Chapter 17 Keep the small sofa away
Remembering to control her facial expressions, Wen Zhiling asked without changing her expression, "See you early? Today?"
Zong Linhan: "You want to see me today?"
I think we should never see each other again. Wen Zhiling said, "I will follow the organization's arrangements."
Zong Linhan suppressed his discomfort and said, "We haven't set a time yet, but it should be in the next few days. We'll have a simple meal with the other guests and introduce you to them."
Wen Zhiling went back, hugged the two stacks of documents to her arms, and left with Zong Linhan.
After starting the car, Zong Linhan asked, "Are you a fan of celebrities?"
"I haven't paid much attention to it. I usually just hear about it from people at the store, and I've only recently caught up on some related news." Wen Zhiling looked down and fastened her seatbelt. "What's wrong?"
The black car drove out of the underground parking garage, and the view ahead gradually brightened. Zong Lin tapped the steering wheel with his fingers. "It's nothing. If you're a fan, you might still have a chance to get an autograph or two."
The car stopped in front of the detached villa. When Wen Zhiling woke up, she thought she had been sold to the experimental base.
Why did you bring me to your house?
As the two walked in through the garden path, they were greeted by understated luxury. The living room had a high ceiling and floor-to-ceiling windows offering panoramic views of the river. The daytime light and shadow were excellent, with the shimmering water reflecting off the white walls.
The carpet was thick, and the sofa was made of off-white genuine leather with a unique design. Wen Zhiling had seen it in a home decor magazine; it was a masterpiece by an independent designer from abroad. Further back was a wall of bookshelves displaying trophies from different periods.
An art poster hangs on the wall, featuring a film starring Zong Linhan from a few years ago. He's shirtless, his profile sharp, and the poster is blurred and fragmented, giving him the appearance of someone about to vanish, with a unique sci-fi feel. The film behind this poster holds many meanings: it boosted his fame in art-house films, showcased his acting skills and precise emotional control, and made him a beloved figure in the hearts of many.
Zong Linhan casually tossed his baseball cap and glasses onto the table. "Help me."
Wen Zhiling: "How can I help you?"
He walked to the sofa, reached out and unbuttoned his shirt. "The first-aid kit is in the cabinet next to you."
Under the sunlight, Zong Linhan's back muscles tightened, revealing a deep wound that started from his shoulder blade and extended down his back. The wound had scabbed over, but it was still a shocking sight.
Wen Zhiling found the first-aid kit. "How did you get this done? When did you get hurt?"
Moreover, there was no smell of blood at all. Logically, she should have been able to smell it since he was injured.
"It hurts so much." Zong Linhan closed his eyes, knowing what she wanted to ask. "I had an injection to suppress it."
"You can't use that stuff too often, can you?" Wen Zhiling took out cotton swabs, iodine, and gauze. Zong Linhan glanced at them and said, "Don't use iodine. The white bottle contains a special medicine."
"Did you do this on set?"
That shouldn't be the case; they would have been taken to the hospital long ago.
The special medicine touched the edge of the wound, and the man's body tensed slightly, his back trembling slightly. Zong Linhan said in a low voice, "The Bureau of Surveillance had a rather tricky matter, so I went to help."
Wen Zhiling: "Do the families of the Surveillance Bureau have to work this hard? What are you going there for? To perform for the little monsters? Or do they have your fans too?"
What Zong Linhan wanted to say was that he had helped Director Yu solve a tricky case these past few days, selflessly dedicating himself without claiming any credit, and only returning home to apply medicine to avoid attracting attention. But he hadn't expected Wen Zhiling to misunderstand him as a family member helping out. He was unsure if now was the right time to tell him that he was more than just a family member.
Zong Linhan: "Would you discriminate against the families of members of the Surveillance Bureau?"
Wen Zhiling: "Of course not!"
Just as Zong Linhan was about to speak, Wen Zhiling said, "How could I be worthy of discrimination? I'd rather run away than dare to do that."
The cotton swab pressed a little too hard on the wound, and Zong Linhan's breath hitched, his arm muscles tensed, and he turned his head to the side, saying, "I think you're quite daring."
Wen Zhiling ignored the minor incident just now, saying, "You're just a family member, so keep a low profile."
Perhaps having been reminded, the cotton swabs became very careful on his back, like gently scratching with a feather, dabbing left and right, especially since the person applying the medicine was his (ex-)girlfriend, who looked very serious. Just thinking about the two of them now sharing a room in his house made Zong Linhan's thoughts wander.
He cleared his throat. "How long are you going to dawdle? I'm not that delicate. I'll just apply it casually."
"Who cares if it hurts or not? What if you spill it on your sofa?" Wen Zhiling said, "Otherwise, you can lie down on the floor, and if the floor gets dirty, you can just mop it up."
Zong Linhan found it amusing that a sofa was more noble than him. "Just throw it away if it gets dirty."
Wen Zhiling: "Your sofa looks expensive, unlike my old, shabby sofa."
When the topic of the shabby sofa came up, Wen Zhiling stopped abruptly.
The atmosphere became subtly ambiguous, and even the rise and fall of breathing became clear.
Zong Linhan rested his head on his arm, turned his head to look at her, and gave her a half-smile.
The room was kept at a comfortable temperature, but Wen Zhiling still felt hot.
Zong Linhan's voice was lazy, deliberately drawing out the tone, "I really miss that little sofa."
Zong Linhan: "Although it's small, it's a bit cramped for two people, but..."
Wen Zhiling: "..."
Zong Linhan said slowly, "It's quite warm to squeeze together when it's cold, but..."
He squinted his eyes slightly, "I prefer to squeeze in when it's hot."
Wen Zhiling ruthlessly poked him with a cotton swab, and Zong Linhan chuckled for a long time while nestled in his arms.
After a while, he turned to the side and asked, "Was there anything you didn't understand about what Chen Pingping said today?"
To avoid him making a grand entrance with the sofa, Wen Zhiling continued the conversation, saying, "Could you introduce the guests to me? What's your relationship with the other guests like? What are they like as people? Are there any sensitive points or things to be aware of?"
Zong Linhan: "Whose opinion do you want to hear first?"
Wen Zhiling took out her phone from her pocket and opened the PDF file that her manager, Chen, had thoughtfully sent her. The first file contained photos of Zong Linhan and herself, and the second file contained photos of Li Xu.
Wen Zhiling remained calm and said, "Just go ahead and say them one by one in order."
Zong Linhan took the phone, flipped through a few pages, and then slowly said, "This Li Xu."
Wen Zhiling: "Mm."
Zong Linhan: "I don't get along with him."
Wen Zhiling: "..."
Zong Linhan: "If you see him, stay away from him."
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