022 | (Twenty-one) Orange

Su Xingmao stared at her for a long time, his probing gaze fixed on her face, his expression unusually complex.

Like being slowly tortured by gleaming blades, Xie Qingyan felt extremely uncomfortable under their gaze. She resembled a thief caught red-handed for the first time, her heart inexplicably heavy.

"You're not allowed to look!"

Enraged, she tore the remaining test paper in her hand into even smaller pieces with a few "rip" sounds, her beautiful face shattered into a spiderweb, and threw large wads of paper at his face, forbidding him from looking at her again.

Fragments of white paper, covered in formulas, fell in a flurry, as if a light snow had fallen over the constellation of the Rabbit.

As the light snow fell, his gaze was veiled in a hazy mist of light, obscuring his vision, like an old photograph with gray spots, curled edges, mold, and blurred appearance.

The clock on the wall ticked away, minute by minute, several times. My heart was burning with anxiety as we stared at each other, when I heard him say casually, "Write the rest first, I'll print another one later."

Su Xingmao slowly shifted his gaze, dispelling her unease with a few words.

"I'll sweep the floor later."

Xie Qingyan breathed a sigh of relief and shuffled down to sit. After this little incident, she became much more well-behaved, diligently working through the exam paper and staying up until dusk. She got thirsty midway through and asked him to go downstairs and squeeze two glasses of orange juice.

As evening approached, the sun slanted down from the sky, casting a warm hue over the evening.

Like an orange, peeled and cut in half, the golden peel and the white fibers inside stretch out like rosy clouds.

Later that evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon, the juice from the fruit was poured from the glass into the sky, filling even the clouds with the scent of citrus, a vibrant mix of red and yellow.

The warm light fell on her cheeks and hair, creating a golden halo, and also carried a faint fragrance.

The sweet orange scent lingering in her hair is from her favorite shampoo.

I remember the constellation Mao very clearly.

Su Xingmao had finished his small stack of papers, turned on the desk lamp, and quietly waited for Xie Qingyan to finish writing the last exam paper, or more accurately, to finish copying it.

Xie Qingyan always said she was dizzy when it came to words, especially science formulas. She would get dizzy just looking at them, so when she did her homework, she would pout, purse her lips, and look like she had a bitter and resentful expression.

Lost in thought, Su Xingmao glanced at the half-finished glass of orange juice.

Xie Qingyan has a sweet tooth and dislikes bitterness. She peeled off the skin and removed the seeds from her cup, added two spoonfuls of honey and white sugar, and it smelled sweet.

Compared to her complicated steps, Suki no Mako prefers the original flavor.

Fresh orange juice is not sweet; it tastes sour and bitter at first. Only after the bitter orange flavor has completely melted in your mouth can you taste the belated sweetness.

Ten minutes later, Xie Qingyan finished the last test question, finally able to put down his pen and stretch: "I'm exhausted!"

Su Xingmao took out his phone, the screen's light illuminating his sharply defined jawline. He opened a food app, his tone flat and indifferent: "What do you want to eat?"

"Oh, you're treating?" Xie Qingyan raised an eyebrow, his eyes darting around.

"Hmm." The nanny was still resting, and Su Xingmao had a lot of complaints about takeout, so she probably wouldn't order takeout.

"Do you still have money? What's in your bank card?" Xie Qingyan accepted his bank card early in the morning. The nearly eight-figure balance made Xie Qingyan count the zeros several times to make sure he wasn't seeing things.

Is Su Xing Mao a hamster? It's amazing how well it hoards so much money. But thinking about it, it makes sense. It has countless prize money from various competitions since childhood, scholarships for outstanding students from school, and New Year's money from parents and relatives.

“There are still some.” His eyelashes drooped slightly, his gaze still fixed on the phone screen.

"How many is 'some'?" Xie Qingyan pressed, determined to get to the bottom of it. "How many digits?"

The constellation Mao no longer speaks.

"Come on, you!" Xie Qingyan defined Su Xingmao's behavior as showing off and scoffed at it. "A penniless guy like you is still pretending."

"How many coins do you have left? Let me treat you to a meal."

She proudly waved her phone, looking like a newly rich young tycoon, and playfully patted his cheek with her paw: "I'm not short of money now!"

Su Xingmao frowned slightly. He raised his hand and grabbed her mischievous wrist. His face still had that smug look of barely concealing his emotions, but his eyes darkened, revealing his displeasure.

"Did I say something wrong?" She blinked, feigning innocence, but her wrist struggled slightly in his palm.

Su Xingmao moved his lips, but ultimately said nothing and released his grip.

Undeterred by her mischievous desire for revenge, she reached out and rubbed his cheek, even exaggeratedly leaning closer to examine him closely from head to toe: "Speaking of which, the slap I gave you yesterday, it's gone so quickly? Not even a red mark left?"

She deliberately poked the spot where he had been beaten yesterday with her fingertip: "Tsk, you're really thick-skinned."

He was so close that he could clearly see her fluttering eyelashes, each one distinct, long and curled. Her cheeks were also covered with a layer of fine white down. Against the light, with the sunset still lingering, her face was still a rosy pink, all soft and lovely.

Like a kitten with its fur standing on end in the light.

His entire face was shimmering with gold.

His throat tightened, his lips and teeth were dry, and he felt a strong urge to kiss her.

But no, she's always angry; she's like a fireball, easily ignited.

Su Xingmao swallowed, silently lowered his eyes, and stopped looking at her.

"What do you want to eat?" Xie Qingyan found his response cold and uninteresting, and lost interest in teasing him. She sat back down and scrolled through the black pearls on the food list one by one: "Japanese food?"

Su Xingmao nodded: "Alright."

"Hot pot, I haven't had hot pot in ages." Xie Qingyan missed the delicious taste of tripe wrapped in millet peppers and scallions, bursting with freshness in her mouth.

He replied, "Okay."

"Forget it, eating hot pot in this weather would be unbearably hot. Let's just have some Chinese food." Xie Qingyan didn't want to be drenched in sweat while eating, so she decisively shook her head.

"Mmm." Her response was a short, monosyllabic syllable.

"Hmm, hmm, what the hell?" Xie Qingyan's patience was about to run out, and his face darkened.

She already suffers from severe decision-making difficulties; having everything agreeable is even more maddening than solving a difficult problem.

"Can't you have a little more assertiveness?" she complained.

Su Xingmao suddenly raised his eyes, his gaze fixed intently on her.

Did she really want him to have his own opinions? What if his "opinions" were something even more outrageous, something that would make her furious? He looked at her silently, his eyes dark.

Su Xingmao fell silent again. Every time he looked at her with his mouth shut like this, Xie Qingyan felt her hair stand on end. She glared back and said, "I didn't say anything wrong."

In a short while, he regained his composure, stood up and said, "Let's have Chinese food."

You didn't answer my question just now, but now you're saying we should eat?

The word "okay" stuck in her throat. Xie Qingyan saw his "whatever" look and realized he was just brushing her off! The annoyance she had just suppressed resurfaced, and a mischievous urge suddenly arose. She changed the subject.

"Oh dear, what should I do?" Xie Qingyan winked at him, her eyes curving into sly crescents, smiling like a mischievous little fox, determined not to do as he pleased.

"It's all someone's fault. I've been eating Chinese food for half a month straight, and I'm about to throw up." She drawled, swiping her finger across the screen. "Suddenly, I really don't want to eat anymore."

Su Xingmao paused for two seconds, then understood and changed his answer: "Hot pot."

"Su Xingmao! Are you deaf or have you lost your memory?" She immediately stomped her foot, pouted, and showed her utmost dissatisfaction, ruthlessly accusing him of something he shouldn't have: "I just said it was hot! You're just trying to kill me with heat, aren't you?"

"Japanese food." His voice was steady, without any discernible emotion.

Xie Qingyan muttered under her breath, "A repeater, you..."

They will learn to speak like humans.

After going around in circles, she finally managed a reluctant pout and said, "Since you want to eat it, fine..."

Xie Qingyan fiddled with it for a moment, then immediately sent him her location, a triumphant smile spreading across her face: "This is the place."

This was exactly what she wanted.

Su Xingmao opened the location without changing his expression, as he was already used to this.

Xie Qingyan has always been like this. He likes things in a roundabout way and never says them directly. Even if he has already made up his mind, he will still make others rack their brains to guess. If they can guess correctly, everyone will be happy. If they can't guess correctly, they will be in big trouble.

I've been playing guessing games since I was a child, and I never get tired of them.

He hasn't changed over the years; only his body has grown. The small figure that once cast a shadow at his feet has grown tall and slender in each passing spring breeze, with well-proportioned bones and flesh. His frail frame supports a fluffy white mink coat, gradually becoming fuller and more juicy, like a ripe peach. Yet, his heart remains that of a childish imp who loves wearing cartoon underwear.

He called for the driver with a blank expression.