Chapter 83: Tipsy—Sharing the Same Bed and Pillow

Men and women working together make the job less tiring.

Last time, it was hot pot; today, since they were set on tasting each other’s cooking, it was to be homestyle stir-fry. Together, the two went to the supermarket to buy ingredients and drinks.

They chose red wine, planning to sip moderately rather than indulge.

...

“Ding dong, ding dong ding dong—”

The doorbell rang at an apartment on the Bund, but after quite a while, no one answered. Luo Man furrowed her brow slightly, taking out her phone to send a message to Zhang Long, but just as she was about to hit send, she seemed to think better of it, deleting the words she’d written and falling into thought.

It was almost evening, and a Saturday at that. He was likely out having dinner with friends—was it really necessary to disturb him?

“Let’s go get some fresh air.”

After a moment’s hesitation, Luo Man dismissed the idea of contacting Zhang Long. Downstairs, not far away, was the Bund itself. Though the winter chill was biting, it promised a kind of solitude she needed.

A slow stroll in the wind—by eight or nine, surely he’d be back.

With that thought, she headed downstairs.

“All right, stop making things harder…”

In a one-bedroom apartment near Century Park, Liang Xue pushed Zhang Long out of the kitchen. “You’re in the way. How can you show off your knife skills when your shredded potatoes look like fries?”

Zhang Long grinned sheepishly and shrugged, helpless.

He just wanted to help—washing and prepping vegetables, lending a hand to save some time.

But alas, his knife skills truly failed the test; the appearance of the food was enough to make Liang Xue frown, so he was unceremoniously banished from the kitchen and sent to lounge on the living room sofa.

He scrolled through his phone—neither on QQ nor WeChat did anyone reach out. On a Saturday night, no one seemed to be thinking of him.

A little pathetic, really.

Oh well, might as well read a novel. This world’s largest website for male-oriented fiction was also called Qidian, with countless excellent stories. Zhang Long’s favorites were fantasy and xianxia, immersing himself in tales of protagonists leveling up and vanquishing enemies.

Time slipped by—about an hour later, Liang Xue’s work as chef finally came to a halt.

Four dishes and a soup: delicious and inviting.

...

“Miss, all alone?”

On the Bund, Luo Man was lost in thought, gazing at the ferries blowing their horns as they crisscrossed the river, her mind adrift, when a clear, gentle male voice sounded beside her.

She paid him no mind, remaining calm and serene.

“Heartbroken?”

The man’s voice came again, and not only that, he thoughtfully removed his coat, as if to drape it over Luo Man’s shoulders.

But the flower fell with intent, while the stream flowed indifferent. Sensing something, Luo Man quietly shifted away, then strode off without a backward glance—truly tiresome.

“Interesting,”

The man clicked his tongue in amusement. “Such a beautiful woman, and just now she looked so forlorn. Which scoundrel left this lovely lady out here in the cold? Unforgivable, such a waste.”

“A pity—she met the wrong man.”

He was certain that from the look in Luo Man’s eyes, she was troubled by love.

Not family, not work.

“Clink—” The wine glasses touched.

Zhang Long and Liang Xue took a sip of red wine after toasting, then began to enjoy the meal. As with the housewarming dinner, there was no staple food.

Fortunately, since quitting his job, Zhang Long hadn’t been exercising much lately, so a light dinner was fine.

Besides, overeating would only make him gain weight.

“Tsk, delicious.”

Zhang Long smacked his lips in exaggerated praise.

Liang Xue rolled her eyes, beautiful but dismissive; his tone and expression were too theatrical. Still, the compliment pleased her. As the saying goes: the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach, isn’t it?

And so, the man ate while the woman sipped her wine.

Neither Zhang Long nor Liang Xue mentioned a certain someone. Everything went unsaid; they saw through things but chose not to speak. Otherwise, the meal would be ruined.

Playing dumb, preserving the mood.

...

“Ding dong, ding dong ding dong—”

Once again, the doorbell rang at the apartment on the Bund, but just as before, there was no answer. Luo Man’s heart skipped a beat, anxiety creeping in—a premonition she couldn’t shake.

It was eight-thirty. By rights, even if Zhang Long had gone out for dinner, he should have been home by now.

Every other time she’d come looking for him, he was always home. Even though it was Saturday, Zhang Long didn’t have any close friends in the city. He’d lost touch with old colleagues from Shengxin, and probably didn’t see them anymore.

“Out carousing?”

Luo Man frowned, falling silent.

If that was the case, she couldn’t help but regret not immediately agreeing when Zhang Long suggested starting over after their last breakup. Whether out of pride or reserve, how could someone go from breaking up to getting back together in the blink of an eye? Surely a few days were needed as a buffer.

“Calm down.”

Her expression soured, but after a deep breath she forced herself to stay rational. The worst-case scenario was Zhang Long finding someone else, but that was unlikely. Most likely, she still had a chance.

The previous Friday, Zhang Long had invited her out, but she’d turned him down because of a part-time job. It wasn’t just an excuse—she really had let him down and failed to follow through.

Now, a week had passed with no word from Zhang Long. Maybe he was just fed up, or maybe he simply didn’t care anymore.

He really didn’t seem to care at all.

Luo Man couldn’t understand—was Zhang Long truly unmoved by her beauty? Did everything have to wait for her to make the first move? Didn’t he know that women are supposed to be reserved and shy?

When he’d suggested starting over, she thought he still cared. But now, she wasn’t so sure.

Should she give up, or move forward?

In that moment, Luo Man was lost. If possible, she wished Zhang Long would truly fall for her, rather than drift apart and become strangers. At the same time, she finally realized: in Zhang Long’s eyes, she wasn’t anything special.

Whether together or apart, she would leave it to fate.

...

“Hey, pretending to be drunk now…”

Back in Liang Xue’s apartment, as their meal was drawing to an end, Zhang Long was putting on a show of being tipsy, making the hostess grit her teeth in exasperation—he was really good at playing the fool.

Almost as good as the plastic bags they’d used for groceries.

“Don’t want to leave, do you?”

Liang Xue shook her slightly flushed head—her tolerance for alcohol was unpredictable. The last time they’d shared half a bottle of wine, she’d actually drunk herself to sleep. Although her mood had been low at the time, Zhang Long seemed to have no worries lately, living freely.

So tonight, there was no way he was really drunk.

“Ugh, my head hurts, I feel dizzy…”

Zhang Long sprawled across the table, groaning and muttering, making it abundantly clear he had no intention of leaving tonight, much to Liang Xue’s mingled amusement and annoyance.

A grown man, acting like a scoundrel.

There was nothing for it—Liang Xue had to help the staggering Zhang Long to the bedroom and toss him onto the bed.

Then she removed his pants and jacket.

Moments later, having returned from the bathroom, she soaked a towel in warm water and wiped his face, hands, and feet. Unfortunately, Zhang Long didn’t dare open his eyes—otherwise, he’d have recognized that it was the same towel he’d used to wipe his face after getting up last time.

Liang Xue wasn’t a man, but she’d seen the joke online: “A man’s towel wipes everything from head to waist.”

So, just make do—it didn’t matter.

After all, it wasn’t her towel.

Time passed. Though Zhang Long wasn’t truly drunk, he was somewhat dazed. He vaguely sensed the bed shifting—it must have been Liang Xue finishing up and getting into bed.

He’d waited, half-suffering, for this moment.

As Liang Xue slipped under the covers, her soft, warm body brushing up against him, the fresh fragrance of her post-shower skin drifting over, Zhang Long’s tipsy mind instantly grew feverish, his blood surging.

He quietly shifted closer and turned over.

“Mmm, behave yourself.”

No sooner had Liang Xue settled in than Zhang Long rolled over, half-pressing against her, clinging to her like an octopus to a pillow.

His breathing quickened, and even though his eyes were open, the darkness revealed nothing—but it didn’t matter.

Guided by touch, he could sense Liang Xue’s face close to his. Without hesitation, he leaned in and pressed a kiss to her tender lips.

Arousing passion, the night grew tender.