Hu Moli smiled faintly, "Then I'm the first one."
Looking at the sweet smile on her face, Chen Hede suddenly felt a little unfamiliar.
That smile seemed to be one he had never seen before.
He had seen Hu Moli smile at those high-ranking officials and nobles, her eyes sparkling, her red lips slightly parted, and her beautiful face always bearing a perfectly symmetrical smile.
But in that smile, one could always see a hint of weariness that couldn't be hidden, a three-tenths genuine sincerity, and a six or seven-tenths feigned insincerity, like medicine coated in sugar, sweet to look at but bitter in reality.
At this moment, her smile was faint and gentle, as if it came from the bottom of her heart, pure and without a trace of calculation.
The smile didn't reach his eyes; a deep sadness shrouded them like mist, indistinct yet palpable.
Chen Hede's hand seemed to have a mind of its own, and it involuntarily rose up.
As his fingertips drew closer to her cheek, only one thought crossed his mind: How could such a beautiful face be tainted with that inexplicable unease?
The moment his fingertips touched her warm skin, like a feather brushing the surface of water, Hu Moli recoiled as if burned, taking half a step back.
The hem of her plain white cheongsam swayed slightly. She subconsciously raised her hand to the spot where she had just been touched, her eyes filled with panic, like a startled sparrow.
The teahouse fell silent instantly, so quiet that you could hear the flower girls calling out from outside the window.
The two stood facing each other, Chen Hede's outstretched hand still frozen in mid-air, his fingertips seemingly still retaining a trace of that fleeting warmth.
Hu Moli lowered her head, her long eyelashes drooping down, concealing the turbulent emotions in her eyes.
The lingering aroma of tea filled the air, but there was an inexplicable awkwardness, like ripples on a pond that lingered for a long time.
Hu Moli was the first to react, and turned around in a panic, "Master... I'll go pick out some gifts and deliver them to the Cheng residence."
Hu Moli's hand was already on the bamboo curtain, her fingertips about to touch the cool bamboo strips, when Chen Hede's voice suddenly came from behind her: "Hu Moli."
She paused, turned around in confusion, and her eyes still held a lingering sense of bewilderment.
Chen Hede looked at her, his Adam's apple bobbing slightly, his lips pursed, looking somewhat unnatural, as if he had to exert some effort to say the following words: "After things are settled at the Cheng Mansion, let's go to the Pear Garden to watch a play together. Today is Mei Heming's last performance before he leaves."
Hu Moli was taken aback at first, then a light smile appeared in her eyes, as if the embarrassment from before had been washed away by the smile.
She raised her hand to tidy her temples, her tone playful: "What a coincidence, I already had someone book a private room on the second floor. Don't try to take the best spot from me, sir."
Chen Hede looked at the light that had returned to her eyes, nodded slightly, and a smile slowly spread across his lips.
That smile was different from the usual coldness and aloofness; it carried a subtle warmth, like the first ray of sunlight peeking out when the snow melts in early spring.
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