Shang Chi hadn't answered.
Mingzhuo wondered if he was too embarrassed.
She stepped forward, bent down, and reached out to place the bank card directly into his hand.
Her first attempt missed.
On the second try, her fingers brushed against his firm forearm.
Even through the thin fabric, the heat radiating from him was palpable.
Perhaps from pacing and tidying up, his warmth radiated so intensely it made her slightly cool fingertips flinch back.
Mingzhu pressed her lips together slightly, tracing the curve of his forearm downward. Her fingertips skimmed lightly over the shirt fabric until they finally reached Shang Chi's wrist.
Mingzhu's health was fragile; her hands and feet were perpetually cool, turning icy cold in winter.
Shang Chi was the complete opposite—a young, robust man whose body seemed to harbor a tiny, ever-burning sun, every part of him warm and firm.
She clearly intended to slip him the card.
Yet the way her fingers moved felt almost like teasing.
Especially with that faint, muffled chuckle brushing against her ear.
Ming Zhe felt a faint flush rise to her ears. Hastily, she pressed the card and the silver key into Shang Chi's palm, then quickly withdrew her hand and took a step back.
Shang Chi took the card, his gaze complex, his voice slightly deepened.
"Aren't you afraid I'll run off with your money?"
The second young master of Yueshen Group certainly wouldn't covet such a small sum, nor would he abscond with funds.
But how could Mingzhu be certain that "contractor Shang Chi" wouldn't?
Mingzhu blinked, her face bearing an unwavering certainty Shang Chi couldn't decipher.
She even curved her lips into a gentle smile.
Two small dimples appeared on her snow-white cheeks.
"He won't."
She spoke without hesitation, nodding unconsciously as if to emphasize, "You wouldn't."
Mingzhe thought.
The boy who had lifted her from the cold ground, shielded her against his chest, run all the way while bracing his arms to protect her from jostling, and kept murmuring reassurances like "You'll be fine"—the one who'd shouted for a doctor from afar.
His essence was bright and fiery.
He would never let her down.
"..."
Shang Chi sighed silently.
He couldn't fathom where Mingzhu's unwavering trust came from, attributing it only to her innocence and fervor—a girl so pure-hearted that her own kindness made her incapable of suspecting ill will in others.
A crystal-clear, untainted mind.
Fortunately, she had found him.
Meeting her bright, hopeful gaze, Shang Chi smiled wryly. With a flick of his fingers, he tucked the keys and bank card into his pocket.
"Alright, I'll take them."
"Since that's the case, I'll handle all household expenses from now on."
So what if it meant living off her?
Shang Chi could do it with his head held high, without a shred of shame.
Don't ask. Just say it's my wife's love.
-
Dinner was ordered from the same Chinese restaurant they'd visited together last time.
The food arrived piping hot, tasting as delicious as ever.
Mingzhuo was stuffed from being fed, holding the barley tea that came with the meal and sipping it slowly.
The warm, mellow tea touched her lips and teeth, leaving a faint, subtle sweetness.
Suddenly, she remembered the unresolved question from the car ride earlier that afternoon.
"Shang Chi?"
She called his name softly first, waiting for a response before asking her question with curiosity.
"You said earlier you had something to tell me. What was it? Can you tell me now?"
Shang Chi nearly choked on his barley tea.
He lifted his eyelids, his dark eyes meeting hers across the table.
Ming Zhe held the white porcelain cup with both hands, her pink fingertips lightly pressed against the rim as if straining to hear him more clearly. Her head tilted slightly, an unconsciously graceful curve forming.
Under the lamplight, her profile was as fair as jade, her light-colored eyes like a pair of translucent amber stones.
Her question was frank and curious.
When Shang Chi didn't respond for several seconds, her delicate brows furrowed slightly, and a soft, apologetic expression appeared on her face.
"Is it still not something you can talk about?"
Shang Chi: "No, I can tell you."
He took a sip of barley tea to moisten his throat. When he spoke again, his voice was low, slow, and magnetic, his tone steady and unhurried.
As if that had been his intention all along.
"I was wondering if you'd mind finding some time to come home with me for a meal. It would be a good chance to introduce you to my family."
Mingzhuo sat up straight without realizing it, whispering, "With Aunt He?"
Shang Chi chuckled softly, "And Manman's mom and dad too."
Meaning Shang Chi's older brother and sister-in-law.
So this was... meeting the parents.
Mingzhuo felt an uncontrollable surge of nervousness at the phrase, yet also found it strangely surreal.
Where had she and Shang Chi ever done something like this?
Acting first, asking questions later.
Getting married first, then meeting the parents.
This thought made Ming Zhuo feel uneasy. Her fingertips traced the rim of the white porcelain cup, and her speech became slightly stuttered.
"But, I... we got married before meeting..."
"It's okay."
Shang Chi seemed to know what she was nervous about, interrupting softly with a tone that carried a hint of gentle reassurance.
"My mom has always liked you. If she finds out we got married, she'll only blame me for not picking a better auspicious date."
He chuckled softly, the rising inflection lingering as it flowed into her ear.
"I'm the one marrying you. As long as I like it, that's all that matters."
"..."
I like it.
Those three words echoed like a sound effect, tumbling around in her mind.
Mingzhuo lifted her porcelain cup slightly, her lashes fluttering for a moment before she murmured softly, "Okay."
But the curve of her lips, impossible to suppress, had already betrayed her emotions like a kitten's tail swaying lightly.
...
Though he'd agreed to meet, year-end brought a flood of corporate affairs. Shang Heng's schedule for the next two months was nearly solid, with most of his time spent out of the province.
Shang Chi called his older brother to discuss the matter.
After some deliberation, they settled on Christmas Eve.
That left a month and a half.
Ming Zhuo breathed a quiet sigh of relief.
Even though the meeting was inevitable, stretching out the timeline created the illusion of having ample time to relax.
The worries of what came next could be left for her future self to fret over.
After clearing the table, Shang Chi grabbed a plastic bag, told Mingzhu he was heading out, and went downstairs to toss the trash.
The night was deep, but the main road of the residential complex was well-lit.
On his way back from dumping the garbage, Shang Chi spotted a security guard patrolling with a flashlight.
It was Uncle Wang, whom he'd met before.
The guard noticed him too, flicking the flashlight's beam downward.
"You're... Mingzhuo's friend, right?"
Uncle Wang approached, intending to give him a friendly pat on the shoulder. But as he drew near, he realized the man was tall and lanky—he had to tilt his head back to look at him. Embarrassed, he withdrew his hand.
"Good heavens, you must be nearly six feet tall, huh?"
Something flashed in his peripheral vision. Uncle Wang looked down.
At the base of the man's slender, jade-like fingers sat a dazzling ring, set with a vivid, translucent light green diamond.
It looked incredibly expensive.
Just last week, Uncle Wang's family had visited a jewelry store to look at rings. His daughter and son-in-law had ended up buying a 70-point diamond ring, spending nearly ten thousand yuan.
If this diamond was real, wouldn't it be worth over a hundred thousand?
And the style, the placement—it looked like a wedding ring.
Was Mingzhuo's friend already married?
Then staying at her place this late at night... that didn't seem quite right.
Uncle Wang had worked in this neighborhood for over a decade. It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say he'd watched Mingzhuo grow up.
The young girl was delicate and gentle, always greeting them softly whenever she passed by. Unconsciously, he'd developed a protective instinct toward her, much like he would toward his own daughter.
He couldn't help but frown, tentatively asking, "It's so late—you haven't gone back yet?"
Shang Chi wore a faint smile, his long lashes framing dark eyes, maintaining a polite and courteous demeanor.
"I'm not going back."
He said it matter-of-factly, "I married Xiao Zhuo. From now on, we'll be living here together."