The rain still fell relentlessly, Mu Shuoqian neatly put away his umbrella and set it by the shoe cabinet in the porch, walking past her without her noticing, as she was still dazed and lost in thought.
He sat down on the sofa, casually placing the telephone on the coffee table loud enough to startle her awake.
Gu Qili finally snapped out of her reminiscences, hurrying over to sit half a ter away from him, intending to talk with him. However, being next to him made her nervous, forcing her to hug a pillow tightly in her arms to squeeze a few tis to ease the pressure before she finally asked, "Can we talk?"
He lit a cigarette and remained silent, his profile still exuding an aloof coldness that seed to keep people at a thousand miles distance.
Seeing his cold expression in the past, she would have recoiled in fear, but now aware of the many things he had done for her, Gu Qili found her courage growing.
"Thank you for this ti, and for last ti, and the ti before that," she said, not specifying the incidents but trusting that he knew.
He silently smoked, unresponsive, making Gu Qili feel like she was punching cotton, completely powerless.
"Actually, you don’t dislike as much as it seems, right? On the contrary, you are quite nice to ." Just having seen him enter the door, she even felt an impulse to rush over and hug him.
To say she wasn’t moved would be a lie; she was indeed deeply touched.
If it’s really as they say that he has an allergy to won, then letting her live at Jingshan, wearing clothes she handled, eating the als she cooked, what did all this signify? She couldn’t help but think further.
"So what?" he suddenly looked over, his tone mocking, "You think you’re special, and you can rightfully be the Second Young Master of Mu Family’s wife?"
Gu Qili was suddenly choked up by his words, her face flushing red, unable to utter a single word.
He continued coldly, "No matter what happens in two years, but for these two years, since you’re registered as Mrs. Mu, I, Mu Shuoqian, am not so incompetent as to allow others to bully my wife. So, you don’t need to thank , nor should you feel too good about yourself. All I’ve done is rely trying to maintain a bit of a man’s dignity."
He glanced at his watch, "I’m hungry, make dinner."
Gu Qili didn’t say anything, silently rising and heading into the kitchen. Watching her slender, straight back, Mu Shuoqian took a hard drag of his cigarette, the swirling smoke obscuring his expression.
Gu Qili placed the washed pumpkin on the cutting board, a vegetable she had previously bought and stored in the refrigerator. It’s said online that people with stomach issues should eat more stomach-soothing vegetables.
The pumpkin was too hard; she tried several tis to cut it in half with the knife but failed.
She thought, maybe she was irritated by the pumpkin, as tears inexplicably welled up in her eyes, growing more uncontrollable by the mont.
She wiped her eyes vigorously, her hand damp with tears, and finally gave up on cutting, squatting down on the floor, hands covering her eyes.
There was a frosted sliding door in the kitchen, closed, and a silhouette was only vaguely visible from the outside.
Mu Shuoqian didn’t say much, but every sentence painfully hit her where it hurt.
Indeed, marrying him was only to reclaim Gu Family’s vineyard, and she really desired nothing else—neither the title of Mrs. Mu nor any wealth and honor; she hadn’t even considered them.
But hearing Mu Shuoqian say this, she found herself uncontrollably heartbroken, feeling imnsely aggrieved.
Right, why was she so presumptuous, thinking she holds a unique place in his heart? He was right; he was just defending his own dignity. The wife of Second Young Master of Mu Family, even if only in na, still carried his na. Given his personality, how could he tolerate anything less?
As to why he let her stay here, it was probably just to put on a show for the Mu Family.
Gu Qili drew several tissues from the counter to dry her tears, picked up the knife, and continued to wrestle with the pumpkin.
I chop, I chop.
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