Upon hearing the three words "Mr. Qin," Wen Ke’s expression montarily cooled, though his eyes didn’t show much emotion. He casually changed the subject: "Keep the pepper spray with you. If you encounter any criminals stalking you again, don’t hesitate to use it. But I can’t give you a police baton; it doesn’t comply with internal regulations. You know, there are a lot of strict and peculiar rules dostically."
"I know, this is sufficient." Shi Su weighed the two cans in her hand, then glanced at the ti: "What ti are you going to the police station today? Do you have ti to stay for a bite before you leave?"
"Honestly, you don’t look like soone from the entertainnt industry, more like a sexy little chef." Wen Ke laughed and teased her, about to refuse the al, but suddenly glanced down and then looked back at Shi Su with a aningful gaze: "Is there anyone else at ho?"
"...No." Shi Su clearly rembered she had just put away Jing Jihan’s shoes and coat, as well as the clothes Zhou He brought.
Wen Ke looked at Shi Su’s expression, raising a brow: "A man?"
"......"
Wen Ke didn’t linger long on Shi Su’s face, rely glanced at her before stepping directly inside.
As Wen Ke walked past the closed bedroom doors, he glanced at Shi Su each ti, until he reached the master bedroom door. Shi Su remained calm and composed, but Wen Ke stopped in front of the door, casually pointing into the room, then raised his eyebrows at Shi Su.
Truly worthy of an elite from the FBI’s criminal psychology division.
Shi Su grinned, raised her hand in a fist-bump gesture, mouthing the words: Impressive, impressive.
Wen Ke was about to go on duty, with no ti for banter, nor did she knock on the door or do anything else. After glancing at Shi Su for a mont, she simply left.
Shi Su quickly went to see her off: "Really not staying for a al?"
"No, there’s not enough ti."
"You’re even busier than you were in the United States."
"It’s different kinds of busy. One is ntally and physically draining, always being on the move, while the other requires being punctual, no slacking off at work."
When they reached the elevator doors, Shi Su unintentionally glanced toward the wall beside them.
While waiting for the elevator, Wen Ke remarked: "You really like that man."
Shi Su’s gaze paused: "...No, it’s just a coincidence that he appeared in my ho."
"You’re not the type to casually let anyone get close, especially in such a private place like your ho. Allowing soone to enter freely and even rest in your master bedroom clearly indicates the trust you have in this person. Also, your usual defenses fail completely around him."
As Wen Ke spoke, her serene gaze captured Shi Su’s montary loss of composure: "Is it a mismatch in social status?"
Shi Su attempted to explain, wanting to say it was because Jing Jihan had previously lived in her ho for a while, sharing the sa roof for a long ti, so she didn’t avoid too much.
Besides, the place she currently lives in belongs to Jing Jihan.
She couldn’t possibly cold-heartedly evict soone to the guest room after ruining their stomach like that.
But upon reflection, these explanations seed indeed rather strained.
Especially in front of Wen Ke, whose natural, sharp intuition and expert psychological skills make even the most elusive criminals in the United States unable to hide from her. And Shi Su, despite considering herself decent at acting, wasn’t very good at lying.
Shi Su didn’t directly answer, but watched the elevator approaching the thirty-first floor, saying: "My past life was nearly destroyed under the Shi Family’s roof. These years that followed were rely survival on the vestiges. You know what I’ve been investigating for these years; I haven’t had the ti and energy to consider anything beyond survival. More importantly, I’m not a single free young woman; I have Mianmian, and for all these years, I don’t even know who the child’s father is."
"Will he mind?"
"I mind."
The elevator doors opened, and Wen Ke, unable to linger, entered the elevator. Before the doors closed, she gave Shi Su a deep look: "Won’t you try?"
"No, can’t afford to try."
-
Shi Su indeed can’t afford to try.
Just look at Jing Jihan sitting on her bed, occasionally glancing at data files and emails on the computer. Even though he’s in just a bedroom, his aura is as composed as if this were his commanding business battleground, calm and collected.
This man, whose status and position are entirely unequal to hers, can’t afford to try.
Moreover, she has no love experience, and encountering such a formidable character at the start, what if one day Mr. Jing suddenly throws millions or billions at her to make her leave his grandson—she fears she would walk away without hesitation.
Thinking about facing such a morally challenging situation in the future, or rather, imagining one day Mr. Jing throwing money at her, Shi Su struggles at this very mont, pondering how she could leave with money without appearing excessively materialistic, and how to portray such a scenario as pure and innocent, as if she’s the one being coerced?
Wow, this question is really too difficult; it would be better if nothing ever happened from the start.
The man sitting on the bed suddenly shifted his gaze from the computer screen to Shi Su, who had been staring at him intently for so ti.
No matter how strategic he was, he could never calculate that Shi Su’s mind was filled with the plot of a domineering CEO romance novel, nor could he see that her imagination had her sitting atop a mountain of money, raising a glass of 1982 Lafite wine, clinking with Mianmian’s 1982 AD calcium milk, mother and daughter drinking while crying.
The air chid with a pleasant notification sound, and Jing Jihan closed the laptop.
Shi Su instantly snapped back to reality, quickly retracting her gaze that was about to bore a hole through him. Rembering the purpose of returning to the master bedroom, she promptly grabbed the electronic thermoter and moved closer: "Let take your temperature again."
Jing Jihan showed no expression: "The fever’s gone."
"Just because you say the fever’s gone, doesn’t an it is. Do you think you’re a doctor?"
Shi Su pressed the thermoter to his forehead, took it off to inspect—a reading of thirty-six point eight degrees.
Did the fever really subside?
She instantly turned to look at Jing Jihan, her gaze clearly aning, since he’s no longer feverish and uncomfortable, could he leave?
Jing Jihan seed not to notice her overly eager look, casually leaning against the headboard, placing a hand over his stomach through the blanket: "Stomach ache."
Shi Su: "..."
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