Chapter Fifty: You Still Want There to Be a Next Time

Today, the one driving was Ge Xingjing. He sat obediently in the driver’s seat, steering the car along for a while. When they stopped at a red light, he glanced at Shen Tingxiao through the rearview mirror.

“If you have something to say, just say it,” Shen Tingxiao said, having already noticed his gaze.

Ge Xingjing asked with some confusion, “Mr. Shen, since you said Miss Jiang saved you when you were young, why don’t you just tell her directly? And why not confess your feelings to her?”

To him, matters of the heart were that simple—just speak up and be done with it.

But Shen Tingxiao averted his gaze, only holding Jiang Yunzhu tighter in his arms. “Should I reveal my identity to her, confess my feelings, and then watch her find a reason to turn me down? Or worse, make her think I’m trying to get close to her because of what happened in the past?”

He didn’t want Jiang Yunzhu to believe his feelings were anything but pure.

Ge Xingjing understood, shaking his head slightly to himself. Love really did make people sentimental.

As for him, he simply couldn’t see what there was to be so sensitive about.

But thinking it over, it made sense. If Jiang Yunzhu learned that Shen Tingxiao was that boy from back then, she might think he was only being nice to her out of gratitude.

Mr. Shen just wished the feelings between them could be a little purer.

Besides, Mr. Shen had been in such a sorry state back then—he probably didn’t want to remember those obscure, difficult days himself, let alone meet someone he liked while burdened by such an unspeakable past.

The car arrived at the hotel.

Shen Tingxiao carried Jiang Yunzhu all the way back to their room in his arms.

He bent down to lay her gently on the bed, but before he could straighten up, Jiang Yunzhu wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, murmuring softly, “Stay with me... sleep.”

Ever since returning from home, Jiang Yunzhu had picked up a habit in her sleep—she always needed to hold onto something.

At home, she had a huge stuffed toy.

But since it wasn’t convenient to bring along, she’d left it behind.

Now, she was clearly treating Shen Tingxiao as her substitute plush toy, hugging him tightly and refusing to let go.

Shen Tingxiao tried tugging her hands free. “Jiang Yunzhu!”

“How come you can talk today?” she mumbled drowsily, stretching a hand to cover his mouth. “Don’t talk! You’re noisy!”

Then, with her other hand, she patted the empty spot beside her. “Come on, hurry up, come sleep with me!”

As if afraid he’d run away, she hugged him even tighter, trying to pull him onto the bed.

Of course, Jiang Yunzhu failed.

With her tiny strength, she was no match for Shen Tingxiao.

But he still lay down beside her, giving in.

Perhaps dissatisfied with his position, Jiang Yunzhu, though almost too drunk to open her eyes, insisted on tugging at his shoulder, trying to turn him over.

“You—”

“Shut up!” Shen Tingxiao shifted slightly away, not wanting her to notice the changes in his body. His tone sounded fierce, but there was no intimidation in it. “Sleep!”

She shifted closer, hugging his arm, pressing herself against his chest, and drifted off to sleep, content.

Shen Tingxiao forced himself to restrain his impulse, veins standing out on his forehead. Only after Jiang Yunzhu was completely asleep did he finally get up and head to the bathroom.

When he emerged again, there was a chill about him.

It seemed he’d just taken a cold shower.

...

When Jiang Yunzhu woke up the next morning, her head was pounding. She struggled to sit up, feeling a warm body next to her.

She assumed it was Sang Bai or Shao Shu.

“Get me a glass of water,” she said, massaging her temples. “I drank too much yesterday—my head hurts.”

Footsteps sounded, and soon a glass of water was handed to her.

“Thanks,” Jiang Yunzhu said, reaching for the glass—then suddenly sensed something was off.

The person’s hand was clean, slender, and well-defined—a man’s hand.

She looked up slowly, meeting Shen Tingxiao’s emotionless eyes. She swallowed. “Morning.”

Her face was calm, but inside she was screaming.

She’d gotten drunk last night and had no memory of what happened afterward.

Did they... do something last night?

Nervously, she finished the glass of water, then looked at him. “Did you... sleep here last night?”

“What else?” Shen Tingxiao looked at her coolly, correcting her address. “What should you be calling me?”

She gave an awkward smile, recalling how she’d addressed him yesterday, suddenly finding herself unable to say it now. “Was it... Brother Tingxiao who brought me back last night?”

He raised a brow. “Say the whole word.”

“You brought me back?” Jiang Yunzhu felt a mix of emotions. “Did we... do anything?”

“What do you think?” Shen Tingxiao leaned in slightly. “Need me to help you remember?”

In a flash, it all came back to her.

If there’d been a hole in the floor, she’d have crawled in and never come out.

She got out of bed, clutching her water glass. Only then did she realize her lips hurt. She went to the mirror, staring at her mouth for a while. “Why are my lips split, Mr. Shen?”

He looked away. “No idea. Maybe you bumped them.”

She had a feeling he was hiding something, but didn’t dwell on it. Frowning, she grumbled, “How did you bring me back yesterday? Did you just let me bump and stumble my way here?”

Maybe it was a psychological thing, but suddenly her whole body ached.

“Am I hurt anywhere else?” she asked at once.

Shen Tingxiao shoved his hands in his pockets, cold as ever. “No.”

Only then did she breathe a sigh of relief.

“Brother Tingxiao... I really appreciate you bringing me back last night, but next time—if there is a next time—could you be a little more gentlemanly?” she suggested cautiously.

He’d been gentle before, after all.

But he seemed so unpredictable.

Shen Tingxiao said coldly, “What, you want there to be a next time?”

Jiang Yunzhu: ...

Hangovers really weren’t pleasant. She didn’t want a next time either.

“Since you’re awake, get up and have breakfast,” Shen Tingxiao said, giving her only a glance, offering nothing more.

But before breakfast was over, Shen Tingxiao got a call and had to leave.

Clutching her aching head, Jiang Yunzhu sat in front of her computer, completely uninspired for the video she was supposed to film.

About half an hour later, Ge Xingjing knocked on her door.

“Something wrong?” she asked, holding onto the door handle.

He handed her a food box. “Miss Jiang, this is hangover soup.”

“Thank you,” she replied, giving him a grateful smile.

He wanted to remind her that it was Shen Tingxiao who’d had it prepared.

Before he could say anything, Jiang Yunzhu had already closed the door.

Such ingratitude, clear as day.