“Who’s poisoning you?”
Qin Sang muttered under her breath in helpless annoyance, then reached out to take the washed broccoli from Sheng Yu’s hand. Instead of broccoli, several packets of preserved plum strips suddenly ended up in her palm.
“Plum strips?”
She stared at the snack she hadn’t eaten in years, her heart tightening for no reason at all. Even her gaze trembled slightly.
After breaking up with him, she had never bought them again.
Sheng Yu caught the fleeting change in her expression, his own emotions stirring. When he spoke, though, his tone was casual and flat. “I remembered you used to like them. Picked up a few bags at the supermarket.”
He said it lightly, as if it meant nothing—but Qin Sang’s heart still jolted. Before she could think further, Sheng Yu spoke again. “Take the plum strips to the living room and wait. It’ll be ready soon.”
He made a point of sounding calm and natural, yet every word had been carefully weighed—deliberately meant to hook her heart.
With a few offhand remarks, he conveyed that he’d never forgotten her preferences all these years, then neatly cut the topic short.
Like a feather brushing lightly across her heart—gone the next second, leaving only a lingering tremor. Faint, elusive, yet enough to stir waves of imagination.
And indeed, something long buried in Qin Sang was stirred—only for her to force it back down at once. She couldn’t allow herself such feelings.
“I don’t like them anymore,” she said coolly, setting the plum strips aside. As if on purpose, she added, “It’s been so many years. Nothing stays the same forever.”
Sheng Yu glanced at the snack she’d put aside but didn’t react, simply letting her words pass.
At moments like this, silence was best—the only way for her to keep interacting with him calmly.
The next second, Qin Sang spoke again, stubborn as ever. “I’ll cook instead.”
Sheng Yu didn’t stop her this time. He turned his head slightly, smiling. “Let’s do it together.”
Then, deliberately, he added, “It’s pretty slow doing it alone, and I still have something later.”
Not wanting to delay his schedule, Qin Sang nodded immediately. “Okay.”
As soon as she spoke, an arm stretched out in front of her. Then she heard him say, perfectly naturally, “Can you help me roll up my sleeves?”
He even kindly gave her an excuse she couldn’t refuse. “My hands are wet.”
Qin Sang looked at his damp hands and could only agree. “Alright.”
Two soft “alrights” in a row—so obedient it made Sheng Yu’s heart itch unbearably.
She was standing very close to him now, head lowered, fair fingers pinching the cuff of his black shirt as she rolled it up.
He looked down at her, his gaze gradually softening. From this angle, he could see her lightly trembling lashes and the faint pink at the tip of her nose.
Once, she had held him like this, her nose brushing against his chin.
Later, those images existed only in dreams. Now, the reality before him was impossible not to crave.
Her fingertips brushed his arm from time to time, stirring his heart without a sound—like an electric current, numbing and seductive.
Unable to hold back, he leaned down, about to kiss her—
But at that exact moment, Qin Sang suddenly lifted her head.
Unaware of everything, she looked up at him with her clear, gentle face, blinking once as she asked, “Is this okay?”
She pointed with her pale finger at his neatly rolled sleeves.
Sheng Yu, who had been watching her all along, instantly hid the aggressive desire in his eyes. He smiled lightly, feigning calm. “That’s fine.”
They turned back to preparing dinner together.
Qin Sang handled the prep work; Sheng Yu cooked.
He didn’t say anything else that might stir her heart—too much would only backfire. To weave ambiguity, he also had to leave her space to breathe.
They chatted only about ordinary, everyday topics.
When the dishes were finally set on the table and they sat down, Sheng Yu glanced casually at Qin Sang as she lifted her chopsticks. With deliberate nonchalance, he joked, “It’s been years since I last cooked. Not sure if it still suits your taste.”
What he didn’t say aloud: I only ever cooked for you. After you left, I never cooked for anyone else.
Before, it was for you. Now, it’s still you.
He was carefully weaving a net of devotion, trying once more to capture her.
Qin Sang’s hand froze midair. Her beautiful eyes lifted instinctively to him—then fled at once, as if in panic.
Her heart thundered, yet she didn’t dare think too deeply. Forcing herself to stay calm, she met his gaze again and said, “With President Sheng’s status now, you wouldn’t need to cook for yourself.”
She tugged at a smile, apologetic. “I was supposed to treat you as thanks, yet I ended up letting you cook.”
Sheng Yu had caught that fleeting look—her panic, her racing heart. But hearing her composed, evasive words, he didn’t expose or argue. He merely curved his lips meaningfully and followed her lead.
“It’s fine. Maybe there’ll be another chance.”
As he spoke, he picked up some broccoli she liked and placed it in her bowl. “Try it.”
Relieved that he’d shifted the uncomfortable topic, Qin Sang barely had time to think about his words. By reflex, she picked up a slice of beef and put it in his bowl. “You eat too.”
Sheng Yu glanced at the beef, the corner of his lips lifting. “Okay.”
So she could eat in peace, he didn’t start any conversation. He simply watched her quietly, eating only the single slice of beef she’d given him.
When Qin Sang finished, he suddenly asked—out of nowhere, almost inexplicably—“Have you followed the Sheng family over the years?”
“Huh?”
Qin Sang looked up at him, completely confused.
Though phrased as a question, Sheng Yu clearly hadn’t intended to wait for an answer.
“The Sheng family has a long history. They rose through arms dealing during World War II—immense power, countless branches. My grandfather was aloof by nature, and after being framed by his own brother back then, he cut ties with the Sheng family completely.
“After that, he never mentioned anything about them, living quietly among ordinary people. By my generation, we didn’t even know we were connected to the Sheng family at all.
“And all of this… I only found out the year we broke up.”
He didn’t go on to say what else had happened that year—how his parents had died on the very day they separated, killed in a staged car accident.
On that freezing, snowbound day, he had lost everyone he loved.
Sheng Yu looked at her steadily, his eyes dark and deep, then called her softly, “So, Sang Sang…”
He explained, “Aside from you, I’ve never been engaged to anyone. I never lied to you, and I never intended to hide anything from you.”
After a brief pause, guilt shadowed his eyes. “As for the people who went to your family back then to stir up trouble—I’ll get to the bottom of it within a week and give you an explanation.”
The sudden explanation, and the truth of his background, left Qin Sang stunned. Her eyes widened, her mind going blank—
Until she saw Sheng Yu stand up, smiling lightly as he said, “It’s late. I’ll go now. Get some rest.”
Coming back to herself, Qin Sang watched him reach the door. At last, she couldn’t help following after him, her voice urgent as she called out—
“Sheng Yu.”