Wen Qiao rested her chin leisurely on her hand, her brows curved, her smile sweet.
Her voice was soft and delicate.
“Brother Yanchen, am I pretty?”
With such a stunning face, if she smiled, she could easily capture a man’s gaze.
Few could resist her teasing.
Wen Qiao had always been well aware of her beauty.
Rarely did she have time alone, uninterrupted.
So why not radiate her damn charm?
She refused to believe he wouldn’t be moved.
Lu Yanchen’s gaze landed on her eyes.
The bright firelight in the room flickered in her glossy pupils; her mischievous eyes sparkled with life.
Her skin was like jade, her long hair cascaded like a waterfall, and a faint, fresh fragrance wafted to his nose.
Lu Yanchen turned his head slightly, chin lowered.
His dark eyes met hers directly.
Hearing that intimate address, the faintest twitch of his brow betrayed a subtle, inexplicable feeling.
His gaze was intense, and his cold, restrained aura was especially enticing.
They stared at each other for only a few seconds, yet the man calmly withdrew his eyes.
He ignored Wen Qiao’s flirtation.
His voice was cool.
“We aren’t close. Please call me Comrade Lu.”
Wen Qiao: ……
An unromantic man.
For the first time, she doubted her own beauty. Was it possible she wasn’t pretty enough?
Impossible.
Her beauty was recognized throughout the school—pure, natural, and harmless.
Although she had striking features, her looks were neither aggressive nor tawdry.
Her high-class face combined purity and brightness, capable of being both sultry and sweet.
So why did it all fail on the male lead?
It shouldn’t have.
Could it be that the male lead preferred the bland, unassuming type like Shen Yueru?
Other than that, there was no explanation.
Since waking up, Lu Yanchen had never looked at her properly.
He was completely immune to her beauty.
Flirtation failed once again.
Fine, she’d switch the topic.
“So, which unit are you in? What position do you hold?”
Wen Qiao only knew the male lead was in the Yangcheng Military District; beyond that, she had no clue.
Judging by his uniform, he should be at least at the battalion level.
Lu Yanchen’s expression sharpened at her question; a commanding aura pressed down on her instantly.
His face turned cold, his gaze piercing.
His voice was stern.
“The unit number is classified. No comment.”
The intense pressure made Wen Qiao’s heart skip a beat.
She was just asking about his personal situation.
Why so serious?
And that gaze—
He looked at her like she was a spy.
Ridiculous. She was as upright and honest as they came.
The Shen family was a well-known military lineage.
Even her adoptive parents came from eight generations of poor farmers—never rich a day in their lives.
How could she be a spy?
Could they even continue talking today?
Fine, she’d drop it.
Asking about family should be safe enough.
“So, where is your family from?”
“Who’s in your family?”
“You look pretty young. How old are you this year?”
Lu Yanchen glanced at her.
“Why are you asking these questions?”
“Just curious!”
He shot her another cold glance.
“You’re just a sent-down youth, why do you keep prying into a soldier’s life? What’s your goal?”
Wen Qiao nearly exploded in frustration.
What had she done to make him so suspicious?
He insisted on imagining her as a spy.
No chance to continue the conversation.
Gritting her teeth, she glared at him indignantly.
“I have no ulterior motive! I just want to know more about you. Why are you so fierce?”
Lu Yanchen tilted his head and observed her.
In her watery eyes, there seemed to be a flicker of anger; her little face puffed up, her whole being lively and vivid.
Not like before, when her face wore a mask and her smile was fake.
Lu Yanchen lowered his gaze, instantly suppressing the sharp aura around him.
In a deep voice, he said:
“Sorry.”
His emotionless tone sounded light amid the clattering wind and rain.
Wen Qiao pressed down her anger.
She endured it.
In the dilapidated wooden hut, amid the bright firelight, the man sat upright on a worn stool.
Broad shoulders, narrow waist, the uniform collar fastened meticulously, made his handsome features appear even more cold and noble.
Watching him, Wen Qiao’s anger quietly dissipated.
No wonder everyone wanted a handsome boyfriend.
It really helped soothe the heart.
Even the biggest irritation vanished instantly at a glance at his refined face.
If that didn’t work, she could just look a few more times.
Still, Wen Qiao felt something was off.
Though she couldn’t remember the male lead’s name, she still recalled his persona.
Let’s be honest—the male lead’s behavior had nothing to do with being gentle or considerate.
From the first meeting, his expression had been cold and indifferent.
And the “soft as jade” stuff?
Forget it!
Shen Yueru must have been taught by the gym teacher for language arts.
Wen Qiao glanced at him sideways, noticing he stared straight ahead, tending the fire without a flicker of reaction.
A great beauty sat beside him, yet he acted as if she were a lifeless utility pole.
Wen Qiao sneaked closer, arms crossed, body shivering slightly.
Her expression was exaggerated.
“So cold…”
The man added two dry sticks to the fire, not glancing at her once.
Seeing his indifference, Wen Qiao cursed inwardly.
Wooden head!
Idiot!
Did he not know what it meant to cherish a beauty?
She had made her signals so obvious—any man with a hint of charm would have taken off his coat to cover her.
Wen Qiao clenched her teeth and leaned closer, shoulders shaking, practically collapsing onto him.
Before she could reach him, Lu Yanchen suddenly stood.
He stepped back a long distance.
“There’s a quilt on the bed. If you’re cold, go lie down.”
Under the bright firelight, his face was cold, lips tightly pressed, studying her with an unreadable expression.
For a moment, Wen Qiao felt as if he saw through her clumsy act.
But at this point, she could only continue the performance.
Wen Qiao nearly exploded in anger.
She could only shiver, arms wrapped around herself, trembling as she climbed onto the bed, yanking the thin quilt over her head.
The quilt faintly carried the scent of his hormones, leaving her both flustered and somewhat discouraged.
Infuriating.
She had never met such a difficult man!
Completely immune to flirting.
Her Wen Qiao charm—when did it become so useless?
She had lived twenty years and never experienced consecutive failures like this.
When had Wen Qiao ever suffered setbacks in love?
Others had always been obsessed with her, crazy for her, clashing headlong into walls for her.
Wen Qiao hid under the quilt, pondering.
Could it be that he didn’t respond to women taking the initiative?
Did he prefer the shy, blushing, coy type—the one who pretends to resist but secretly welcomes it?
Thinking this, it actually seemed plausible.
After all, the female lead, Shen Yueru, was exactly that type.
Always pretending to be weak and innocent, winning all sorts of men’s favor.
Men would orbit around her, delighted.
Not only dramatic, but pretending to be pure.
Wen Qiao pictured herself like that… she nearly vomited from disgust.
No!
She simply couldn’t act like that.