Seo Zhenzhen had been observing Cheng Zhiwei through the rearview mirror. Logically, upon seeing her, Cheng Zhiwei should have been furious, or at the very least, should not have appeared as composed as she did now, having even agreed to take her ho while they were in the room.
She couldn’t help but glance at Zhou Lin, noticing his cold, hard profile with its clearly defined angles, utterly indifferent.
She couldn’t help but clench her hands, pressing all her emotions deep inside, silently reminding herself to be patient.
Cheng Zhiwei was aware of Seo Zhenzhen’s gaze but didn’t take it to heart, her deanor remaining indifferent.
To Seo Zhenzhen, that indifference seed like glaring mockery. Hatred surged in her heart, yet her face bore a smile. When getting out of the car, she said, "Thank you for the ride ho."
As she spoke, she sighed, "Zhiwei, I thought you would never forgive ."
Just as Cheng Zhiwei was about to reply, the man dozing in the passenger seat slowly opened his eyes. His gaze was dark and profound as he stared directly at Seo Zhenzhen. However, he spoke to Cheng Zhiwei, "Let’s go."
Cheng Zhiwei gave a nod, and the car drove away.
Seo Zhenzhen stood in the chilly wind, sneering. Zhou Lin was truly ruthless—treating her as a stranger now. And there was Cheng Zhiwei, who had been able to forgive Zhou Lin despite the terrible things he had done to her.
That was pathetic.
There wasn’t much conversation on the way back, only at a red light did Zhou Lin finally speak indifferently, "Why did you drive her?"
Cheng Zhiwei glanced at the rearview mirror, lightly resting her foot on the clutch, and casually said, "Aren’t the three of you best friends? And it was He Lanzhi who asked, how could you let him lose face in front of so many people?"
The tiredness in Zhou Lin’s eyes was evident as he turned to look out the window, and at Cheng Zhiwei’s reflection on the car’s side, so calm and detached.
"There’s no need to bother with them," he said, masking the deep gloom in his eyes.
"Understood," Cheng Zhiwei responded.
As the car pulled into the yard and stopped, Cheng Zhiwei got out and went straight into the house, so quickly that she didn’t even notice Zhou Lin, who had gotten out first and was waiting at the door.
Zhou Lin followed her inside expressionlessly.
Cheng Zhiwei headed to the kitchen, "Aunt Wang, what delicious thing are you making?"
Wang i handed her a bowl of soup with a smile, "It’s a soup to nourish your body."
Holding the bowl, Cheng Zhiwei sipped leisurely and complained in enjoynt, "I’ve already gained a belt size, with you feeding like this at night, I’m bound to get fat."
"Gaining a bit of weight is good, you’re too thin," Wang i said while thinking about how she had been inventively making soup for Cheng Zhiwei for the past three months. Cheng Zhiwei always cooperated and drank it all, yet hadn’t gained an ounce.
After Cheng Zhiwei finished her soup, she wanted more, but just then Zhou Lin ca in.
Wang i asked if Zhou Lin wanted any, and he nonchalantly took Cheng Zhiwei’s bowl and handed it over. Wang i refilled it, and Zhou Lin drank a bowl before leaving.
The exchange was perford with practiced ease, without any avoidance.
Of course, they were a couple after all, there was no need for avoidance.
But seeing that bowl, Cheng Zhiwei no longer felt like drinking. When Wang i asked if she wanted more, she smiled and declined, "I better not drink too much, I can’t keep getting fatter."
"I’ll keep the soup warm, it’ll taste best in the morning."
"Sounds good."
Cheng Zhiwei went upstairs to the master bedroom where Zhou Lin was changing clothes. His bare back showed beautifully streamlined muscles. She tilted her head, changed into her pajamas,
and had just stood up when she was embraced by a strong chest. Zhou Lin’s chin rested on her shoulder, his breath warm at her ear, tinged with a slight trace of alcohol, "Could you make so sobering-up soup?"
Cheng Zhiwei wriggled out of his embrace, her long hair casually pinned up, with her black sweater slipping down at the wrist, revealing a stretch of tender, fair skin, "Alright."
She agreed, descending the stairs with light steps.
Zhou Lin stood rooted to the spot, his brows slightly furrowed.
Downstairs, Wang i was no longer there; only the soup she had ward emitted a fragrant scent, while Cheng Zhiwei handled the Chinese dates, sighing softly.
She didn’t know when such a life would end.
Because she had lost her mory, or rather, it wasn’t a complete amnesia; she just couldn’t rember anything about her husband, Zhou Lin.
When she woke up, this strange man claid he was Zhou Lin, told her she had been in a car accident, and said they were married. She initially didn’t believe him, but Auntie Lin and Uncle Zhou, whom she recognized, were there beside her.
They confird that what Zhou Lin had said was true.
The Cheng Family and the Zhou Family had good relations, and she and Zhou Lin had grown up together, dubbing their relationship childhood sweethearts wouldn’t have been an overstatent. Their marriage seed naturally inevitable.
Yet, three months had passed, and Cheng Zhiwei still felt as if she was living in a dream. She had tried hard to rember Zhou Lin, but her mind was a blank slate concerning him.
Though they were supposed to be the closest people to each other, she felt extrely unfamiliar with him.
Despite three months of living together, she felt not a hint of affection for him; in fact, she had an instinctual aversion and disgust towards his closeness.
If it weren’t for the sight of the marriage certificate, she would have thought she might have been tricked into marriage.
But that person was Zhou Lin, how could he possibly deceive soone into marriage.
Lost in her thoughts, Cheng Zhiwei didn’t notice when Zhou Lin had entered the room, until his firm and strong arms wrapped around her waist and the familiar yet strange scent hit her ear, snapping her back to the present.
The water was already boiling, slightly burnt.
Cheng Zhiwei hurriedly turned off the fire, looking at the bowl of sobering-up soup that carried a hint of black and burnt taste, her forehead twitching as she said softly, "I’ll cook it again for you."
Zhou Lin’s laughter was right behind her ear, accompanied by a hint of gentle warmth, "If I hadn’t co, were you planning to burn down the kitchen?"
Cheng Zhiwei lowered her head, "Sorry."
As she was about to throw away the sobering-up soup, her wrist was pinched, and Zhou Lin gripped her shoulders to turn her to face him, his jaw clenched tight, "What are you thinking about?"
"Nothing." Cheng Zhiwei looked down, her tone gentle yet always carrying a touch of aloofness, "Let make another bowl for you, so you don’t wake up with a headache tomorrow morning."
"Zhiwei." Zhou Lin’s tone grew heavier, his fingers pinching her chin, forcing her to look up at him.
But her eyes were calm with a hint of impatience, leaving Zhou Lin feeling stifled, and he simply kissed her in that position.
The sudden touch on her lips made Cheng Zhiwei’s eyes widen, and then a slap landed on Zhou Lin’s face.
The sound of the slap was very crisp, causing Cheng Zhiwei herself to be stunned, not knowing why she had hit him.
Kissing, wasn’t it the most normal interaction between a husband and a wife?
Zhou Lin touched his cheek with the back of his hand, not really angry but feigning ease, "We are husband and wife, are you going to keep rejecting ?"
Panic flashed in Cheng Zhiwei’s eyes, followed by a strained smile as she said, "Sorry."
He was right, they were married, and fulfilling their marital duties was her obligation.
Yet, she always found it hard to accept.
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