Chapter 4 Should we meet? What do you think I care about?
"Oh my god, is he—"
"Keep your voice down!"
The filming crew booked the entire store. There were very few people in the courtyard, and Zong Linhan could be spotted at a glance. The girls immediately turned into shy, screaming chickens, secretly taking quick photos with their phones.
The glass door opened, and a middle-aged man walked out. This man was none other than Producer Liang, a good friend of Zong Linhan's father and Uncle Liang who was very worried about his health. Zong Linhan was delivering local specialties to his father on the way, and Producer Liang grabbed him and wouldn't let go, pushing him into the coffee shop, "Sit down and have a drink. Every time I see your Uncle Liang, I run away. Today I won't treat you to drinks, I'll treat you to coffee."
It's hard to refuse someone's request, so Zong Linhan smiled and agreed.
The girls excitedly pushed and shoved each other behind the counter, trying to give up the chance to see the celebrities up close. They really wanted to join in the fun, but were too shy to do so.
Producer Liang raised his chin, and the female artist quickly came over to greet the senior. Producer Liang shook his head and sighed, "Could you give this young artist some guidance? Her expression just doesn't seem quite right."
He summoned the cameraman and showed Zong Linhan the photos in the lens, saying, "I always said she should stand guard at the city gate, so heroic and unyielding. Why is she trying to get into idol dramas? She's not as natural as you talented types."
His voice carried a hint of disappointment, "You seemed quite natural when I was with you in the theater troupe, so why did you become so reserved after officially signing the contract? I'm starting a business at my age, and you're the only promising talent I have under my agency. You need to step up your game."
The artist was a little embarrassed, but Zong Linhan spoke gently to ease the awkward atmosphere. His voice wasn't loud, but to Wen Zhiling at that moment, it was as if he were speaking right in her ear.
Since inexplicably becoming a vampire three years ago, her body has undergone a series of changes without any explanation or guidance. She lives in a fog, the only thing she can figure out being that being near Zong Linhan improves her hearing and intensifies her craving for blood. For example, right now, just hearing Zong Linhan's voice sends shivers down her spine; that unique, vivid memory spreads through her entire body. He is someone she absolutely cannot get close to again.
"You're really not interested? You're really not going to join the fun?" the store manager teased. "He seems like a nice guy. I should have asked you to deliver the coffee earlier. Stop badmouthing him online. Being a keyboard warrior isn't healthy."
Wen Zhiling turned her back to wipe the kitchen counter, barely managing to stay upright. The stronger aromas of coffee and cream couldn't overpower the sensory stimulation; the citrus scent drilled into her nerves, and the sounds roared in her ears, tearing at her mind.
The store manager noticed that Wen Zhiling's back was trembling slightly, so she took an extra step forward and asked, "Why is your face so red? Are you alright?"
"Are these coffee beans homemade in the shop?"
A familiar and pleasant voice came from the other side of the wall. Wen Zhiling bit her lip, suppressing the urge to explode at the small wound on her tip of the tongue.
Zong Linhan complimented the coffee, saying it was delicious. Producer Liang then proudly brought him to see the coffee beans, saying it was a hidden gem shop with beautiful decor and frequent interesting cultural and creative events.
Seeing the customer looking at the beans, the shop manager quickly introduced them to the customer himself. Fortunately, Zong Linhan was very busy, and Producer Liang did not really intend to keep him for long. The wind chimes at the door rang, Zong Linhan pushed the door open and came out. Wen Zhiling's tense nerves relaxed, her legs were a little weak, and she was covered in sweat.
As Zong Linhan opened the car door, he glanced back. The coffee shop's exterior was enclosed by a glass conservatory, where sunlight refracted, creating a dazzling, diamond-like effect. But what drew his attention wasn't the building's shape, but a strange, familiar longing, something he couldn't quite put his finger on, like a feather tickling his heart, leaving his throat slightly dry.
Meng Run turned his head: "Captain, what are you looking at?"
Zong Linhan looked away and closed the car door. "It's nothing."
-
Whenever she had a break, Wen Zhiling would visit Aunt Qiao at the hospital, chat with her, and sometimes Qiao Yan would also be there. The two of them would have a meal together and take a walk. Their days were peaceful and uneventful, as calm and beautiful as a gentle breeze.
The sun is shining brightly today, and many patients are sunbathing in the rooftop garden.
Wen Zhiling brought another box of supplements today. Qiao Yan felt a heavy weight in her hands and in her heart when she took it.
He couldn't help but say, "It must be very expensive. Your salary isn't very high, and you don't need to bring it every time you come."
She had prepared her lines in advance: "My store manager asked a friend to get these from out of town; they're half the price of what you'd get here."
Whether it was the truth or a lie, Qiao Yan could tell right away. He was also adept at using this kind of discount pricing tactic with his mother. Qiao Yan sighed deeply. He had a clean and handsome appearance. Before the incident at home, he was the boy who was secretly watched by girls in the library. Since the pressure of life came, his clothes had become more wrinkled, and he occasionally neglected to groom his stubble.
Wen Zhiling glanced at him, "Brother Qiao Yan, don't be so formal. If it weren't for you and Auntie taking me in, I might be wandering somewhere."
The three words "Brother Qiao Yan" were calmly uttered by Wen Zhiling, making Qiao Yan's heart feel like it was filled with cement, so heavy that it felt like his stomach was about to fall to the ground.
He gave a wry smile, "Back then..."
Three years ago, on a night of torrential rain, Qiao's Noodle Shop turned off its lights before closing.
Suddenly, a loud bang came from the back door!
Qiao Yan hurriedly opened the back door. Rain fell like a beaded curtain, and a dark shadow swayed vaguely under the jeep.
He thought it was a stray cat, but when he shone his flashlight into the darkness, he was surprised to see the outline of a girl!
The girl immediately buried herself in her arms, her curled-up back trembling, like a frightened little animal, extremely tense and terrified.
Her black hooded sweatshirt and jeans were torn in several places, revealing raw, bloody flesh on her arms and thighs. The girl, who looked no more than seventeen or eighteen years old, was huddled awkwardly under the car, her bent knees soaked with what appeared to be rainwater or blood.
Qiao Yan took a step back helplessly. The girl tried to move her body to escape, but her hands were weak and she couldn't even support her body.
Aunt Qiao came over with a flashlight. "Qiao Yan, what happened? Is it the cat?"
Qiao Yan had only ever seen blood-covered mice in the lab, so seeing a human suffering like this left him momentarily stunned. Sweat beaded on his forehead as he murmured, "Cat...cat?"
Under the car, the girl who was about to run away stopped, her face covered in mud, facing him, her eyes clear and bright. A voice, not too loud, sounded, with a bittersweet mockery, "Meow meow meow?"
"It really is a cat..." Aunt Qiao paused, bumping into Qiao Yan's shoulder as he stood there dumbfounded. "What are you standing there for? Help!"
...
"I've never asked, but you've kept saying you'll be free in three years. Are you hiding from the person who hurt you?"
Actually, it wasn't that I didn't want to ask, but when I first helped Wen Zhiling, I saw that she didn't really want to talk about it. Aunt Qiao was kind-hearted and told Qiao Yan not to ask around.
“I’m not sure.” Wen Zhiling paused for a moment, which was uncommon. “Although judging from the timeline, it might be him, even if he did it unintentionally.”
Wen Zhiling looked away, her hand reaching for the grass in the potted plant—a habitual gesture of hers to avoid further conversation. Qiao Yan stopped there, not pressing her further.
The two strolled and chatted along the terrace. After a while, the caregiver called Qiao Yan, saying that the doctor was looking for a family member. Qiao Yan told Wen Zhiling to sunbathe for a while and wait for him.
She strolled around the hospital's terrace area and met a nurse along the way. Seeing that she seemed to have some free time, she asked her if she could help fill out an opinion survey form.
There were quite a few questions. Wen Zhiling originally wanted to write them down and hand them in at the consultation desk, but the nurse smiled and said it was fine, she could take a break and relax.
Wen Zhiling vaguely felt it was quite strange. Aren't all forms filled out using QR codes these days? But when she heard the nurse say cutely that it was a good way to slack off, she thought she was overthinking it. There are also hospitals that are used to using traditional paper documents.
After filling out the form and handing it to the nurse, Wen Zhiling felt a sharp pain in her fingertip. The paper was sharp and had cut her hand, leaving a small gash. A few drops of blood stained the white paper. The nurse apologized repeatedly, but Wen Zhiling said it was nothing; sometimes you get cut by paper. Especially since the wound was so small, it healed in no time.
Wen Zhiling leaned against the railing and looked at the sky, calculating that there were only seven days left. Last time, she almost ran into Zong Linhan and nearly failed. Fortunately, she managed to avoid him.
Three years ago, when she first fell ill, a mysterious person gave her an inhibitor and left a message telling her that the next three years were crucial. If she avoided blood packs and Zong Linhan, she could get rid of her current suffering.
The wind ruffled her hair, and Wen Zhiling closed her eyes to feel the beauty; life was still full of hope.
-
After finishing his last set of training, Zong Linhan unloaded the barbell, the metal striking the ground with a dull, solid sound. Morning sunlight streamed into the training room, reflecting his sweat-soaked figure in the mirror; beads of sweat rolled down his back muscles, disappearing silently at the edge of his workout pants.
Sweat rolled down his brow bone and slipped from his eyelashes. He raised his hand to wipe it away with a towel, his arm muscles tense, the bulging veins exuding power.
The wall clock struck six, the deafening rock music stopped, and the bathroom light came on. His forehead rested lightly on the tiles, the shower water washing over his shapely body. Zong Linhan closed his eyes; neither the noise nor the sound of the water in the enclosed space could silence the voices in his mind.
Like a machine implanted with a virus, no matter what it does, thinks, or hears, it cannot resist the strange urge to hug someone.
He opened his eyes restlessly, and as his thoughts drifted back to those enchanting moments of the past, his body inevitably reacted. He'd experienced this before, but ever since the strange sensation he'd felt at the coffee shop, it had become increasingly severe. He turned the shower knob, and the warm, misty water turned icy cold, a way of combating the surging desire.
After emerging from the bathroom, feeling icy cold, Zong Linhan poured himself a cup of hot coffee and leaned against the floor-to-ceiling window, watching the bustling city as it woke up. The landmark buildings of the new district were faintly visible in the morning mist. He had been dreaming about her a lot lately.
He had so many questions to ask, yet he couldn't figure out if he still wanted to see her. In the dead of night, he reminded himself that a heartless person who could leave so easily didn't deserve to be remembered. But as the sun rose in the morning and set in the evening, in every familiar detail of his life, he couldn't help but think of her.
As the morning mist dissipated and sunlight shone through the window, its warmth failed to reach his heart. The coffee in his palm had gone cold, and Zong Linhan drank the icy, bitter beverage.
-
In the service hall of the Bureau of Investigation, a staff member at the window said to Chen Pingping, "Please wait a moment while I contact the office."
Chen Pingping wiped the sweat from her forehead. "Okay, no rush."
He walked to the bench and sat down, tucking his black leather bag into his arms. His shoulders hunched slightly, and his anxious heart and trembling thighs created a rhythm.
The footsteps of people coming and going in the lobby were calm, but they sounded like gunshots to him, a sense of impending danger. Chen Pingping was like a snail placed on a seat, shrinking as much as possible into a corner, only daring to steal a few glances. When his fleeting gaze met the security guard's blatant scrutiny, he immediately lowered his head.
He is Zong Linhan's manager, having followed him since his debut. True to his name, he is of average appearance, average ability, and average family background. Many in the industry envy his good fortune; an ordinary newbie, his first job managing a celebrity's child, zero scandals, no trouble, never late, good reputation in the industry—his job couldn't be easier.
What outsiders don't know is that this job isn't for just anyone. The most important reason he was able to get the job was that he had an uncle who worked in the Bureau of Surveillance, which gave him experience in participating in training for relatives.
The gate's boom lifts, and a black armored riot control vehicle drives in. The engine roars to a halt, the doors open, and four fully armed special police officers jump out.
Chen Pingping peeked out and saw a man with his limbs bound being helped down. He was wearing a black hood and had blood seeping from multiple places on his body, which flowed down his trouser legs and onto the ground, forming a small pool of blood.
A SWAT officer gave the hooded man a push from behind, urging him to move forward. The man paused, turned around, and said something. The next second, all four officers simultaneously drew their police guns.
A flash of lightning and a agonizing scream rang out simultaneously, so terrifying that Chen Pingping fell to the ground, his hands trembling uncontrollably as he braced himself. The training had described superhumans as terrifying, but in his view, weren't those who could subdue this group of superhumans even more terrifying?
The staff member approached unfazed, speaking in a businesslike tone, "Hello, this way please."
Chen Pingping scrambled upstairs, slipped, and grabbed the railing; her back was completely soaked.
"I'm sorry, I have meetings all day, so I'll have to trouble you to make this special trip." Zong Linhan sat behind his desk, which was piled high with documents. He flipped through one of them, confirmed it was correct, and then signed his name.
After putting down the hot tea, the secretary left the room. Outside the window, the leaves of the trees were thick, the wind rustling through them, creating a vibrant green. The scribbling of pens on paper added to the quiet atmosphere, as if all danger had been kept outside.
Chen Pingping looked at Zong Linhan and couldn't understand it either. This screen image was always gentle and harmless, like someone who needed to be protected. In real life, however, he was a strong protector, invincible, giving people a sense of security from the bottom of their hearts.
Zong Linhan looked up: "Hmm?"
Chen Pingping stared at him blankly, "Huh?"
Zong Linhan chuckled. "What was the matter we discussed on the phone yesterday that required face-to-face communication?"
Chen Pingping realized what was happening, "Oh, oh!"
He quickly opened his briefcase, took out a stack of planning proposals, and in his haste, his hand bumped into a small mountain of documents, which then tumbled onto the table.
He hurriedly tried to tidy up, but Zong Linhan finished first. His tone was not accusatory, but rather gentle, as if he were comforting him, "I'll take care of it."
A note from the author:
----------------------
Thank you for the nutrient solution, babies -3-
The young couple should be able to meet in the next chapter.
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