“You…?”
“…Why are you dressed like that today?”
Qian Zhaoye’s voice faltered for a moment, his gaze sweeping over Qu He—from the hem of her hazy blue skirt to her delicate makeup. His Adam’s apple rolled unconsciously, his eyes tinged with confusion, but more than that, with admiration.
Qu He stepped forward slowly, her skirt swaying like a blooming blue rose.
“Don’t I look good?”
The rising sunlight streamed through the window, casting an ethereal glow upon her.
In a daze, Qian Zhaoye seemed to see the girl in a white dress running toward him seven years ago.
He recalled the words he had spoken in the bridal chamber last night—could she have actually taken them to heart?
Could it be that Qu He had deliberately worn a dress today, using this as a way to give him a way down? As a way to make peace with him?
So she had finally lowered her head after all.
The thought of Qu He humbling herself before him to seek reconciliation filled Qian Zhaoye with inexplicable satisfaction. That hidden sense of conquest surged forth once again, and even the anger from being pulled over for a sobriety check dissipated by more than half.
“Beautiful, of course you’re beautiful. You should have dressed like this long ago.”
Qian Zhaoye unconsciously softened his tone, gazing at Qu He with the hypocritical smile he always wore.
He loved nothing more than seeing Qu He bow her head and submit to him again and again—like taming an obedient cat, making it impossible for her to ever escape his grasp.
Qian Zhaoye said, “Last night… my tone wasn’t great. Don’t take it to heart.”
He deliberately lowered his voice. “But A He, you need to understand—no matter what, I love you. It’s all for our future…”
Those hypocritical, nauseating words coiled around her once more like a cold, sinister snake.
She knew Qian Zhaoye’s current expression all too well. Every time he felt he had complete control over her, he would look at her with that seemingly gentle gaze.
Did he think this was some great favor? Some grand charity?
Absolutely ridiculous!
Qu He suppressed her disgust, subtly stepping back half a pace, and raised the file folder between them. “These documents need your signature.”
Qian Zhaoye didn’t think much of it. As he took the files, he even made a show of intimacy by brushing his fingers over the back of Qu He’s hand.
He returned to his desk and sat down, casually flipping through a few pages. After a brief scan, he took out his fountain pen and began signing.
Qu He’s gaze followed his every movement intently.
Three pages, two pages, one page.
Seeing that he was about to reach the resignation letter tucked in the middle, her heartbeat quickened involuntarily. Her clenched fists were already damp with sweat.
“What’s wrong with you today? In a bad mood?”
Qu He suddenly spoke.
Even though she had deliberately lowered her voice, mimicking her usual tone of concern, a hint of tension still bled through.
Fortunately, Qian Zhaoye noticed nothing amiss.
Hearing Qu He’s words, his attention was immediately diverted.
He scribbled his signature with a few swift strokes, then snapped the folder shut with a “thud” and pushed it forward.
“Don’t even mention it!”
Qian Zhaoye’s expression reverted to the gloom he’d worn that morning.
“I ran into traffic cops on my way out last night—got pulled over for a sobriety check!”
At the mention of it, he irritably yanked at his tie. “What the hell. I’ve driven that road countless times and never once seen a checkpoint. Why the hell did I have to run into one the one night I’d had a few drinks?”
“I spent the whole night at the police station. Those people…”
When Qu He heard that Qian Zhaoye hadn’t suspected her of being behind the sobriety check, she quietly let out a breath.
She took the folder, flipped to the resignation letter page, and upon seeing the signature there, her turbulent heart finally settled.
Qian Zhaoye’s endless complaints continued in her ears—from the traffic cops’ attitude, to the cold, hard chairs at the station, to not having eaten all night, to rushing straight to the company after finally getting out…
As he rambled on, Qian Zhaoye finally sensed something amiss.
Qu He’s attitude!
Her uncharacteristic silence!
He stopped complaining, furrowed his brow, and looked at Qu He standing across the desk.
She didn’t seem to be paying attention to what he was saying at all. She was simply organizing the documents, wearing an air of detached calm, as if it had nothing to do with her.
Was she even listening to what he’d just said?
In the past, if she’d known something like this had happened to him, Qu He would have anxiously asked if he was hurt. She would have been more worried than he was, fretting that he hadn’t slept all night, feeling sorry that he hadn’t eaten, even offering to cook him porridge…
But today?
An inexplicable sense of panic surged through his chest.
Qian Zhaoye unconsciously rubbed his stomach, which was beginning to ache dully. After the whole ordeal at the police station last night, he hadn’t had so much as a drop of water, let alone a bite to eat. Combined with Qu He’s strange attitude, a suffocating tightness began to build in his chest.
Something about Qu He today felt… different.
Unfamiliar.
Though the woman before him had changed her usual style of dress, in that moment, that striking blue seemed to dissolve into an elusive, unfathomable mist that swirled around the tip of his heart.
He couldn’t grasp her. He could only watch her drift further and further away.
“A He…”
Qian Zhaoye suddenly stood up and walked over to Qu He.
He wanted to reach for her hand, but she pulled away.
Qian Zhaoye was inexplicably stubborn. He grabbed her hand firmly, as if trying to prove something through this gesture.
“I was in a bad mood last night. How about we go out for dinner tonight? We can go to that French restaurant you like so much, okay?”
Qu He didn’t answer. She simply turned slightly and withdrew her hand from his grip.
She had never liked French food.
It was expensive and never filling.
Qian Zhaoye’s hand hung in the air, and he paused for a moment.
Just as he was about to say something, he heard Qu He speak with concern: “You haven’t eaten all night, so your stomach must be uncomfortable. How about I cook you some congee for lunch?”
There was a small kitchen right next to Qian Zhaoye’s office. Because he had a weak stomach, Qu He often cooked congee and noodles for him there on regular days. She cared about his health even more than he did.
Her words were like a sedative, instantly calming the unease rising in Qian Zhaoye’s heart.
He couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief, and even Qu He’s earlier avoidance no longer bothered him.
She was still the same—the Qu He who always, at every moment, put him first.
He must have been overthinking things just now…
Qian Zhaoye affectionately tucked a stray strand of hair behind her ear. “A He, I’m so lucky to have you.”
There it was again—that fake, insincere smile.
Qu He suppressed the urge to slap his hand away, forcing a stiff smile at the corners of her mouth. “I’ll head out first, then.”
The moment the office door closed, Qu He finally dropped her false smile.
She took out her phone, opened a food delivery app, and ordered a bowl of congee with dried scallops and fresh shrimp, adding a note: “Must be piping hot!”
This was Qian Zhaoye’s favorite congee.
He had a weak stomach. When the company was first established, Qian Zhaoye was busy with business dinners and often couldn’t make time for breakfast. Back then, she would get up early on freezing winter mornings just to cook for him because he’d said, “A He, I want to drink the congee you make.”
The dried scallops needed to be soaked and prepared forty minutes in advance, and the fresh shrimp were ones she personally picked out at the seafood market, cleaning and deveining them herself.
She had spent seven years on a man who never truly cared about her. How foolish she had been!