“Why?” Zheng Miaomiao’s voice sounded cold, devoid of emotion.
“You don’t seem surprised at all that it’s me calling.” Qi Jin raised an eyebrow.
Zheng Miaomiao was speechless. What was she supposed to be surprised about? That he somehow had her number?
Based on her shallow understanding of him, he’d probably already dug up everything she’d eaten every day for the past two years.
These things were far too easy for him.
For two years, there had been no word from them at all, and she’d assumed they simply couldn’t be bothered to look for her. After all, if they had wanted to find her, it should have been easy enough.
She’d always believed they had moved on long ago, which was why she’d been so shocked to run into both Shen Xu and Qi Jin these past few days.
Thinking about it now, it would have been stranger if Qi Jin and the others hadn’t found her in the past two years.
Perhaps it was because she and Lin Qin’an had truly been moving too fast—leaving each city after only a short stay?
Zheng Miaomiao’s thoughts drifted idly, but she was in the middle of a phone call with an old fox, so she had no time to dwell on it and pushed the thought aside.
A low chuckle came through the phone, and the man sounded pleased.
“Looks like Miaomiao still remembers my number.”
And she hadn’t hung up either.
This number was only a temporary one he’d used when he came to Country A, one that was originally meant to be changed not long after. But during those two years when he couldn’t find Zheng Miaomiao, he kept thinking—what if Miaomiao still remembered this number and called him someday?
So the number had been kept until now, and it had already become his main personal number.
“What is it you want to say?” Zheng Miaomiao asked, her tone dripping with sarcasm.
“Nothing much. I just wanted to get in touch with you online. If you ever need anything, Sweetheart, you can call me.” Qi Jin seemed completely oblivious to her sarcasm, speaking in a gentle tone.
“I sent you a friend request on WeChat. Would you accept it, Sweetheart?”
During her first two years of wandering, Zheng Miaomiao, not wanting contact with her family, hadn’t even kept a regular number—she’d only used temporary local numbers in whichever country she was in.
Now that Zheng Miaomiao had finally returned home and settled down, Qi Jin was finally able to track down her contact information.
As he finished speaking, a friend request notification popped up, just as he said.
Zheng Miaomiao neither accepted nor declined. Instead, after a moment of silence, she suddenly asked, “Are you going to go after Lin Qin’an?”
She had been worried about this all night.
If she really meant that much to Qi Jin… no—even if she didn’t, even if Qi Jin only had some lingering interest in her,
then dealing with Lin Qin’an would be easier for him than crushing an ant.
She had spent a long time thinking about how to feel him out indirectly, but in the end, she chose to just ask outright, no games.
She didn’t know if Qi Jin would tell her the truth, but if he said “yes,” then it was a hundred percent certain.
On the other end of the line, Qi Jin’s movements paused.
After a while, he finally spoke, his voice laced with a low chuckle. “If I said I wouldn’t, would you believe me, Sweetheart?”
His voice was beautiful—his low laugh practically made ears tingle. But to Zheng Miaomiao, it only sent chills racing through her entire body.
What he meant was that he would absolutely go after Lin Qin’an. He couldn’t even be bothered to hide it from her.
Zheng Miaomiao’s lips turned pale. “…What would it take for you to spare him?”
“That depends on your choice, Sweetheart.”
In a cozy wooden study, under warm yellow lamplight, a man turned a hairpin over in his slender, jade-like fingers.
It was something Zheng Miaomiao had left behind without noticing, during their tender moments that evening.
Qi Jin hadn’t noticed it at first either, only spotting the hairpin later on the lounge chair.
It was shaped like a blue iris, exquisitely made, and matched the dress she’d worn today.
Qi Jin narrowed his eyes, thinking of the pink-and-blue tie-dye camisole she’d had on.
She was a little thinner than before, perhaps from running all over the world these past two years. But her flesh was still soft. The camisole was loose, and he could easily slide his hand from the strap to the warm, soft skin of her back—and once it was there, he hadn’t wanted to take it away.
Later, he’d worked her up to tears, her dress in disarray, her fair body covered in the red marks he’d left behind.
“What choice?”
He heard his darling speak on the other end of the phone, forcing herself to stay calm.
“Call off the engagement. Break up with him,” Qi Jin said flatly.
Poor little bird—she must be terrified right now.
He felt a pang of tenderness for his good girl, yet inside he felt an indescribable pleasure.
“Impossible!” The girl’s loud rebuttal came through the phone.
Her tone was resolute; she even seemed angry. But he could also hear the weakness and fear beneath her voice.
His Miaomiao was always like this—soft and timid. With anyone else, he would have found it laughable. He had always despised the weak, despised those who couldn’t protect the things they wanted to protect.
But in his Miaomiao, he only found the girl adorable—like a plump, tender glutinous rice ball that would burst with filling at the slightest poke.
“I was joking, darling.” He toyed with the hairpin and casually withdrew his earlier demand. “Why would I ever force you to do something you don’t want to do?”
Under the warm yellow light, the blue iris cast a hint of gem-like emerald green, yet a trace of darkness seeped into Qi Jin’s eyes.
He could never let his darling marry someone else. But he also knew it was impossible to demand that Zheng Miaomiao do it right away.
His good girl always yielded to gentleness but not to force, and blustered to hide her weakness. If he forced her to leave that worthless man now, she would surely rebel.
At best, he would end up becoming a catalyst for the feelings between her and that worthless man—the two of them would only fall more desperately in love.
He couldn’t afford such a losing deal.
Take it slow. He was going to get rid of that man sooner or later anyway, but there was no need to dirty his own hands and take the blame in Miaomiao’s eyes.
Zheng Miaomiao pressed her lips together.
She could hear the teasing and the malice in the man’s voice.
But she had no other options.
“Then what do you want?”
“Nothing much, darling, don’t be nervous.” He soothed the girl, his voice suddenly turning much gentler. “Just talk with me more, darling, and come see me often.”
“I couldn’t find you for over two years. I missed you so, so much…”
Zheng Miaomiao froze.
It was in that moment that she finally began to truly face Qi Jin’s feelings for her. Perhaps it wasn’t just an interest like one might have in a kitten or puppy, but something genuine, something deeper and heavier.
Because right now, his words carried so much longing—and so much lingering fear, fear of those two years when she had been gone from his sight.
…………
Eight o’clock.
Zheng Miaomiao shook her head. She had already hung up the phone, and now she found it laughable that she had been even more affected by what happened just now than Qi Jin.
She looked down at her body, covered in red marks, and thought of having to see Lin Qin’an tomorrow. Irritably, she grabbed at her hair.