Chapter 50

Mo Huaizhen successfully received the message, followed by a string of concerned words, and then disappeared. This is a routine; I've gotten used to chatting with him during the gaps between his messages and the inability to reply.

Ward always ran away as fast as a defeated rooster or a soldier who had given up hope of success. I bet he would win the title of "Fastest Man of the Year" and maybe even run a marathon, since he'd have to change his name next time.

As I passed the security booth, I glanced inside and our eyes met. He greeted me familiarly, "How was your day? School must be tough. I haven't seen you in days. Why are you up so early?"

"It's alright," I said. "I was leaving home around six or seven the past few days, but you seem to start your day shift at eight?"

"Oh, you still remember?" He scratched his head and smiled. "Welcome home, sir!"

I waved to him with a smile, watching him move the green plant hidden on the table to the windowsill. The brick-gray security booth gained a fresh splash of color, adorned with tiny, scattered flowers.

Before I could even take a few steps, my collar felt tightened by something: "You didn't even see me?"

"?" I turned my head, completely bewildered, amidst the force that was almost suffocating me, and saw Shimoyama Mingyu with a face full of dissatisfaction. Realizing I had seen him, he immediately began to berate me: "I'm standing right in front of you, and you're only focused on chatting with that security guard. Can't you see me? This face, this height, this very serious attire."

He was still wearing the black clothes that had been criticized that day, and the metal trim on his cuffs reflected a faint light between his brows: "I'm already very noticeable, you didn't even remember me, did you? How could you not remember me?"

His temper was even more spoiled than Tachibana Miki's. Or rather, compared to him, Tachibana Miki wasn't even a spoiled princess anymore. I tried to find the key words in his incoherent, repetitive sentences, and the summary was that he was complaining that I was talking to someone else and thus ignoring him. But first, I didn't see him at the intersection ahead; second, I didn't see him at all; third, this was completely not my fault; fourth, absolutely…

He stared at me coldly.

Sigh. Fourthly, this must be my fault.

I sincerely apologized to him, which finally made this overly friendly gentleman stop frowning because of his grievance. Then, I watched as he pulled out a lunchbox with steam still stuck to its transparent plastic shell from inside his trench coat, followed by two bags of rustling QQ candies, two bags each of dried fruit and meat, and a cream puff wrapped in a small storage box.

I must be seeing things, or maybe the sun is shining too brightly on me. Why would something like this appear under a black trench coat? Is this person, who is tall and not particularly strong, really doing this?

"These are all for you," said Shimoyama Naruyu in a matter-of-fact and slightly smug tone. "Take them. The lunchbox was given to you by your landlord, and the snacks are from the twin girls across the hall. They also asked me to pass on a message to you, saying they like you."

The two girls across the hall. I thought for a moment, and my mind drifted to old memories. It had just rained, and moss and mud were spreading throughout the neighborhood. Their dolls had been torn apart during their argument and, in a fit of pique, were thrown into a mud puddle.

elder sister:"……"

younger sister:"……"

I:"……"

I wanted to leave, and as soon as I took a step, the two sisters also silently shed tears without making a sound. They cried and then hugged each other, apologizing to one another.

So I took on the job. I just washed and sewed the two dolls, and I never expected they would remember it to this day.

Moreover, I haven't seen anyone during this time. I thought I might run into someone because I have relatives here, and after visiting them, they would go home.

I asked, puzzled, "Why would they contact you?"

Frost Mountain Mingyu slightly raised his chin, unaware of how much it would hurt someone's self-esteem to make such a gesture given his height. "I don't want to look at his face anymore," he said. "Because they think I'm close to you."

"?" I strained my neck to look up, trying to see a hint of "I'm spreading rumors" on his face, which was practically pointing its nose in the air.

“Of course I know you like me the most.” He laughed and circled around me, then stopped behind me and rested his head on my shoulder. “Won’t you? You’ll always like me, I know everything.”

I really wanted to push him away, but that would only hurt his face. I'm not at the point where I can calmly slap someone's face.

“Since you don’t want to take me to your house, then come with me.” He took my hand and scratched it in his palm. “Isn’t that enough for you? Don’t refuse me this time.”

He put one hand to his lips and gently shushed them, his eyes narrowing, making it impossible to tell whether he was smiling or trying to create an air of mystery.

"I know everything you want to know; it's my secret."

I followed Shimoyama Naruyuki into her house without really knowing what was going on. I don't even know if I had any expectations.

"Sit on the sofa, a chair, or the floor? I like the table and the floor." He struck up a conversation with me, taking two cans of drinks out of the refrigerator and slamming one of them at me. "I don't know if you like it, this is mint flavor. Actually, I don't like eating grass, but I've never seen anyone give me this before. It's brand new, I didn't expect to drink it with you."

Upon closer inspection, it was a regular alcoholic beverage. But with an alcohol content of 14%, it was anything but ordinary.

Are mint-flavored alcoholic drinks meant to make people slightly tipsy or to make them more and more sober?

"...?" Frost Mountain Mingyu stood there and took two sips, looking at the jar with a strange expression. "It tastes awful."

He concluded: "Those felines that like catnip really don't have much of an aesthetic sense."

I couldn't help but defend them: "Catnip and mint are not the same thing." And we are humans, we shouldn't be compared to felines.

"Hmph." He rolled his eyes and reluctantly sat down on the floor next to me—I still prefer sitting on the sofa. "You're only this forgiving of things you don't have."

"I'm also very forgiving of what I have." I couldn't help but defend myself.

The taste was not bad; both the smells and textures were quite stimulating for me. I pretended not to be choked and slowly set it aside, when Shimoyama Naruyu handed me a tissue.

He kindly said, "You really should wipe your hands after taking them out of the refrigerator."

I nodded: "They even got water droplets on my mouth, so I had to wipe them off."

He and I exchanged a glance, and then he burst into a very hearty laugh. The laughter was so loud and long that I almost thought he was practicing his singing.

“So you have to have a drink with me,” he said seriously. “You absolutely have to.”

I have to admit, alcohol has a very strong catalytic effect. Although, realistically speaking, I should have been drunk much earlier.

I couldn't help but ask a serious question again: "Is this wine for swearing an oath of blood, or for a long and happy marriage?"