Chapter 13

After entering the elevator, Su Yao felt a bit regretful.

Because she felt it was a bit pitiful for Liang Chuyuan to eat instant noodles alone. When she invited him to eat hot pot at her place, she forgot about it. Her fifty-square-meter small apartment was a mess.

Hasn’t she cleaned it up in the past week? Did she remember to take out the trash yesterday? Are the blankets on the bed not folded? There’s still half a cup of tea on the table…

The more she thought about it, the scarier it got.

Seeing the elevator numbers steadily rise, Su Yao quickly grabbed Liang Chuyuan’s hand, “Um, how about we go to your place to eat?”

Su Yao was wearing five-centimeter high heels, but Liang Chuyuan still towered over her. When he lowered his eyes, his long and dense eyelashes could cover half of his thoughts.

He glanced at Su Yao holding his hand, wondering what was going on.

“My place is very small, it might be a bit cramped for two people,” Liang Chuyuan seemed to think of something. He closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, Su Yao only heard him say: “I’ll only take up one seat of space.”

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…….

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“Do you need any help?” Liang Chuyuan asked.

“Huh?” Su Yao was taken aback. “Sure, you can help with washing the vegetables.”

There’s always something to do rather than just sitting idly.

The sound of water flowed softly. Su Yao naturally took the washed Tong Hao from Liang Chuyuan’s hand, as if she had experienced it countless times before, quietly and tacitly.

So much so that halfway through the task, Su Yao was lost in thought for a moment.

Liang Chuyuan was the first man to enter her apartment. She didn’t know why she trusted him so much, even felt so close to him.

They had only known each other for less than two months, and they hadn’t met many times. Many times, their encounters were attributed to coincidences. If Su Yao could read minds with her eyes, if Su Yao bumped into him three times in a day, if Su Yao met him at the art exhibition… the most recent example was just now, they met at the supermarket.

It’s as if there was a thread connecting them, pulling them closer together, creating countless coincidences between them.

“Do we need to put this dish on a plate?” Liang Chuyuan asked.

“…No need, we can just put everything on the table and eat,” Su Yao returned to reality.

Having a meal with Liang Chuyuan was very comforting.

From his eyes, Su Yao could see his evaluation of each dish, whether it was good or bad, particularly genuine. Coupled with his face, even his admiration for the shrimp paste seemed especially cute.

After finishing their meal, Su Yao suggested going for a walk to aid digestion, and Liang Chuyuan readily agreed.

“Last time, I promised to take you to my studio. How about we drop by there later?” he suggested.

“Sure.”

The studio was very close to the western area of Biya Bay. Just go out through the small door, and take a turn, and you’re there.

Liang Chuyuan said he rented half a floor in a high-end office building for occasional leisure activities at the studio. He mentioned he wasn’t that extravagant; it was a gesture from his brother.

Su Yao couldn’t help but be curious about his brother.

“You two brothers have such a good relationship. As an only child, I always envied kids who had siblings to keep them company.”

“In fact, we haven’t lived together much. Maybe not even for a year in total. If he didn’t frequently fly to France to see me, I guess…”

The voice in her ear abruptly stopped, and Su Yao looked at Liang Chuyuan, who seemed lost in thought. “Guess what?” she asked.

Liang Chuyuan looked back at her. “Nothing. We’re here.”

“Ah, okay.”

The studio was different from what Su Yao had imagined; it wasn’t cramped at all. Besides the dozen or so paintings hanging on the walls, the easels by the window, and the tables covered with drawing paper, the rest of the space hadn’t been arranged yet and appeared quite spacious.

Liang Chuyuan brought her a chair, explaining that he hadn’t had much time to rearrange things since returning from abroad.

“Are those all your works on the wall?” Su Yao asked.

Liang Chuyuan nodded.

“Bold use of colors,” Su Yao remarked to herself.

Perhaps one’s personality and artistic style could indeed be quite different. Liang Chuyuan left an impression of gentleness and restraint, like a calm lake—vast and steady. But his paintings were different, bold to the extreme in their colors, yet Su Yao sensed a hint of suppression.

“Don’t you like them?” Liang Chuyuan asked.

“I do,” Su Yao smiled. “I’m just a bit superficial; I just feel like that wall looks very expensive.”

Liang Chuyuan chuckled, then pointed to the floor-to-ceiling window, saying that the view from there on rainy days was beautiful.

But there were rarely rainy seasons in Wen Cheng.

“It seems I’ll have to wait for a rainy day to come back again,” Su Yao said, her gaze stopping on a piece of paper on the floor. “Was that accidentally dropped?”

The floor was very clean, with only that piece of paper stuck in the corner, looking out of place.

Before Liang Chuyuan could look over, Su Yao had already walked over to pick it up.

A pair of eyes.

A strange feeling surged in Su Yao’s heart as she looked at those eyes, feeling strangely familiar.

Liang Chuyuan took the paper.

“It’s you.”