*
Song Beiting got into Nan Qing's car and went home with her.
The door slammed shut behind him. He stood in the entryway, clutching the strap of his backpack, looking somewhat nervous.
How could I have... actually gone home with her?
"Song Beiting, these slippers are for you."
Nan Qing's voice pulled him back to reality. A pair of brand-new men's slippers were placed in front of him. They were dark gray and had a simple and elegant design. But after staring at the slippers for two seconds, he felt a lump in his throat.
Why would she keep men's slippers at home...?
Despite the sour feeling, he silently took off his sneakers, obediently put them on, and followed him inside.
Song Beiting followed him closely, his eyes secretly taking in the unfamiliar space.
The apartment is huge, probably five times the size of his house. The living room has a large floor-to-ceiling window with a dazzling night view outside.
Everything was luxuriously arranged and decorated, yet simple; at present... there seemed to be no trace of a man's life there...
Nan Qing walked to the refrigerator and turned to look at Song Beiting behind her.
Are you hungry?
He wasn't actually hungry, but he nodded anyway: "Mmm."
Nan Qing opened the refrigerator and looked inside. There were drinks of various flavors, fruits, eggs, and lots and lots of carrots, but no vegetables or other ingredients.
"Song Beiting, can you cook?"
Watching her retreating figure, Song Beiting nodded, then realized she couldn't see him, and whispered in reply:
"meeting."
"What would you like to eat, senior?"
Nan Qing moved half a step to the side to make room and pulled him forward.
"I'm a little hungry too, what can I make with these things?"
Nan Qing held his wrist tightly, not letting go. The warmth of her wrist calmed Song Beiting's wandering thoughts for a moment.
He was standing very close to her, and the faint fragrance kept wafting towards his nose, but remembering that she had just said she was hungry, Song Beiting forced himself to focus his attention on the refrigerator in front of him.
There wasn't much food in the refrigerator, but there was plenty of meat in the frozen section. He picked up a box of steak, checked the date, and saw it was from last month, which was acceptable.
"...Senior, would you like some steak?"
Song Beiting was very tall, at least half a head taller than Nan Qing, but he always seemed a little awkward in front of her, as if he was afraid of being rejected.
Unlike him, Nan Qing was very casual and natural when she was with him, which unconsciously revealed a bit of intimacy and unintentionally brought the two of them closer.
Just like now, she moved closer to him, tugged at his arm, glanced at the steak he was holding, and nodded.
"Okay, I'll have it medium-rare."
Their bodies were almost touching, which made Song Beiting stiffen for a moment. Upon hearing the reply, he quickly took out two boxes of steak from the refrigerator, turned around as if he had been granted a pardon, and strode towards the kitchen stove.
He needed some distance to calm his racing heart.
Nan Qing didn't leave, but leaned against the island platform, watching him busy. She would look at his slender fingers for a while, and then at his lowered eyelashes, her gaze always lingering on him.
"Do you cook often?" she suddenly asked.
Song Beiting continued working on his hands and replied, "Yes, I live alone at home."
His gaze was fixed on the steak in the pan, which was gradually turning caramel-colored. He didn't dare to look up, afraid that she would find out that he was lying.
He didn't want her to know that he had such a terrible family.
He worked quickly, and within ten minutes, two medium-rare steaks were served.
Even though there wasn't much food in the refrigerator, he still painstakingly arranged it on a plate: a caramel-colored steak, a golden-yellow fried egg, and a few halved cherry tomatoes on the side.
Nan Qing also poured some of the decanted red wine, but stopped when handing it to her and asked:
"By the way, can you drink alcohol?"
"I....."
Song Beiting doesn't actually drink alcohol; in fact, due to family reasons, he dislikes alcohol.
but.....
Looking at the pale fingertips on the wine glass in front of him, he reached out and took the glass of red wine, hearing himself say, "I can drink some, thank you, senior..."
Nan Qing poured herself a glass, swirled it gently, looked at him across from her, and said softly:
"You don't have to force yourself if you don't like it."
She knew about his family background, but she hoped he could face everything he hated and not be trapped by his family of origin.
One's own likes and dislikes should be decided by oneself.
It's not because of a particular person that you dislike a certain thing or phenomenon.
There's no need to force yourself to cater to her preferences.
Song Beiting didn't know what Nan Qing meant, but he sensed that she could refuse.
But he shook his head, picked up his wine glass, and took a sip.
The sour liquid slid down my throat, and a unique aroma flowed back from the back of my nose, carrying a hint of smoke.
It's hard to say whether it tastes good or bad.
But the next moment, a sliced steak came into his view.
He looked up and saw Nan Qing holding a small piece of steak with a silver fork to his lips, gesturing for him to eat it.
"Red wine with steak, give it a try."
She spoke frankly and her movements were natural, without a trace of ambiguity, as if she didn't realize that it was an overly intimate gesture that might lead people to overthink things.
Logically, he should politely accept the knife and fork, or politely decline, or ask her to place the steak on the plate in front of him.
But for some reason, he just didn't want to.
After only a half-second hesitation, Song Beiting leaned over and took a bite of the steak.
The spiciness of the black pepper on his tongue was somewhat burning, but it couldn't compare to the burning sensation in his heart at that moment.
Nan Qing, still holding the fork, looked at him and asked, "How is it?"
".....very good."
"Thank you, senior..."
Seeing that he didn't seem to mind the taste, Nan Qing withdrew her hand and continued cutting the steak on her plate with her knife and fork.
Song Beiting stared at her fingers, watching the fork tip disappear into her red lips. His face flushed slightly. He picked up the wine glass beside him and took a big gulp of red wine.
Now, I really can't taste the wine anymore.
…
After finishing their steak, Song Beiting took it upon himself to clean up the mess, and Nan Qing didn't stand on ceremony either, leaning back on the sofa with her eyes half-closed.
So sleepy...
By the time Song Beiting had packed everything up, it was almost two o'clock.
He returned to the living room, looked down at Nan Qing on the sofa, and was somewhat at a loss for what to do.
She fell asleep.
Her long hair was spread out on the off-white sofa, as beautiful as splashed ink. She breathed very lightly, and one hand was curled up next to her cheek, pressing down on her cheek fat, which made her look even more adorable.
Song Beiting reached out, intending to carry her back to the bedroom to sleep, but stopped just before touching her.
This is not good; he shouldn't have crossed the line.
My gaze swept across the living room, finally settling on the fluffy scarf draped over the back of the sofa.
He carefully took it and gently covered Nan Qing's body with it.
When he got close to her, he didn't even dare to breathe, for fear that he would disturb her sweet dream.
For a fleeting moment, he and she were very close.
He was so close that he could feel her breath on his face.
It's warm and has a nice fragrance.
It also made him somewhat impulsive.
He moved closer, almost touching her nose.
But in the end, he still distanced himself from her.
Song Beiting knelt on the carpet, leaned over the edge of the sofa, rested his chin on his arm, and quietly gazed at her sleeping face.
If he could, he would love for time to stand still at this moment.
There are no differences in status, no complicated realities, only a quiet night.
And her, so close....
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