silently berated myself.
Ruan Zhi, when are you going to stop being the type who only responds with kindness and not to firmness?
After putting on her dry clothes, she went downstairs. Thankfully, the man wasn’t in the dining room. When Mrs. Song saw her, she hurriedly served breakfast:
“I wasn’t sure what you liked to eat, so I just made it the way Mr Rong said. Please take your time eating—Mr Rong and Ah-xing have already eaten.”
When she heard her mention Ah Xing, Ruan Zhi was surprised: “Ah-Xing’s here too? Did he go up the mountain this morning?”
Aunt Song was taken aback for a moment: “He hasn’t left the mountain since he came back last night. Ah Xing is Mr Rong’s personal bodyguard; he’s been staying here the whole time.”
Ruan Zhi froze, her mind racing as she recalled the man’s words from last night.
It seems to say that Ah Xing has finished work for the day, but it doesn’t say he’s gone down the mountain.
But I subconsciously assumed that when he said “off work,” he meant that Ah Xing had gone down the mountain to go home.
So… last night, even though he could have had Ah Xing drive her down the mountain, he deliberately said he couldn’t arrange for anyone to do it!
The more she thought about it, the more annoyed she became; she chewed her walnut bun harder and harder, finished breakfast in a few bites, and went to settle the score.
In the courtyard, covered in a thick layer of snow, beneath a red plum tree, the man showed no sign of being cold. He wore only a loose-fitting black turtleneck sweater, with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing a section of his toned, muscular forearm.
He’s bent over, building a snowman?
Ruan Zhi asked Aunt Song for an umbrella, then walked slowly through the soft snow until she was behind the man.
Only then did she notice that he still had a half-smoked cigarette clamped between two fingers.
“Have you ever built a snowman?”
Rong Junheng heard the sound and turned to look at her.
Ruan Zhi was taken aback by the question; the anger she had been holding back faltered for a moment, and her downcast eyes darkened slightly.
“No.”
When her parents were still alive, every winter when the sun shone brightly in Haicheng, her father would say to her:
“Ruanruan, when we get the chance someday, Daddy will take you back to Rongcheng to see the snow, and we’ll build a snowman together that’s just as pretty and cute as you.”
During her years in Fuzhou, she had, of course, seen snow, but the person who had promised to help her build a snowman was no longer there.
“It’s my first time, too.”
The young girl’s sense of loss and desolation were written all over her face. Rong Junheng pinched the cigarette between his fingers, took a deep drag, and flicked it into the snow.
“Want to give it a try?”
Looking at the two plump, dark grapes on the man’s frostbitten, red palms, Ruan Zhi paused for a moment before reaching out a finger.
The snowman Rong Junheng built had only a plump body and a round head, but the little accessories he’d prepared were actually quite complete.
The man took the umbrella from her hand, and she couldn’t hide the little flutter of excitement in her heart as she finished sculpting the snowman’s features.
Black grape eyes, a pointy carrot nose, and lips shaped like carrot shreds.
It’s just that the head is completely bald, and not too happy about it.
She looked up at the tree, its branches covered in vibrant red blossoms that even the white snow couldn’t hide, and glanced somewhat uneasily at the man holding an umbrella over her:
“Could you pick some plum blossoms for me?”
I had clearly come to settle the score with him, but now I was excitedly building a snowman, leaving me feeling frustrated and at a loss.
Rong Junheng looked at the girl’s cheeks, rosy from the cold, full of vitality—finally no longer lifeless.
He curved the corners of his mouth slightly. “Of course.”
With the umbrella in his hand, he reached out and effortlessly plucked several red plum blossoms.
Ruan Zhi arranged a circle of plum blossoms around the snowman’s head, then took off her pink down jacket and put it on the snowman.
Only then did she place her hands on her hips with satisfaction and admire her masterpiece.
Suddenly, someone tucked a strand of hair from the right side of her temple behind her ear, and then something was pinned next to her ear—it felt cool to the touch, and she caught a faint whiff of a refreshing plum blossom scent.
“Did you have fun?”
The man leaned over her from behind, his hot breath brushing against her ear, his deep voice so gentle it made her heart flutter.
She panicked and hurriedly tried to step aside, but the man grabbed her slender shoulder and turned her around so they were facing each other.
Those deep, mysterious eyes held a light that sent shivers down her spine, forcefully locking onto hers and leaving her no room to look away.
“…I’m happy.”
She couldn’t deny it.
“As long as you’re happy.”
Rong Junheng’s gaze fell on the red plum blossom by her ear, then slowly swept over her face, which was even more beautiful than the flower itself; he was very pleased that he was the one who had brought joy to her.
“So, after sleeping on it, what did you decide?”