Chapter 42 For us every day
The man's usually flamboyant and handsome face was now dazed, almost comical. A tuft of black hair stuck up unruly, swaying slightly as he turned his head.
He stared at Wen Mu for a full ten seconds, then lowered his head and pinched his thigh hard.
"Hiss——" He frowned in pain, it was not a dream.
When he looked up again, Wen Mu was already seated next to him, stuffing her carry-on case under the seat in front of her. Her sapphire cufflinks gleamed in the cabin lights, making her wrists appear even whiter.
"Wife," Song Xingran said in a tense voice, "Why are you here?"
Wen Mu reached out to smooth his frizzy hair, his fingertips brushing against his burning earlobes. "Because of work."
The man suddenly grabbed her wrist, his Adam's apple rolling violently as he tilted his head back: "What's going on? Don't scare me."
Wen Mu reluctantly explained, "Professor Schmidt values the discovery of Kepler-13b very much and wants me to be responsible for follow-up observations at the European station."
"You accept?" The man's throat was dry.
"Yes." Wen Mu pushed his glasses up. "Six-month visiting scholar at the University of Zurich."
A week ago, when Professor Gao Chonghua told her the news, she almost immediately booked a flight. Only when the payment confirmation message popped up did Wen Mu realize it belatedly, holding her forehead with her hands. When had she become so impulsive?
But then I thought, since we are going to Europe anyway, let's just take the same flight.
"So," Song Xingran's Adam's apple rolled, "you've already planned this?"
Wen Mu nodded.
I remember this week someone's become even more clingy. He'd keep her up until the wee hours of the morning every night, and this morning he even pinned her against the bathroom wall and did it again, calling it "paying for the next eight months in advance."
But now, looking at Song Xingran's dazed expression, she felt that the secret was worth keeping.
"Is it really for work?" The man suddenly became serious. "No, is it to accommodate me?"
Wen Mu raised his eyebrows: "Master Song, don't get me wrong, this is not for you."
He tapped the nebula map on the tablet with his fingertips. "It's for my career in the stars."
"What about Yu Mo's project?"
"The most difficult data modeling has been completed." Wen Mu chuckled, "They can handle the rest."
The man hugged her waist, buried his face in her neck and took a deep breath, his breathing was trembling.
"Sir, Madam, please fasten your seat belts. The plane is about to take off." The blonde flight attendant politely reminded.
Wen Mu pushed the furry head away in disdain, ignoring the aggrieved look of the man beside him: "What are you looking at? Sit down."
Even as the plane climbed to the stratosphere, Song Xingran would occasionally steal glances at the people around him. While Wen Mu opened her notebook to process data, he pretended to read a magazine. When the flight attendant brought the meal, he deliberately asked for an extra portion of her favorite tiramisu.
"Song Xingran." Wen Mu closed the computer.
"Um?"
"If you keep staring at me like that," she turned her head, her eyes narrowing slightly, "I'll change seats."
The man immediately sat up straight, but within five minutes, his fingers began to play with the ends of her hair restlessly again.
ah.
It seems a bit embarrassing.
*
The apartment on the eastern shore of Lake Zurich exudes classic Song Xingran style. Carbon fiber parts from F1 race cars adorn the living room walls, trophies fill the bookshelves, and even the coffee table is shaped like a tire. The only thing that doesn't fit in is the astronomical telescope on the balcony, its tube covered in bear stickers—clearly a later addition.
"Someone cleans it regularly, it's very clean." Song Xingran pushed the suitcase into the master bedroom, his eyes swept across the king-size bed, and his ears suddenly turned red.
Wen Mu opened the closet, which was half empty. As she took out her clothes and sorted them, she caught someone's gaze for the twelfth time.
“You can actually just watch it.”
The man was stunned for a moment, then rubbed the back of his neck and laughed awkwardly: "I just can't believe it."
I can’t believe that I can hold her to sleep every day without having to live apart, and I can create new memories in the places where they have been.
Dinner was a simple tomato beef noodle soup. Song Xingran, wearing an apron and busy in the open kitchen, looked surprisingly homely, his muscular lines faintly visible under his white T-shirt.
Wen Mu sat at the island counter, swinging his legs, and casually asked, "If you live here, is it convenient to go to the Brussels headquarters?"
"The team's focus this year is on the wind tunnel laboratory," Song Xingran spread the fried egg in her bowl, "We can just hold a remote meeting and go for the important tests."
He paused, "But you, professor, what exactly are you researching?"
"Astrophysics." Wen Mu picked up a handful of noodles. "It's not exactly the same as mine."
The glass made a crisp sound when it hit the marble countertop.
The man paused as he drank the water, his Adam's apple rolling slowly. The sunlight cast tiny shadows on his eyelashes, obscuring his suddenly darkened eyes.
"Is the professor a man or a woman?" he asked casually.
"A man."
"How old?"
Wen Mu put down his chopsticks and looked at him calmly: "Fifty, very old. If you clean up, you can be my dad."
"Is Master Song satisfied with this answer?"
Song Xingran's mouth twitched, and he lowered his head and took two mouthfuls of noodles: "Just a casual question."
Wen Mu: "You'd better be."
When the foam in the sink reached the edge, Wen Mu's wrist was grasped. The man's palm was damp and warm, and his black hair hung down in front of his forehead.
"I'll do it."
He plucked the sponge from her hand without a word. The sleeves of his black sweater were rolled up to his elbows, revealing his well-defined forearms. His broad shoulders and narrow waist were wrapped in the black fabric, and the lines of his spine were faintly visible as he moved.
Amid the sound of running water, he suddenly turned around: "What are you standing for? Go take a shower."
The bathroom was filled with steam. Wen Mu came out, drying his hair. Song Xingran was leaning against the French window, talking on the phone. He had changed into dark gray home pants, his upper body bare, the phone pressed to his ear, speaking something in fluent German.
She vaguely caught a few words: "astrophysics," "professor," and "Zurich."
The towel stopped at the end of her hair, and Wen Mu simply leaned against the door frame, and water droplets slid down her neck into the collar of her pajamas.
The man turned around and the voice on the phone stopped abruptly.
The person on the other end of the phone was still talking, but his eyes were already glued to Wen Mu.
Wet hair clung to her shoulders, and her white cotton pajamas were stained with moisture, leaving a few translucent spots. The worst part was her legs. She was wearing knee-length pajamas, but the fabric swayed as she walked, making her throat tighten even more than if she were naked.
"That's it." He hung up the phone abruptly, his Adam's apple rolling.
Wen Mu walked to the minibar and poured a glass of water: "Who's calling?"
"The team." Song Xingran threw his phone onto the sofa, grabbed the T-shirt draped over the back of the chair and put it over his head. "It's about the wind tunnel test."
The water glass tapped lightly on the bar.
Wen Mu watched the black cloth fall, covering his muscular waist and abdomen. "Discussing wind tunnel testing in German?"
"Swiss engineer." He walked into the bathroom and came out with a hair dryer in his hand. He walked over to her and said, "Turn around."
The warm wind blew through her hair, and the man's fingers shuttled through her hair, occasionally brushing against her scalp and causing a slight shiver.
Wen Mu stared at their reflections in the glass window, lost in thought. Song Xingran's eyelashes cast fan-shaped shadows under her eyes as she lowered her gaze, her thin lips pressed into a straight line, an expression characteristic of concentration.
"Song Xingran."
The hair dryer stopped: "Hmm?"
"What were you checking?"
The air froze for a second.
When the hairdryer started up again, his voice was a little blurry in the noise: "I told you, about the team."
"Are you looking for visiting scholars in the Department of Astrophysics?"
Drops of water slid down the woman's temples, dripping down her chin and onto her collarbone.
Song Xingran's eyes followed the drop of water until it disappeared deep into her collar. He suddenly reached out and grasped the back of her neck, stroking the delicate skin with his thumb.
"Teacher Wen, are you sure you want to discuss this now?"
The cord of the hair dryer was tangled between the two of them, like some kind of invisible shackle.
Wen Mu looked up at him and asked, "Why are you investigating the old professor?"
"I'm worried."
"Why are you worried?"
The man came closer and hugged her waist: "There are too many bad people outside. I'm afraid you will be kidnapped."
"Really?" Wen Mu sneered, "I think you're the worst."
Song Xingran bent down and lifted her onto his shoulders. As the world spun, Wen Mu only had time to grab the fabric of his clothes on his back.
The man walked to the bed in two or three steps, gently threw her into the duvet, and stood by the bed without moving.
"I'll sleep in the guest room." He clenched his fists white as he turned around. "You get some rest."
Wen Mu stood up: "Stop."
Song Xingran's back froze.
"Turn around," she ordered.
The man said in a hoarse voice: "You were tired last night, so have a good rest today."
"I didn't say what I was going to do."
"Then don't tease me, dear."
Wen Muqi laughed: "No, what did I do to seduce you?"
Song Xingran said nothing, but just looked at her with a sullen gaze, as if he wanted to eat her alive.
Wen Mu was frightened by being stared at. He pulled the quilt over himself and ordered, "Go out and read. Don't disturb me."
After a long while, he finally uttered a muffled "hmm".
Wen Mu shook his head.
What a bad temper.
dislike.
*
Zurich in March still carried the chill of late winter. Wen Mu, wrapped tightly in a camel-colored cashmere coat, stood beneath the arches of the ETH main building. The Gothic spire pierced the gray-blue sky, and melodious bells chimed in the distance.
Exactly the same as when she left four years ago.
The early cherry blossoms on campus were already blooming, their pink and white petals falling on her shoulders. Wen Mu reached out and brushed them away, her fingertips touching the cool petals.
"Dr. Wen?" A tentative greeting in German came from behind.
Wen Mu turned around and saw a young girl wearing round-framed glasses.
"I'm Lina, an assistant in Professor Schmidt's project team," the girl said shyly, extending her hand. "Professor Schmidt said you'd be coming today, so he asked me to pick you up. Let's go to his place first."
Wen Mu's pace unconsciously slowed as she crossed the cobblestoned central courtyard. The physics building on her left was brightly lit, where she had spent countless sleepless nights. The cafe on her right had changed its decor, but the window seat remained—it was there where she had completed the final chapter of her doctoral dissertation.
"Did you study here before?" Lina noticed her gaze.
"Yeah." Wen Mu nodded. "To be precise, I haven't fully graduated yet. Professor Schmidt is my advisor."
Lina's eyes widened. "So you're the Chinese student Professor Schmidt always mentioned! Professor Maximilian still has a copy of your manuscript on solving the Penrose conjecture hanging on the wall of his office!"
Wen Mu smiled.
She doesn't think she is the most talented student in the astronomy department, but she has always received praise and attention throughout her years of study.
She admitted that it made her happy.
Professor Schmidt's office is on the top floor. When he opened the door, sunlight poured into the entire room through the floor-to-ceiling windows.
The white-haired old professor looked up from the microscope, and his blue eyes lit up the moment he saw Wen Mu.
"Luna!" He opened his arms. "You finally came back to see an old man like me!"
Wen Mu was embraced in an embrace with the scent of cologne, and the professor's white coat rubbed against her cheek, just as rough as she remembered.
"Professor, you look the same."
"Nonsense." He pinched her shoulder, "You've changed."
He took a step back and looked at her carefully. "Let me see. Her hair has grown longer, her glasses have changed, and…"
“Aha!”
Wen Mu stepped back subconsciously: "What's wrong?"
"Here." Schmidt nodded to the left side of his neck and winked slyly. "Is anyone finally learning to enjoy life?"
Wen Mu's fingertips touched the kiss mark that had not yet completely faded, and his ears felt hot.
Before going out this morning, Song Xingran insisted that her turtleneck sweater was not warm enough and forced her to put a scarf around her - it turned out that he had other intentions.
"Professor, I'm married." She confessed directly to avoid further embarrassment.
The old professor's eyes widened at first, then he slammed the table and stood up, shaking the microscope.
"Oh my God! Which warrior conquered my Ice Princess?"
"He's a racing driver." Wen Mu pursed his lips, "Five years younger than me."
The old professor burst into laughter and almost choked on his own saliva.
"Luna!" He wiped his eyes, "I've told you before that your future partner will most likely be a man younger than you."
"See, I'm right, right?"
Wen Mu smiled helplessly.
"Are there any photos?"
Wen Mu took out his cell phone and flipped to the only group photo in the album.
Professor Schmidt put on his reading glasses and looked at it carefully, with the corners of his mouth curling higher and higher.
"I suppose," he said in deliberately broken Chinese, "this is what you call a 'match made in heaven'?"
Wen Mu lowered his head and drank a sip of water without saying a word.
A match made in heaven?
It’s almost the same if you do it every day.
Two hours later, Wen Mu walked out of the office carrying a thick stack of documents. Lina was waiting outside and led her to Professor Schmidt's project team work area.
"The project team meets every Tuesday and Thursday afternoon," the girl said as she walked over. "Professor Schmidt said you can directly participate in the core data analysis of Kepler-13b."
Seven or eight people were already sitting in the conference room, and Wen Mu immediately recognized several familiar faces from ETH. The new members looked at her curiously. When Lina introduced her as "Professor Schneider's protégé, Dr. Wen, who solved the Penrose conjecture," a brown-haired boy dropped his coffee cup.
"Impossible!" he exclaimed. "You look no more than twenty-five!"
"Twenty-nine." Wen Mu smiled, "And married."
Even old acquaintances were shocked.
Sarah covered her chest exaggeratedly. "Wait, Luna, the one who rejected my brother three times? Is she married?"
Wen Mu pushed his glasses up, the tips of his ears reddening. "Can we start the project briefing?"
For the next two weeks, Wen Mu absorbed the knowledge in her new field like a sponge. Although her research direction was different from her previous work, her solid theoretical foundation allowed her to quickly catch up. Every morning, she was the first one to arrive at the lab, and when she left late at night, the security guards had become accustomed to holding the door open for her.
"You don't have to work so hard." During the third week's group meeting, the professor frowned at her dark circles under her eyes. "Data modeling can be done slowly."
Wen Mu shook his head: "I want to complete the baseline analysis as soon as possible."
What she didn't say was that Song Xingran was going to Italy next week to test the new car, and she hoped to make time to accompany him then.
*
One Friday evening, the professor announced that he would treat all members to dinner.
Wen Mu glanced at his phone. It was seven o'clock sharp, and Song Xingran should have been home.
"Sorry," she said, packing up her notebook, "I have an appointment today."
Sarah winked. "With my husband?"
“Yes.”
"Wedding anniversary."
The conference room erupted in good-natured heckling.
"Go home!" Schmidt waved his hand. "Give my regards to that brave young man."
The subway car swayed slightly, and Wen Mu stared at her phone screen. The last message in the dialog box was the one she had sent that afternoon:
【Will you come back for dinner tonight? 】
Song Xingran's reply was simple and clear:
【Return】
Last week's Bahrain Grand Prix was the opening race of the new season. Song Xingran made a rare mistake at the last corner, handing over the championship that was almost in his hands.
She was unable to watch the live broadcast due to time difference. When she saw the news, the man in the video took off his helmet, his black hair was soaked with sweat, and his mouth was tightly tightened when answering reporters' questions.
"There's a problem with the car's tuning." He said this on the phone that night, but Wen Mu could tell that he was hiding something.
The phone vibrates and a new message pops up:
Mars Brother: [Are you home yet? ]
Jupiter: [Ten minutes left.]
Mars Brother: [Got it]
The familiar platform appeared outside the window, and Wen Mu joined the crowd as she got off the train. The March night breeze was still chilly, so she wrapped her coat tightly around her and walked quickly towards her apartment.
The fingerprint lock unlocked with a "click" sound, and the inside of the door was pitch black.
"Song Xingran?" She fumbled for the switch on the wall.
Suddenly, her glasses were taken off, and a pair of warm hands covered her eyes from behind, and a faint scent of cedar surrounded her.
"Don't turn on the light." Song Xingran's voice sounded next to her ear, his breath hot.
Wen Mu understood.
"What new tricks have you prepared?"
"I can't tell you." The silky ribbon covered her eyes, and the man deftly tied a knot. "But you can guess."
"Too few clues." Wen Mu said deliberately, feeling his fingertips lingering on her earlobe, causing a slight tremor.
Song Xingran chuckled and took her hand: "Follow me."
In the darkness, other senses were amplified. Wen Mu counted her steps—through the hallway (three steps), around the coffee table (two steps to the right). The feel of the carpet vanished from under her feet, replaced by the cool wood floor. Something wet touched the hem of her trousers.
Finally, she seemed to stop in the middle of the living room.
The man put his arms around her waist from behind and rested his chin on her shoulder.
"Are you ready?" His voice was a little hoarse.
Wen Mu nodded, his heart beating faster.
Song Xingran's fingers touched the bow at the back of her head, but he didn't untie it immediately. The hot air sprayed on her earlobes, making her shiver.
"Wife."
"Happy anniversary."
-----------------------
The author has something to say: This young master is really jealous very easily!
Next chapter, hehehe, the young master cooks the meal himself [evil smile][evil smile]
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