Warm millet porridge with a sprinkle of sugar, a fried egg placed on a small plate—both were pushed toward Mingzhuo.
Shang Chi sat down at the table, watching her lower her lashes as she sipped the porridge in small, obedient sips. A smile touched his lips as he asked, "Any plans for today?"
"I'll probably go to Jingjing's studio," Mingzhu replied softly, adding, "Jingjing is my teacher's daughter."
Shang Chi acknowledged, "I know. I took my mother there last time."
Mingzhu lifted her head slightly.
"That was the day you taught Mannan. Though I didn't see you at the studio, I never imagined we'd meet by such a coincidence."
As if sensing her confusion, Shang Chi offered an explanation before Mingzhu could even voice her question.
Mingzhu gave a knowing nod, her fingertips pressing against the porcelain spoon. After a moment's thought, she returned the courtesy with a soft question: "So you're heading to work later?"
"Yes. My shift starts at 8:30 and ends at 5:30."
After stating his schedule, Shang Chi narrowed his dark eyes, a mischievous smile flickering across his lips.
He deliberately called out, "Xiao Zhu."
True to form, Mingzhu responded with a soft "Mm-hmm," lifting her head slightly, adopting a posture that suggested she was sitting up straight and listening intently.
She looked exceptionally well-behaved.
—Exceptionally tempting to tease.
Shang Chi's smile deepened as he leaned back slightly in his chair. His tone was casual, but the drawn-out inflection betrayed a hint of amusement.
"Since it's on my way, would you like your husband to drive you?"
"…"
Clang! Mingzhu hadn't gripped the porcelain spoon tightly enough, and it fell into the bowl, leaving only a thin layer of porridge at the bottom.
Her pale eyes widened completely, like a startled kitten. As if she hadn't heard clearly, her lips parted slightly: "...What?"
Shang Chi feigned ignorance: "Didn't catch that? I said, your husband will drive you home later."
Just as Shang Chi anticipated, the pale, emotionless face quickly flushed with a faint blush.
Her long, dark lashes fluttered like startled butterfly wings, half-concealing her round, almond-shaped eyes, the outer corners trailing a hint of crimson.
Mingzhuo couldn't see her own expression, unaware that her face betrayed her feelings completely.
She hastily grabbed the porcelain spoon again, stirred the bowl's contents, then picked up a piece of fried egg and took a bite.
She seemed busy, though it was unclear what she was occupied with.
After finishing her flurry of small movements, she felt she had calmed down from the shock of that title.
Only then did she reply slowly, "...Okay."
O-k-a-y.
The trailing syllable skipped lightly.
The owner, sensing this, pressed her lips tightly together in a futile attempt to suppress it.
"..."
Shang Chi fought back laughter with every ounce of restraint.
He cleared his throat softly, his eyes crinkling with amusement though his voice remained steady and reassuring.
"Alright, I'll pick you up after work and we'll go to the supermarket. What do you feel like eating tonight?"
Just hearing his voice, it sounded nothing but gentle and considerate.
Mingzhu didn't suspect a thing, not for a moment. She didn't think Shang Chi was teasing her on purpose. She smiled, revealing a pair of dimples.
"I'm not picky. I'll eat anything."
Shang Chi: "Well, Xiao Zhu must have things she likes and things she's just okay with. You can tell me about those too. Of course, there's no rush. You have a whole day to think about it."
"Just send me a WeChat when you decide. Anytime is fine."
Mingzhu finished the last bit of millet porridge, her eyes crinkling as she nodded firmly.
Shang Chi took the bowl and chopsticks to wash them.
Returning to the master bedroom, Mingzhu opened the wardrobe. Instead of the soft hoodie hanging inside, her hand brushed against a coarse, short-pile fabric.
...It was the coat Shang Chi had hung up yesterday.
He'd also mentioned going grocery shopping together that evening.
Her fingers, suspended mid-air, waved slightly before shifting direction. They passed over the sweatshirt and reached for a rarely worn skirt.
-
At eight in the morning, Qi Kejing yawned as she entered the studio.
The receptionist had arrived minutes earlier, diligently switching on all the lights and opening the practice room window for ventilation.
Now emerging from the practice room, she lifted her face and greeted her boss with boundless energy.
"Good morning, boss!"
Qi Kejing slumped lifelessly onto the bench by the door, her voice barely audible. "Good morning, little busy bee."
"Boss, have you had breakfast? Want a piece of my purple rice cake?" the young girl offered enthusiastically.
Qi Kejing waved her hand.
"You keep it. Xiao Zhu just told me she'd be coming, so I asked her to bring me breakfast."
The front desk girl paused mid-bite on her purple rice cake.
No matter how many times she heard it or saw Qi Kejing's calm expression, she couldn't help but think: Asking Mingzhu, who had limited mobility, to bring breakfast... it truly echoed those words from the writer who guarded the goal in a wheelchair—
He didn't treat me like a disabled person, nor did he treat me like a human being.
Qi Kejing slumped for a while, enduring that most dreaded pre-work mood, before finally coaxing herself to rise and head to the inner office to tie up her hair.
The front desk girl finished her breakfast, crumpling the plastic bag into a ball, and looked up.
A sleek, dark gray SUV pulled up to the curb by the entrance.
She didn't think much of it, bent down to toss the trash, then looked up again.
The passenger door swung open. A figure stepped out, unfurling a familiar-looking white cane that tapped lightly on the pavement.
Instead of hurrying off, the person exchanged a few words with someone still inside the car.
Only then did they close the door and walk toward the studio.
One glance—familiar.
Another glance—strikingly familiar.
The receptionist jumped up abruptly, calling loudly for the boss: "Boss, boss, boss! Sister Xiao Zhuo is here!"
Qi Kejing's voice came from afar: "Got it. Have her leave breakfast at the door..."
Receptionist: "But boss, Sister Xiao Zhuo was brought here by a guy! They were holding hands and saying goodbye!"
Qi Kejing: "?"
Qi Kejing, hair disheveled and a comb still clutched in her hand, rushed out.
Unfortunately, she was a step too late. The SUV had already driven off, leaving only a silhouette visible as it rounded the corner.
But her gaze swept across the street and locked onto Ming Zhu, who was walking slowly toward her.
After Mingzhu lost her sight, Qi Lan initially selected and bought her clothes. Later, as Qi Kejing grew up, she volunteered to take over this task.
Mingzhu had a small face with delicate features and a great figure—she looked good in anything.
When Qi Kejing was in charge, she went on a shopping spree, stuffing over a dozen dresses into Mingzhuo's wardrobe in one go.
But unless it was for a performance or a Qi family holiday banquet, Mingzhuo rarely wore them.
Yet today! On such an ordinary day!
Mingzhu wore the dress Qi Kejing bought her last month.
A warm apricot-colored Peter Pan collar blouse paired with a light brown corduroy vest dress. A little bear clutching a honey jar was embroidered on the chest, and a bow tied at the back waist.
Sweet and demure.
Damn, something's definitely up!
Mingzhe was still smiling.
Dimples played softly on her cheeks, her amber eyes glistening in the daylight like pools of liquid honey.
Qi Kejing clung desperately to the door, shooting a glance back at the front desk.
The receptionist nodded solemnly, giving an OK sign.
By the time Mingzhu composed herself and stepped inside with light footsteps, her lips parted—but before she could utter "Jingjing"...
Two swishing sounds swept past her.
The glass door slammed shut, the bell jingling incessantly.
The breakfast she held was snatched from her hands and tossed carelessly onto the table, the plastic bag making a sharp crack.
Mingzhe: "?"
A hand suddenly landed on her shoulder, and Qi Kejing's haunting voice whispered in her ear.
"Who was that stinky guy who dropped you off today?"
"Dressed up so nice—going on a date with him?"
Ming Zhe: "..."
She suddenly recalled changing clothes before leaving that morning, feeling both anxious and annoyed, wondering if she'd overdressed.
After getting in the car, Shang Chi didn't rush to the driver's seat. Instead, he leaned in close, pulled the seatbelt over to her, and fastened it for her.
His faint, crisp scent washed over her, enveloping her completely.
As he withdrew his hand, his fingertip gently pinched her earlobe.
"You look beautiful," he murmured with a low laugh. "Our little Zhu is so beautiful."
Ming Zhuo shrank back, feeling her face flush.
"..."
Under the watchful eyes of Qi Kejing and the front desk girl flanking her, Ming Zhuo raised her hand to brush her cheek. Her almond eyes widened in embarrassment and shyness as she whispered, "Do I really look that good?"
Qi Kejing: "Huh?"
Mingzhu lowered her hand, feeling an unusual flutter of nervousness as she gathered her thoughts.
She licked her lips, though unseen, and shifted her gaze away guiltily.
"He... he's Aunt He's son."
Qi Kejing relaxed slightly. "So it's him..."
Her hand, hanging at her side, was gently grasped and tugged in a flattering gesture.
Ming Zhe gave a shy smile, her voice growing even softer.
"Jingjing, actually... he's also my newlywed husband."
Qi Kejing: "Oh, so he's your husband..."
Qi Kejing: "What the hell???"
Qi Kejing: "Ming Xiaozhu, say that again!!!"