The roses blood and withered. Six years is a long ti, enough for things to change and people to drift apart. Did that young love deepen over ti, or did it slowly curdle? Joanna Kennedy had always deliberately avoided this question.
She and Simon Lockwood seed to be caught in a stalemate, neither daring to be the first to break the surface-level peace.
Jack Warren was drinking at a bar when he saw Simon Lockwood’s ssage, his expression one of utter shock.
Sean Grant, sitting across from him, patted his face to bring him back to his senses.
"What’s wrong?" Sean Grant poured another glass of red wine and downed half of it in one gulp. "Which one of your little lovers texted you? You look like you’ve seen a ghost..."
Sean Grant had a round face. He raised his eyebrows as he spoke, a mischievous look on his face as if enjoying the show.
’Little lover, my ass. This is a goddamn ticking ti bomb.’
The corner of Jack Warren’s mouth twitched, and he said woodenly, "Simon."
A wine glass fell with a CRASH, shattering into a thousand pieces.
Sean Grant: "..."
It was midnight, but the streets were still brightly lit and bustling with people. Many small stalls lined the roadside, selling fresh flowers.
A black Maybach sped past.
The car was unnaturally quiet. From the passenger seat, Sean Grant glanced cautiously at Simon Lockwood in the back.
Simon Lockwood reeked of alcohol but seed completely sober. ’Where did he get that drunk?’ Sean Grant wondered.
But he suppressed his curiosity.
There was no other reason, really. It was mainly because Simon Lockwood looked terrifying right now.
He was radiating an oppressive aura, and the way he just sat there scread "stay away."
Sean Grant gulped nervously.
The car drove aimlessly, circling the roads again and again. Finally, Sean Grant couldn’t help but ask, "Should we go for a drink?"
Simon Lockwood’s eyes were closed. He slowly opened them at the question, and in that instant, Sean Grant saw the grim coldness in their depths.
It was gone in a flash. Simon Lockwood pinched the bridge of his nose and reverted to his usual indifference. "Back to the villa."
The answer was what Jack Warren had expected. When they arrived at the villa, Simon Lockwood handed Jack several project proposals he had finished reviewing and told him to distribute them tomorrow.
Seeing that the two were still standing there, Simon Lockwood frowned. "Are you planning to stay here?"
Jack Warren and Sean Grant: "..."
’So he really did just need a chauffeur.’
"You don’t need us to stay and keep you company?" Jack Warren raised an eyebrow.
Sean Grant imdiately puffed out his chest, indicating he was more than willing, that it was his sworn duty.
Simon Lockwood was completely aloof. "I wouldn’t want to bother you."
’You already have,’ Jack Warren thought silently.
He was now highly suspicious that Simon Lockwood had done this on purpose. If Simon couldn’t enjoy himself, he had to drag others down with him. The man probably couldn’t rest easy unless he was making soone’s life difficult.
In the end, the two of them left, driving Simon Lockwood’s car.
After a few days of rest, Joanna Kennedy received an interview invitation for the variety show she had been on. She accepted imdiately without much hesitation.
She had been staying at Simon Lockwood’s villa these past few days. At first, she worried about what to do if she saw him, whether she should explain that she hadn’t ant what she said that night.
But for the entire following week, Simon Lockwood never ca back. Anyone who didn’t know better would have thought he’d moved out.
The housekeeper kindly explained, "Mr. Lockwood has been very busy with work lately."
’No matter how busy he is, he still has to co ho to sleep,’ Joanna Kennedy thought. ’That excuse is too flimsy. He must be deliberately avoiding .’
’Simon Lockwood was the one who proposed the three-day agreent in the first place. It’s not like I insisted on moving into his villa. Why is it being turned around to make look like the cuckoo who stole the magpie’s nest?’
’If he doesn’t want to see , he could just say so instead of pulling this stunt.’
Joanna Kennedy felt a little wronged. Even her food had lost its flavor.
She was suddenly reminded of the food from a certain restaurant that Julie would always buy for her during filming. Their stead egg custard was especially delicious—soft, smooth, and bouncy, without any unpleasant egginess, and with a light, fragrant hint of sesa oil.
As she thought about it, Joanna’s mouth began to water. She looked up at the housekeeper with eager eyes and asked, "Ma’am, do you know how to make stead egg custard?"
"Stead egg custard?" The housekeeper seed a little surprised, but she replied, "Yes, I do. If Miss Kennedy likes it, I’ll go make so for you."
Joanna Kennedy’s eyes lit up. She was just about to thank the housekeeper—
when the housekeeper rembered sothing else, a smile in her voice. "Speaking of which, Mr. Lockwood also loves stead egg custard. I saw him cooking in the kitchen quite often a while ago. He makes it even better than I do..."
’Simon Lockwood cooks often?’
Joanna Kennedy was a little surprised. Simon Lockwood was the president of a large corporation now, incredibly busy all day. It was unexpected that he would have the ti and inclination to cook.
Seeing her dazed look, and wanting to speak well of her boss and build up his image as a good man, the housekeeper continued, "Mr. Lockwood doesn’t just make good stead egg custard. He can make all sorts of other dishes, and porridge too. He’d make several different things each ti, and then he’d have to go back to the office to work after."
The housekeeper’s face was filled with pride.
But Joanna Kennedy was completely stunned by what she heard.
Julie’s vague explanations, the unique food containers, the different als every night...
Like a stone dropped into a lake, making a dull, muffled sound, Joanna Kennedy finally caught a glimpse of a certain truth.
She swallowed past a dry throat. "Ma’am... could you please explain that in more detail..."
"Huh?"
"...What dishes did... did Simon Lockwood make?"
"Oh, that... I don’t rember all of them clearly, just a few..."
The housekeeper listed the few dishes she could rember, and when she finished, she saw that the young woman was already frozen in place.
"Miss Kennedy... what’s wrong?"
A long, long silence.
After a long mont, Joanna Kennedy slowly shook her head. "It’s nothing..."
It felt as if an invisible hand was squeezing her heart. Joanna Kennedy found it hard to breathe. She closed her eyes, forcing back the stinging sensation.
Joanna Kennedy decided she kind of hated Simon Lockwood...
That self-righteous Simon Lockwood.
So cold to her face, yet secretly learning everything about her behind her back...
’Love, not love... this whole thing is so lodramatic,’ Joanna thought. ’It must be so kind of human virus, a contagious one.’
*
The post-show interview for the variety program was more relaxed than other interviews. It was mainly focused on specific topics, letting the artists share their thoughts or answer questions from netizens.
Reporter: "Jojo, your portrayal of the ’white moonlight’ first love was so emotionally resonant. A fan online asked if you’ve ever been in a relationship, one that was truly unforgettable?"
The entertainnt industry is always tight-lipped about the topic of romance, especially for artists whose careers are just taking off.
Behind the cara, her manager waved a hand, signaling that she could just make sothing up.
The cara focused on the young woman’s beautiful face, clearly capturing her long, lowered eyelashes.
"I have," Joanna Kennedy said.
The reporter’s eyes lit up, and they imdiately fired off a series of blunt questions: "Was it your first love? Why did you break up? Are you still in love with him?"
’It was my first love. The only first love I’ve had in two lifetis.’
’Why did we break up?’
’Because it was my first love, I made the most rational choice.’
’Am I still in love with him?’
Joanna Kennedy slowly raised her eyes to the cara, yet it seed as if she was looking through it, at sothing far beyond. Her voice was soft. "I am."
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