The dining table was set beneath the large locust tree, with seven bamboo chairs arranged in a circle.
All the dishes had been laid out—Zhou Yichen’s stir-fried cured pork with tofu; the chicken soup and tomato scrambled eggs made by Liu Yinuo and Shen Ci; the fish soup and steamed egg custard prepared by Jiang Nian and Zhao Muyan; Su Qinghe’s Di San Xian; Shen Ci’s stir-fried greens; Lu Zhiheng’s minced pork with eggplant; and Zhou Yichen’s warm goat milk as dessert.
The table was filled to the brim.
Zhou Yichen swallowed. “This is incredible!”
Liu Yinuo laughed at him. “You contributed the most.”
Zhou Yichen looked proud. “Of course.”
Everyone took their seats.
Su Qinghe was about to find a place to sit when Liu Yinuo suddenly pulled her over. “Sit here.”
Before she could react, she was already pressed into a chair.
The seat on her left was empty, while Liu Yinuo sat on her right.
Then Lu Zhiheng walked over and, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, sat down on her left.
Su Qinghe: “…”
She turned to look at Liu Yinuo, who calmly began sipping her soup with an innocent expression.
At that moment, Jiang Nian came over with her bowl, glanced at the remaining seat beside Lu Zhiheng, paused for a second, then smiled and sat down.
Even someone as slow to notice as Su Qinghe could feel the awkwardness.
She lowered her head and quietly started eating.
The chicken soup was placed slightly to Lu Zhiheng’s right, too far for Su Qinghe to reach while seated.
She glanced at the pot, then at her empty bowl, hesitating.
If she stood up to serve herself, it might draw attention, and she did not want to steal any screen time. But if she did not, she genuinely wanted to drink it.
Just as she reached out for the ladle—
A hand extended from beside her and picked up her bowl.
Su Qinghe turned her head.
Lu Zhiheng, expressionless, took her bowl, filled it to the brim with soup, and set it back in front of her.
His movements were so natural, as though he had done it a hundred times before.
She froze for a moment. “…Thank you.”
He gave a quiet “Mm” and continued eating.
Su Qinghe lowered her head and drank the soup, pretending nothing had happened.
But Jiang Nian, sitting beside them, paused slightly with her chopsticks.
She glanced at Lu Zhiheng, then at Su Qinghe, something flickering briefly in her eyes.
So natural, so effortless, as if he had done it countless times.
Weren’t they supposed to be unfamiliar with each other?
Then Jiang Nian lowered her head again, smiling gently as though nothing had happened.
As Su Qinghe sipped her soup, her thoughts grew complicated.
What was with this man?
He was the heir, raised to be courteous and well-mannered. Anyone sitting in that position would probably have received the same treatment.
She comforted herself with that reasoning.
After the meal, everyone helped clear the table.
Zhou Yichen was especially enthusiastic. “I’ll wash the dishes! I traded for the most ingredients, so I should do more!”
Liu Yinuo laughed. “Look at you being so self-aware for once.”
Zhou Yichen grinned. “Of course, I’ve grown.”
Everyone laughed as they dispersed.
Su Qinghe stood up as well, preparing to head back to her room.
After taking a couple of steps, a sharp pain suddenly shot through her ankle.
She paused and looked down.
She must have twisted it when she fell earlier that afternoon. She had not noticed at the time, but now the pain was starting to set in.
It did not seem too serious, though. A night’s rest should be enough.
She was about to keep walking—
“Wait.” Lu Zhiheng’s voice came from behind her.
She turned around.
He stood a couple of steps away, looking at her. “Come with me.”
She blinked. “Huh?”
Without explaining, he turned and walked toward the living room.
Su Qinghe hesitated for a second, then followed.
[Living Room • Sofa]
The living room was on the first floor of the main house, furnished with an old-fashioned wooden sofa covered with cotton-linen cushions. A few books and a potted plant sat on the coffee table, and an antique cabinet stood in the corner.
Lu Zhiheng walked to the cabinet, opened it, and took out a white medical kit.
Su Qinghe was startled.
A medical kit? How did he know there was one here?
He placed it on the table, opened it, rummaged through briefly, and took out a tube of ointment and a pack of cotton swabs.
Then he looked up at her and pointed to the sofa.
“Sit.”
She did not move. “What for?”
“Your foot.”
She looked down at her foot, then back at him. “It’s fine.”
He said nothing, but his gaze clearly conveyed disbelief.
Under that look, she felt a little guilty and reluctantly walked over to sit on the sofa.
Lu Zhiheng crouched in front of her and reached for her sock.
Startled, she quickly pulled back. “No, no, no, I can do it myself!”
He ignored her, firmly holding her calf and pulling her foot toward him, already gripping the edge of her sock with his other hand.
She struggled slightly but could not break free.
He was surprisingly strong.
The sock was pulled halfway off, revealing her pale ankle.
It was indeed slightly red and swollen, not severe, but clearly sprained.
Lu Zhiheng frowned faintly.
He squeezed a bit of ointment onto his hand, then held her ankle and began to massage it.
Su Qinghe froze completely. What was he doing?
He was massaging her foot?
Lu Zhiheng? The heir of Beijing’s elite circle? The untouchable man who usually could not be bothered to spare her a glance?
Massaging her foot?
Her mind went blank as she stared at the man crouched before her.
His hands were large, his palms warm, and his pressure firm yet controlled. It hurt a little where he pressed, but more than that, it felt… relieving.
She suddenly realized his technique was not random. He actually knew what he was doing.
“Do you… know about massage?” she asked.
Without looking up, he replied, “A little.”
“Why did you learn it?”
“My elders taught me.”
She made a soft sound of acknowledgment, unsure what else to say.
A few minutes passed in silence.
The living room was quiet, broken only by the occasional chirping of insects outside.
Lu Zhiheng kept his head lowered, focused on her ankle, his movements as serious as if he were handling an important task.
Watching him, Su Qinghe felt a little dazed.
From this angle, she could see his profile—his high nose bridge, sharp jawline, and the faint shadow of his lashes on his lower eyelids.
She remembered his smile from earlier that afternoon.
It had to be said, he was truly handsome.
No wonder he was the male lead. No wonder the original host had gone mad over him.
If she were a few years younger, she might have been tempted too.
But she was twenty-nine now. She had seen enough of the world not to be swayed by a pretty face.
She would not be. Probably not.
As she was thinking this, Lu Zhiheng suddenly looked up.
Their eyes met.
She immediately averted her gaze, pretending to study the painting on the wall.
He said nothing and lowered his head again, continuing the massage.
But the corner of his lips curved slightly.
After a while, he finally stopped, screwed the cap back onto the ointment, and returned it to the medical kit.
“Massage it again tomorrow.”
She nodded. “Okay.”
She looked down at her ankle. The swelling had gone down a little, and it did not hurt as much anymore.
Looking up at him, she said sincerely, “Thank you.”
Lu Zhiheng stood, put the medical kit back into the cabinet, and spoke calmly with his back to her.
“Watch where you’re walking next time.”
Su Qinghe: “…”
Why did that sound so familiar?
After pulling her sock back on, she pinched her cheek.
It hurt. So it was not a dream.
Covering her face, she sat there for two seconds before standing up and taking a deep breath.
But nothing would change.
She was just… appreciating a handsome man in a perfectly normal way.
Yes, that was all.
She pushed open the door and walked outside.
In the courtyard, Zhou Yichen called out, “Sister Qinghe! Want some goat milk? I’ll heat you a bowl!”
She forced a smile. “Sure, thanks.”
She walked over, took the goat milk, and sat on a bamboo chair, sipping it slowly.
But her mind was filled with what had just happened.
His hands. His profile. His smile. His words.
It seemed like… he did not dislike her as much anymore.
[Liu Yinuo’s Room]
Liu Yinuo lay against the bed, scrolling through her phone.
Su Qinghe knocked and entered, sitting at the edge of the bed.
Liu Yinuo glanced at her. “What happened to your foot?”
Su Qinghe froze. “How did you know?”
Liu Yinuo smiled. “Lu Zhiheng went looking for the medical kit just now, so I asked. He said someone sprained their ankle.”
Su Qinghe fell silent.
Liu Yinuo looked at her meaningfully. “He massaged it for you?”
“…Mm.”
Liu Yinuo smiled. “Not bad.”
“Not bad, how?”
She did not answer, simply smiling as she continued scrolling on her phone.
Su Qinghe sat there, her thoughts in disarray.
But she refused to admit it.