After Shang Chi went downstairs, Mingzhuo stood in the living room for a moment, unsure what to do.
At this hour, she would normally either be holed up in the piano room practicing or already in bed after her shower.
But today, a second person had suddenly moved into this modest apartment.
Shang Chi had only been here a few hours.
Yet Mingzhuo felt as if even the air had taken on his faint, crisp scent.
It made her restless.
If not for the marriage certificate, warm from his body heat, slipping into her palm, everything felt like a grand, dreamlike illusion.
...She wouldn't dare dream this even in her wildest dreams.
Mingzhu walked back to the master bedroom and carefully placed the marriage certificate from her skirt pocket into the bedside table drawer.
Not hearing Shang Chi return, she stopped waiting and pulled her makeup remover from her bag.
She planned to shower quickly, freeing up the bathroom for him.
Mingzhu rarely wore makeup. Only occasionally, when accompanying Qi Lan to performances, would her teacher apply a light layer of foundation and lipstick to enhance her complexion—using Qi Lan's cosmetics and makeup remover.
This jar of makeup remover, like the little white dress she wore, had been enthusiastically promoted by the professional styling studio staff and then bought by Shang Chi.
Ming Zhu scooped some of the cream into her palm, recalling Shang Chi's decisive attitude when he'd paid without even asking the price.
She couldn't help but sigh.
Her earlier impression had been right after all.
Shang Chi was the type who never hesitated to spend money.
...Later, she'd ask her teacher if there were any part-time gigs available for performances.
After all, she had to support Shang Chi.
She really needed to work harder.
The faucet turned on, its rushing water drowned out the sound of the door opening outside.
Mingzhu cupped water in her hands, rinsed her face clean, then straightened up and turned off the tap.
Knock knock.
The bathroom door was knocked.
Mingzhu instinctively turned toward the sound.
"It's me," Shang Chi spoke first, "I'm back. Just letting you know."
"...Should I close the door for you?"
Mingzhu paused, slowly processing Shang Chi's implication before her cheeks flushed.
"Go... ahead," she murmured softly, droplets clinging to her thick lashes trembling off with each blink. "I'm used to being alone..."
Opening and closing doors only increased her chances of bumping into things.
Mingzhu usually left her door open. After all, she lived alone, and the living room curtains were almost always drawn—no one would see her.
But now, she was married to Shang Chi.
There was someone else in the house.
She should be more careful.
Mingzhu raised her hand to wipe the droplets from her chin. She heard Shang Chi reply, "Okay," but no sound of the door closing.
The man murmured softly again, "Wait a moment."
Mingzhe stood before the sink, blinking in confusion, when a cool breath drifted toward her. Warm fingertips lightly touched the corner of her mouth.
"Here," Shang Chi pointed out, "Your lipstick isn't completely washed off."
"..." Mingzhe's eyelashes fluttered even more violently. "Oh, okay. I'll... I'll wash it again..."
Shang Chi chuckled softly.
"Let me help you."
His slightly hoarse voice inadvertently revealed the dominant control hidden beneath his gentle exterior. Yet, as if afraid of startling a timid little bird, he paused for a few seconds before adding a feigned request, making his intent all the more obvious.
"I washed my hands after coming back. Is that okay?"
Mingzhu's breath caught slightly: "...Yes."
The lid of the makeup remover jar was unscrewed. Using the small spoon provided, he scooped out a tiny amount and placed it in his palm.
His palms ran slightly warm. Merely cupping them together and rubbing lightly twice softened the cream into a pool.
Shang Chi flicked his finger, lifting his eyelids to gaze forward.
Ming Zhe leaned her waist against the sink, hands braced behind her to steady herself in this posture.
Yet she unconsciously lifted her chest slightly, offering that jasmine blossom to the man's gaze.
Shang Chi's Adam's apple bobbed slightly. He politely raised his eyes and applied the softened cream to the corner of her lips, where a faint blush had appeared.
Before Ming Zhe could wipe her face, fine droplets of water rolled down the curve of her cheeks.
Her pale face was damp and cool, soft as milk curd, offering an exquisite feel beneath the touch.
As his fingers pressed and smoothed, her full lower lip parted slightly, revealing snow-white, even teeth and the deeper crimson tip of her tongue.
"..."
Shang Chi blinked slowly, scooping up another dab of softening cream and spreading it along her lip line.
A droplet suspended at her chin swayed precariously, finally saturated with moisture before plopping down.
It landed on the snow-white chest.
It slightly dampened the wedding ring, then slowly trickled down the undulating chest, dragging a moist trail behind it.
"...That's enough."
Shang Chi hastily withdrew his hand, his voice forced into calmness. "Continue washing. I'll step out now."
The bathroom door closed, the latch clicking into place.
Mingzhu could no longer support her trembling back, collapsing limply as she gasped for breath.
Perhaps it was the weight of secrets.
Each time Shang Chi approached with casual indifference, it felt to her like calm seas suddenly churning into violent waves.
Her vision plunged into darkness, yet her other senses sharpened to extraordinary acuity.
Between breaths, she caught the faint scent of a rain-soaked forest on his skin. His warm fingertips brushed her lips, like kindling a fiery spark on her cool skin.
Shang Chi leaned in close, likely to help apply makeup remover.
Her calf, which she'd shifted nervously, brushed lightly against his slightly cool suit pants.
Ming Zhe froze, unable to move.
Shang Chi, whether intentionally or not, drew his foot back, almost trapping her leg between his own.
In that moment, his breath suddenly drew closer.
Ming Zhe held her own breath, caught in the illusion that... he was about to kiss her.
It was an illusion, indeed.
Shang Chi quickly pulled away, gently removing his hand. After applying the makeup remover, he left.
Purely helpful.
It was her own overactive imagination, always reading into Shang Chi's ordinary actions as something suggestive.
Ming Zhe drew a shallow breath, turned, scooped up a handful of cold water, and splashed it on her face.
The cold water cooled her down.
It could also calm her chaotic mind.
-
After showering and changing into her pajamas, Ming Zhe opened the door and stepped out.
"Shang Chi?"
Towel in hand, she called softly as she walked toward the balcony.
"I'm done showering. You can use the bathroom anytime after..."
"...Got it. Stop lecturing. I'll explain when I get back."
Mingzhu paused, hearing a deep male voice coming from the balcony—probably on the phone.
Not wanting to interrupt or eavesdrop, she turned to leave.
"Block my door?"
Shang Chi chuckled softly, his tone not the slightly softened one he used with her. The rising inflection at the end, paired with a short, light snort, was utterly arrogant.
"I'm staying at my wife's place. Where exactly are you going to block me?"
"In your dreams."
Ming Zhu: "…?"
Where did this arrogant guy come from?