45. Ren is ruthless
It was the first time that Eric held her hand so seriously, and Vivian's cheeks flushed. They didn't shy away from physical contact when they were together, and touching heads or hugging shoulders was common, but just a handshake made her blush.
She pretended to be calm and said, "Really? I'm optimistic about you. How about this? I'll be your agent, and you go and swindle the rich woman. We'll make a 50/50 split."
"Deal." The two men shook hands across the table, and he withdrew his hand politely.
"Is the child okay?"
"What?" Vivian had long forgotten the joke she had made in Guangzhou.
"I knew it was a lie."
Vivian sighed: "I haven't seen Si Miao for a long time. It's great to see her so happy."
"Speaking of which, it was they who introduced us."
A smile appeared on her face: "I was so young back then."
This was a bit strange. They had only known each other that summer, only six months. Yet, she felt as if she had already experienced several seasons within herself. No wonder they say people grow up overnight; she even felt as if she had aged overnight.
"We were so cute back then." He still remembered how they had both been a bit pretentious when they first met, trying hard to act like someone they weren't. It wasn't like now, where they didn't have to dress up or be reserved, just sitting together and feasting on barbecued meat.
"It is said that Lin Yang's business is booming. It seems that Si Miao is indeed lucky."
"I haven't seen them in ages either." He sounded a little melancholy, after all, he and Lin Yang had drifted apart. While it was common for friends to drift apart, the underlying reasons were uncomfortable. Knowing everyone was snobby was one thing, but seeing a former friend treat you this way was another.
Lately he has often felt tired and feels that old age is approaching.
Bah, bah, bah, why am I so down? It must be because I haven't been sleeping well.
Thinking of this, he hesitated and said, "I have a request."
"What?"
After Vivian asked, he remained silent for a long moment, as if he was at a loss for words. It was strange; he was always eloquent, and it was rare to see him hesitate like this.
So I asked, "Is it so difficult to talk about it?"
"Then you promise not to laugh at me."
She stared at him with her eyes. "Such fussiness. Why don't you let me guess?"
"good."
"You didn't sleep well."
"Guess when was the last time I slept well?"
"You will definitely say it was at my house last time."
"I had a minor surgery a while ago and needed general anesthesia. It was a good night's sleep I hadn't had in a long time. Some people think that feeling is terrifying, a whole period of time completely disappearing, like a black hole of emptiness. But you can't just go under anesthesia for no reason."
"What surgery?" She couldn't help but get nervous, her fingers gripping the edge of the table.
"It's okay, just removing the polyp."
Her fingers loosened.
"I want to sleep at your house."
"Hahahaha." She couldn't help laughing, covering her face with her hands, unable to look him in the face.
The restaurant was very small, with tables very close together. Guests at two nearby tables looked over in surprise. She quickly stopped and said, "I've never heard anything so brazen."
He said nothing, waiting for her answer.
"I'm alone, so it doesn't matter. Think about it yourself. I don't want to be hunted down."
"If I don't sleep well, I will die suddenly."
This was almost a lie. If it were someone else, she would have turned around and left long ago.
But she just joked: "I'm really attractive. When a hot-blooded man is with me, he just wants to sleep."
The two walked out of the restaurant.
"Come over when you're done. Better do it later, to give me some time to clean up."
In the evening, Vivian sent him the address and waited by the roadside in advance. Otherwise, the driver would get lost in the winding old neighborhood.
She led him into the shadows of the trees along the winding sidewalks of the residential complex. Unlike the time Qiu Fang—now mentioning Qiu Fang as if he were from a past life—had come, and she was too embarrassed to show her haste, she didn't even feel there was anything to hide.
For some reason, she was not afraid that he would understand the real Fang Weiwei.
Eric also remembered the first time he took her home, the car parked hundreds of meters away. The high wall of the courtyard definitely didn't belong to this residential complex. The time before that, he'd gone to a luxury apartment in the CBD.
She seems mysterious.
The elevator in the old house was a bit unreliable, and after walking through the winding, dark corridors, they finally reached her house. She went in first to change her shoes. For a few seconds, he waited quietly in the dark, the warm yellow light in the entrance illuminating her. That light made him feel slightly melancholic.
Weiwei asked him to sit down first. After searching through the boxes and drawers for a long time, she finally found an oversized T-shirt that she hadn't worn in a long time. "Here, I'll give it to you as pajamas."
"I don't want any man's clothes."
Vivian rolled her eyes at him. "How difficult. This is my own, Master."
She showered first, having found a set of extra-conservative pajamas beforehand. Usually, when she was home alone, she'd just throw on an old tank top. No pajamas were more comfortable than a well-washed T-shirt or tank top.
But it was definitely not something to wear tonight. She wasn't going to use this opportunity to seduce him.
She had hoped for him, even blushing and her heart often pounding. But as she had said when they said goodbye last time, there were many people of the opposite sex, and good friends were hard to come by. She and he could just be friends, close enough to sleep in the same room without anything happening.
Because they were on the verge of becoming strangers who would never meet again, because they could be thrown back into the vast sea of people at any moment, she had no ambition to have anything happen with him. But for some reason, she was also worried that he would disappear from her life, so she wanted to artificially create some opportunities.
That's it.
She came out of the shower, her whole body still emitting a citrus-scented steam. He looked at her: "Why are you... dressed so tightly?"
She walked over to look in the mirror. Her long pants and long sleeves, in red and black plaid, looked old-fashioned and outdated. She hadn't worn these pajamas in probably ten years. She jokingly said, "I'm weak and afraid of the cold."
"Are you all right? Then I'll go."
"Wait a moment."
"Waiting for what?"
She blushed inexplicably: "The steam hasn't even dissipated yet."
"You're so picky." He stood up and unbuttoned his shirt as he walked towards the bathroom. "Don't peek at me."
"You're crazy. Wait a minute," she went to the refrigerator and took out an orange, "Here you go."
"What's this for?"
"Have you ever tried eating an orange in the shower?"
The bathroom was thick with mist, still lingering, a mixture of the bitter aroma of orange peels and the floral fragrance of her shampoo or body wash. He turned on the shower, the water enveloping him. He slowly peeled the orange, the heat of the steam amplifying its fragrance like a natural perfume. He couldn't help but inhale deeply, the orange-scented air reaching deep into his lungs, like a gentle caress from a soft hand.
After turning off the water, he saw an unopened brush head next to the electric toothbrush on the sink.
Coming out of the bathroom, he tiptoed, and saw her sitting next to the tall Monstera, reading a book seriously.
On the sofa lay the blanket and pillow he'd used last time. On the coffee table lay a half-cup of warm water, a pair of earplugs, and even a half-full box of GABA capsules. He'd tried them over the years, searching for a sleep-inducing pill like Shennong, sometimes with some effect, sometimes without any effect at all.
"I tried my best to save the insomniac man." She pointed to the sofa.
He sat down, patted the seat beside him unconsciously, and looked at her.
She glanced at him sideways and said seriously, "Stop. I don't like this action. It's like calling kittens and puppies."
It's obviously the same thing, but when a woman does it, she looks cute and lovely, while when a man does it, he looks self-righteous and greasy.
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," he knew he was wrong, "I forgot you hate this kind of man the most."
"Which one?"
"Thinking he's charming."
"That's more like it." She closed the book and stood up. "Then go to sleep."
"Wait. I haven't had the meal you promised me yet."
"Tomorrow is the company's year-end party, and the day after tomorrow you should go home." Seeing that he was reluctant to leave, she said, "Be good, and we'll talk after the Spring Festival. I keep my word."
///
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