It's okay, I like looking at you.
When Ning Zhichu exported the last page of the interview transcript as a PDF, the time in the lower right corner of her computer had just passed 10:30 PM. Only her desk light was on in the office; the keyboard was hot from typing, and coffee stains on her fingertips blurred into light brown marks around the spacebar. She stretched, and just as her back rested against the chair back, her phone vibrated—it was a location sent by Wei Ting, along with the message: "Waiting for you downstairs, brought some hot food."
She grabbed the beige trench coat draped over the back of the chair and hurried through the empty editorial office. Under the streetlights outside the glass doors, the silhouette of the black Bentley blended into the night. Wei Ting sat in the driver's seat, an unlit cigar between his fingers. Seeing her approach, he first opened the car door and went around to the passenger side, placing his hand on the top of the door to shield her head. "Finished revising the manuscript?" His voice was warmer than the car's heater, his fingertips brushing against her reddened earlobes. "I saw you posted on WeChat this afternoon that you were almost out of coffee, so I picked up a can of Guatemala on the way."
Ning Zhichu bent down and got into the car, her nose first catching the scent of cedarwood on him. In the glove compartment was an insulated bag; opening it revealed a mug wrapped in a velvet sleeve, its surface printed with the Monet water lilies pattern she'd seen at the gallery last week but hadn't bought. "How did you know I liked this?" She warmed her hands with the mug, her eyes meeting Wei Ting's— He didn't start the car immediately; his fingertips tapped lightly on the steering wheel, his gaze sliding from her stray hairs to her tightly pursed lips, then he suddenly smiled: "Last week you stopped at the gallery for three minutes and even took a picture with your phone. Want me to check your photo album?"
Her ears instantly burned. She pretended to look down and stir her coffee, but then she heard Wei Ting unbuckle his seatbelt and lean in. His breath carried the faint scent of a cold cigar, and his fingers buttoned the top button of her trench coat collar: "Don't stay up so late next time. If your editor asks you to revise the third edition again, just call me." His thumb brushed away the coffee foam on her lower lip, his touch as gentle as if handling a fragile object. "Your boss, Lin Man, and I were college classmates. It's no problem for us to chat for a bit."
"Is Mr. Wei abusing his power?" Ning Zhichu deliberately raised her eyes to tease him, trying to appear composed as a mature woman, but her voice trailed off. Wei Ting stared into her bright eyes, his fingertip gently pressing against her lips: "It's to secure reasonable rest time for my little girl." He didn't move closer, but turned the car stereo to soft jazz. "I'll take you home first, and pick you up at eight tomorrow morning."
As she nodded, she noticed the Patek Philippe watch on Wei Ting's wrist, the moon phase on the dial facing her. She then remembered that tomorrow was the weekend, and she had originally planned to go to an exhibition with a colleague. But seeing the anticipation in his eyes, she changed her mind: "Then I'll come downstairs ten minutes early tomorrow morning and bring you an Americano?"
As Wei Ting started the car, he caught a glimpse of her secretly pressing her mug against her cheek and smiling, and he couldn't help but smile as well. The neon lights outside the car window flickered on her face, and he suddenly felt that what was more interesting than watching the stock market on Wall Street was watching his young girl act mature, her ears rising faster than stock prices.
The next morning at 7:50, Ning Zhichu stood at the entrance of the residential area with two cups of Americano. Just as she took out her phone to send a message to Wei Ting, she saw the familiar Bentley turn in. Wei Ting rolled down the window and held out his hand to her: "Are you cold?" He took the coffee cup and turned up the heater in the passenger seat. "The steamed buns are still warm. Have something to eat first."
The car was filled with the aroma of crab roe. Ning Zhichu took a bite of a xiaolongbao (soup dumpling), the juice getting on her lips. When Wei Ting handed her a tissue, she deliberately leaned over to let him wipe it. His fingers had barely touched her lips when she gently bit his fingertip. Seeing him raise an eyebrow, she quickly lowered her head to chew her bun, pretending to be engrossed in the street scene outside the window. "There's a meeting this afternoon," Wei Ting suddenly said, gently ruffling her hair with his fingertips. "After it's over, I'll take you somewhere. Wear a thicker coat."
She didn't ask where they were going, just nodded obediently. At noon, Wei Ting took her to the gallery entrance. Before leaving, he took off his scarf and wrapped it around her neck: "This is cashmere, warmer than your thin scarf." He tucked the edges of the scarf around her, his gaze falling on her face, which was only half visible because of the scarf. Suddenly, he leaned down and kissed her forehead: "Message me after you've seen the exhibition, don't wander off."
Ning Zhichu was browsing in the gallery until three in the afternoon when her phone rang. She had just stopped in front of a Renoir painting. "My meeting is over," Wei Ting said with a smile. "When you come out of the gallery, turn left and there's an alleyway. I'll wait for you there." She walked over as he said and saw a vintage Morgan sports car parked in the alley. Wei Ting was leaning against the car, wearing a camel coat and carrying a velvet box.
“This is…” She walked over and saw a pearl necklace in the box. The pearls were of uniform size and shone with a soft luster in the sunlight. “I saw it at Harrods when I was on a business trip to London last week,” Wei Ting picked up the necklace and put it around her neck, his fingers gently stroking the skin on the back of her neck. “The pearls are freshwater pearls, so they won’t be too flashy. It will be suitable for you to wear during the interview.”
Ning Zhichu touched the pearl around her neck, then suddenly tiptoed and kissed him on the chin. She had intended to be elegant and alluring, but her nervousness caused her to bump into his stubble, making her hiss softly in pain. Wei Ting instinctively supported her waist and pulled her closer to him: "Why the rush?" He looked down at her reddened nose, gently rubbing it with his thumb. "Wait two more months, then I'll take you to Place Vendôme in Paris and pick out an even better one."
“I don’t want anything better,” Ning Zhichu wrapped her arms around his waist and buried her face in his coat. “This is perfect.” She heard Wei Ting laugh out loud, the vibration of his chest coming through the coat, reminding her of the first time she interviewed him—back then, he was sitting in the conference room of the Jiangcheng Investment Building, dressed in a suit and tie, with sharp eyes. But now, this man who could turn the world upside down with a flick of his wrist was rubbing his chin against the top of her head, his voice as soft as melted chocolate: “Then my little girl will have to wear it every day from now on.”
After the weekend, Ning Zhichu received an important interview assignment: to interview a hedge fund tycoon in Hong Kong. As she packed her luggage, Wei Ting was sitting on the sofa looking at financial reports, but his gaze kept drifting towards her suitcase. "How many days are you going to be gone?" He put down his documents and came over, putting her folding umbrella into her side pocket. "There's a typhoon in Hong Kong recently, remember to check the weather forecast every day."
“Three days,” Ning Zhichu stuffed her laptop into her bag, and when she looked up, she saw Wei Ting staring at the pearl necklace around her neck. “What’s wrong?” He didn’t speak, but simply reached out and tightened the clasp of the necklace, his fingertips lingering on the back of her neck for a moment. “I had someone from the Hong Kong branch book you the Peninsula Hotel. It’s close to the interview location. Call me anytime if anything comes up.” He took out a black card from his suit’s inner pocket and slipped it into her wallet. “Don’t be stingy. Eat whatever you want. If the typhoon affects your flights, I’ll have a private jet pick you up.”
"Is Mr. Wei going to keep me as his mistress?" Ning Zhichu deliberately raised an eyebrow, trying to appear indifferent, but saw Wei Ting's eyes darken. He pinned her against the suitcase, his hands braced on either side of her, his breath enveloping her: "I want my little girl to never have to compromise herself, no matter where she goes." His lips were only a centimeter away from hers, but he didn't kiss her; he merely nuzzled her nose against his own. "After the interview, I'll fly to Hong Kong to pick you up and take you to a Michelin three-star restaurant."
As she nodded, she heard Wei Ting's phone ring. It was his special assistant calling, saying there was an urgent contract that needed his signature. When he answered the phone, his tone instantly returned to that of a financial tycoon, but after hanging up, it softened again as he zipped up her suitcase: "I'll take you to the airport, and I'll tell you about the precautions in Hong Kong on the way."
At the airport, as Wei Ting was helping her check in her luggage, Ning Zhichu suddenly hugged him from behind. "Wei Ting," she said, her voice muffled as she pressed her face against his coat, "don't miss me too much." He turned around, pulled her into his arms, and gently stroked her hair with his fingers: "I'll text you every day. If you have time, send me a photo too, even just the view from your hotel window."
At the security checkpoint, Ning Zhichu turned around and saw Wei Ting still standing there, half of the scarf she had knitted for him sticking out of his suit pocket—she had stayed up all night knitting it last week, the stitches weren't very neat, but he wore it every day. She waved to him, saw the smile on his lips, and suddenly realized that the love between mature men and women wasn't about grand declarations of love, but about him remembering all her little habits, and her being willing to let go of all her pretense of maturity in front of him.
The interview in Hong Kong went smoothly, but as expected, a typhoon hit on the third day. Ning Zhichu stood in front of the hotel's floor-to-ceiling window, watching the tree branches swaying in the wind outside, when her phone suddenly rang. It was Wei Ting calling: "I've arrived in Hong Kong and am waiting for you in the hotel lobby." She was stunned for a moment, then heard him laugh: "I told you, if the typhoon affected the flights, I would come to pick you up."
She hurried downstairs and saw Wei Ting sitting on the sofa in the lobby, still damp from the outside. He handed her a cup of hot cocoa first: "I just bought it, it's still warm." He tucked her wet bangs behind her ears. "We can't book the Michelin dinner tonight, so I asked the hotel to prepare room service, including your favorite lobster pasta."
Back in the room, Wei Ting hung up her wet coat for her and then took out a hairdryer to dry her hair. The warm air flowed through her hair as his fingers gently combed through her long locks, his movements so tender they were unlike the decisive and efficient CEO Wei he usually was in the conference room. "How did the interview go?" he suddenly asked, his voice coming through the hum of the hairdryer. "That hedge fund tycoon didn't give you any trouble, did he?"
“No,” Ning Zhichu leaned against his lap, looking up at him. “He also said he knew you and praised your good taste.” Wei Ting turned off the hairdryer and looked down at her. “What did he praise me for?” She reached out and hooked her arm around his neck, pulling him down. She whispered in his ear, “He praised you for finding a good reporter.”
He chuckled, flipped her over, and pinned her to the sofa, his fingers gently pinching her chin. "My little girl is just too wonderful." His kiss landed, carrying the sweet scent of hot cocoa, sliding from her lips to the pearl necklace around her neck, his fingers lightly caressing the pearls. "Haven't you taken it off these past few days?"
“You said you’d wear it every day.” Ning Zhichu wrapped her arms around his neck, feeling his fingertips slip inside her sweater, the heat making her heart race. He didn’t continue, but lowered his head and bit a light mark on her neck: “After the typhoon passes, I’ll take you to Victoria Peak. I heard the night view is beautiful.”
As she nodded, she heard the sound of the typhoon outside the window gradually subside. Wei Ting pulled her into his arms, turned on the TV, and found an old movie. Leaning against his chest, listening to his steady heartbeat, she suddenly realized that the best kind of love is when two people can be themselves in front of each other—she doesn't have to pretend to be mature, and he doesn't have to be tense all the time. In the darkness of night and the light of dawn, they are simply each other's closest people, accompanying each other through every ordinary day in the gentlest way.
The next morning, the Hong Kong sun shone brightly after the typhoon. Wei Ting took Ning Zhichu to Victoria Peak. As the cable car slowly ascended, she leaned on his shoulder, looking at the scenery outside the window. "You know what?" she suddenly said, "The first time I interviewed you, I was so nervous I almost dropped my recorder." Wei Ting looked down at her, his fingertips gently squeezing her hand. "I know, your palms were sweaty, and you even knocked over the bottled water I offered you."
She blushed and tried to hide, but Wei Ting pressed the back of her head and kissed her: "It's okay, I just love seeing you nervous." When the cable car reached the summit, the sunlight shone perfectly on them. Ning Zhichu stood on the observation deck, looking at the panoramic view of Hong Kong below, and suddenly felt that love was like the scenery on Victoria Peak—it required a slow climb to see the most beautiful view. And she and Wei Ting were like that, running hard on their own tracks, only to meet at a certain corner, and from then on, walking side by side, drawing their own straight line in the night and the morning light.
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