Nan Chu dawdled in the bathroom for a full hour before mustering the courage to come out, but she didn’t find Shang Lin in the master bedroom.
All she saw was a glass of warm milk on the nightstand, its steam slowly rising.
Where did he go?
Nan Chu felt uncertain. She shuffled slowly to the second bedroom and knocked gently on the door.
“Mr. Shang?”
There was a brief silence in the second bedroom, followed by Shang Lin’s calm, cool voice.
“I’m here.”
Nan Chu’s breath caught slightly. She said in a small voice, “I’m done with my shower.”
“Mm. I still have work tonight, and I don’t want to disturb your rest, so I’ll sleep in the second bedroom.”
Nan Chu was momentarily stunned, then nodded. “Okay, I’ll go to sleep then.”
“Good night.”
“Good night.”
The second bedroom fell silent again.
Nan Chu looked at the second bedroom door, her slightly parted lips moving as if to speak, but in the end, she said nothing.
Back in the master bedroom, she dried her hair, turned off the night light, and pulled the blanket over herself.
Without the effect of alcohol, the lingering scent of agarwood and sandalwood on the blanket rushed to meet her.
Crisp, steady.
Faint, yet everywhere.
She pulled the blanket open a little and lay on her side. The fragrance on the pillow quietly crept into her nose again.
Nan Chu picked up her phone, stared at the chat window with Shang Lin on WeChat, and lightly tapped the screen, typing a line.
“Mr. Shang, are you angry?”
Her finger hovered over the send button for a long time, then she deleted the words one by one.
What if Shang Lin wasn’t angry at all, and she was just overthinking it? Sending that would be unnecessary.
Forget it. She’d just ask him in person tomorrow morning.
With something weighing on her mind, Nan Chu tossed and turned for a long time before finally falling asleep.
The next day, Nan Chu got up early, ready to apologize to Shang Lin.
Unexpectedly, just as she was about to knock on the door, she heard the old housekeeper downstairs setting out the meal.
“Is Madam looking for the Master?”
“Mm.”
“There were some urgent matters at the company this morning. He ate first and left.”
“Okay, thank you.”
Nan Chu felt a little disappointed and ate her breakfast without tasting it.
She originally wanted to call, but considering Shang Lin might be busy, she sent him a WeChat message instead.
The WeChat contact had been added on the morning of their wedding day.
The chat box was still completely empty.
Nan Chu wanted to send a message to explain that she hadn’t meant to sleep in separate rooms—she was just afraid she might get handsy with Shang Lin.
But she was also worried that sending such a message would make Shang Lin even angrier.
After all, Shang Lin had always been a gentleman to her, while she had only taken one look at him bathing and her mind had already wandered.
Nan Chu deliberated over her wording, and that deliberation lasted until four in the afternoon.
Afraid of disturbing his work, she sent a message asking about dinner instead.
“Mr. Shang, are you coming home for dinner tonight?”
“You eat first. No need to wait for me.”
“Then I’ll bring it to you.”
“No need. The company has a cafeteria.”
“Okay.”
Perhaps sensing that his tone was a bit stiff, Shang Lin sent another message shortly after.
“Get some rest early tonight. I have to work overtime, so I’ll be home late.”
“Okay.”
Rongchuang Technology, President’s Office.
Jiang Shijie, lounging with his legs crossed in Shang Lin’s office, gave Shang Lin a thumbs up and clicked his tongue in admiration.
“That’s the way. If you’d gone straight for the wet-shirt seduction on your wedding night, your wife would definitely have thought you were a player.”
Jiang Shijie spoke with great authority, but Shang Lin just glanced at him.
“Anything else?”
“Fine, fine—killing the donkey after it’s done its job, huh?”
Jiang Shijie felt a pang of hurt feelings. Before leaving, he imparted two more pieces of advice.
“When a couple gets along, they need to take it step by step. Besides, you two had a whirlwind marriage, so you need to give each other space—at least a week.”
“Also, don’t even think about sharing a room with her. Having separate rooms has its benefits. Don’t scare your wife off again.”
Shang Lin’s fingers tapped idly on the table as he sank into thought.
Qingshan Residence.
Nan Chu stared at the messages on her phone, reading word by word from the first one Lu Si had sent to the last.
It really did seem like he was just busy with work.
Or maybe he was angry but wanted to save her some face.
But either way, she didn’t feel she could keep pressing the matter.
Nan Chu felt a tightness in her chest. She turned off the screen, walked out of the room, and was just about to head to the balcony for some fresh air when her phone suddenly rang.
She pressed the answer button, and Jiang Hui, Lu Si’s agent, came through in an urgent voice.
“Xiao Nan, Lu Si got hurt on set today while filming, and now he’s throwing a fit and refusing to have his wound treated. You need to come over right away!”
Hearing news about Lu Si out of the blue, Nan Chu’s heart still gave a sharp pang.
After all, he was someone she’d loved for ten years. Even if she’d thrown him away, there was still a physical ache that lingered.
Nan Chu lowered her eyes slightly and spoke calmly.
“Sister Jiang, I’m sorry, but I’m married now. Lu Si’s matters have nothing to do with me.”
Married? Married?!
Jiang Hui’s pupils dilated in shock, thinking she must have misheard.
After all, she’d seen with her own eyes how well Nan Chu had treated Lu Si all these years.
When Lu Si was in a car accident and injured, Nan Chu didn’t hesitate for a second—she gave up her opportunity to study abroad and stayed behind to take care of him wholeheartedly.
Lu Si had a volatile temper and had offended countless people left and right, and Nan Chu had gone around smiling and apologizing to each one of them.
She’d always thought Nan Chu would marry no one but Lu Si, and now she’d gone and gotten married without a word!
Jiang Hui subtly glanced at Lu Si, who was currently venting his anger at the doctor, and found she wasn’t even surprised.
Who could put up with Lu Si’s rotten temper? It served him right to get dumped.
Pulling her thoughts back, Jiang Hui said to Nan Chu, “Alright, congratulations on your marriage.”
“Thank you.”
Jiang Hui had just hung up when she sent Nan Chu a big red envelope. Only then did Lu Si stroll over slowly, his expression full of confidence.
“When is Nan Chu getting here? Have her bring me a coffee—one she makes herself. I can’t stand the coffee from outside.”
Jiang Hui really wanted to say, “Honey, Nan Chu is already married. Do you still think she’s your personal servant?”
But she remembered that Lu Si’s film was still in the middle of shooting, so she swallowed the words back down.
If Lu Si found out Nan Chu was married, he’d fly into a rage and walk off the set, and it would be the company that suffered.
At the very least, they had to wait until this script was finished shooting.
Jiang Hui shook her head. “She didn’t answer the phone. I heard from someone at her company that she sprained her ankle and took sick leave.”
Lu Si’s eyes shifted slightly, a flicker of panic in his heart.
Sick leave? She was sick?
But then, on second thought, he let out a mocking laugh.
“Sprained ankle? That’s just a game of playing hard to get. She wants me to lower myself and go coax her.”
“Just wait. In a few days, she’ll come running back to me like she always does.”
The derision in Lu Si’s eyes was too obvious, and Jiang Hui couldn’t stand to watch it. She couldn’t help but remind him.
“Ah Si, the heart is made of flesh. Don’t wait until Nan Chu doesn’t want you anymore before you regret it.”
Bang.
The chair in front of Jiang Hui was kicked over by Lu Si, startling her.
She was just about to ask what was wrong with this little tyrant now when she heard his voice, dark and menacing, each word deliberate.
“She wouldn’t dare.”
No one knew better than him how much Nan Chu loved him.
She couldn’t bear to part with him, and she would only ever love him, forever belonging to him alone.
For three consecutive days, Nan Chu didn’t see Shang Lin.
She saw online that Rongchuang Technology had acquired several tech companies, and its market value had multiplied several times over.
As the CEO of the company, Shang Lin was certainly very busy.
Coincidentally, inspiration for Nan Chu’s new composition came flooding in, and the equipment in the home music room wasn’t sufficient. Once her leave ended, she went back to work at the company.
The company was a two-hour drive from Qingshan Residence, and going back and forth was simply too exhausting.
One night, Nan Chu worked overtime at the company until ten o’clock. Feeling it was too late, she went straight back to her apartment at Jade Bay.
She made a point to send Shang Lin a message about it, and he didn’t object.
The next day, a colleague had a family emergency, so Nan Chu temporarily covered her night shift, and afterward, she simply slept at the apartment.
Because Nan Chu sent Shang Lin daily updates about her routine.
And Shang Lin, leaving early and returning late, never crossed paths with Nan Chu, so he kept assuming she was at home.
After enduring a week of this, Shang Lin finally left work on time.
On the way, he hit a red light, and his gaze fell on a cake shop at the street corner.
Remembering how on their wedding day, Nan Chu’s eyes had subtly drifted toward the little cakes, the corners of his lips lifted slightly.
“Pull over.”
An hour later, Shang Lin arrived home.
When he opened the door, he didn’t hear the familiar sound of the piano. He frowned slightly and asked the old butler.
“Where’s the missus?”
The old butler froze for a moment, a sense of dread rising within him.
So the madam had moved out without telling the master—he had assumed the two of them had already discussed it.
After a moment of silence, Shang Lin pressed his thin lips together and turned to walk out. The old butler, worried the young couple might quarrel, hurriedly followed.
“Sir, where are you going?”
“To bring her home.”