Cheng Yao went home practically like a zombie. She was so out of it that even Megatron bounding up to her, eager to please, couldn’t lift her mood.

Since Qian Heng had a dinner with a client tonight, she wouldn’t need to cook, and Cheng Yao decided she wouldn’t bother making dinner for herself either — she had absolutely no appetite right now.

She fiddled with her phone, staring at Cheng Xi’s familiar number, but didn’t dare call. She was afraid to hear her sister’s voice — she knew that no matter what, Cheng Xi wouldn’t say a word of blame. She always endured quietly, always held back from criticizing others, always carried her own negativity alone. But it was precisely because of this that Cheng Yao had no idea how to face her.

Just then, the sound of a key turning in the front door lock startled her.

Cheng Yao crept warily toward the entrance with Megatron in tow, only to find Qian Heng standing there.

“Boss, weren’t you supposed to have dinner with an Austrian client tonight?”

Qian Heng, still in his expensive, impeccably tailored suit, undid his watch strap and said, casually, “Oh, the Austrian client had something come up and couldn’t make it.”

“So…”

“So you’re cooking.” Qian Heng said, expressionless. “I want pan-seared cod, oyster sauce abalone, stir-fried broccoli with vegetables, cold-mixed black fungus, and Dongpo pork.”

Cheng Yao stared, dumbfounded. “We don’t have a single one of those ingredients at home! Let’s do something else — based on what’s in the fridge, I could make tomato and egg stir-fry, celery and lily bulb, or potato beef brisket. How about those?”

“There’s no such thing as settling for second-best in my dictionary.”

“…”

“But I’ll give you special treatment today. I’ll drive you to buy groceries.”

To Cheng Yao’s surprise, instead of just tossing her some cash and telling her to take a taxi to buy groceries, Qian Heng actually volunteered to be her chauffeur today.

Not until she was seated back in the Bentley did Cheng Yao’s confusion fully set in. She looked over at Qian Heng’s profile, wondering just how badly he wanted that cod and abalone, that he’d bother driving himself.

They went to an upscale supermarket, but even in the evening, the place was still crowded. Cheng Yao navigated this kind of environment with ease, but her boss trailing behind her, on the other hand, was a different story entirely.

“Stop pushing me. You just touched my waist — that’s sexual harassment already.”

Qian Heng stood in front of the dairy aisle, coldly issuing this warning to the middle-aged woman behind him.

This lofty, above-it-all boss of hers clearly almost never went to the supermarket himself, and had no idea just how formidable a supermarket auntie in full battle mode could be.

Just as the woman’s eyes narrowed dangerously, hands planted on her hips like a compass ready to strike, Cheng Yao yanked Qian Heng behind her. “Ma’am, he’s been sexually harassed a lot before — touched on the waist, on the butt — he’s a bit sensitive about it. Please forgive him, forgive him!”

The woman muttered a bit, shot Qian Heng one more glare, then swaggered off.

“I’ve been sexually harassed a lot?? What exactly are you implying?”

Facing Qian Heng’s outrage, Cheng Yao explained kindly. “You have no idea how formidable these aunties can be in battle. You don’t want to get on their bad side — better to smooth things over.”

“I’m a lawyer. However formidable these aunties are, can they possibly be more formidable than me?”

No sooner had Qian Heng finished speaking than an argument broke out nearby—

“That last half-price carton of eggs is mine!”

“Ha, yours? Are those two things on your face light bulbs? Because they’re clearly not plugged in tonight! Blind much? Didn’t you see I grabbed the eggs first? You think just standing next to eggs makes them yours? Why don’t you go stand outside a bank and claim all the money’s yours too?”

The one who’d won the eggs and had the upper hand was, unmistakably, the very same auntie Qian Heng had just accused of sexual harassment…

The other woman was clearly not backing down either. “Your whole family eats garbage, huh? Talking out your ass. I think you’re the blind one — your eyes are so small they look like a car crash scene. Probably been run over before.”

“Zhang Chunhua, don’t think I don’t know — behind my back at square dancing, you’ve been poaching my team members to switch over to your group. A woman your age, dressing all low-cut trying to seduce the security guard, scheming to team up with him and steal my spot — you shameless old hag, your chest’s sagging down to your belly button, and your hammer of a head is stuck on your neck. I’m amazed they didn’t put you on display at the World Expo!”

…

These two aunties clearly had a whole history of grudges old and new — from the eggs to some square-dancing turf war — and the insults hurled point-blank kept coming, thoroughly updating Qian Heng’s vocabulary.

Cheng Yao glanced at Qian Heng. “See that? If I hadn’t pulled you back, that would’ve been you right now.”

“…”

Qian Heng, though clearly unwilling to admit defeat, glanced over at the two aunties now pulling hair and tearing clothes, cursing and grappling with each other, pressed his lips together, and chose to stay silent.

This time, he’d lost fair and square.

Cheng Yao’s heart had been heavy over the whole Cheng Xi situation, but seeing Qian Heng — usually so commanding in the legal world — finally get taken down a peg lifted her spirits without her even noticing.

Today, Qian Heng also broke from his usual brisk, no-nonsense manner. Beyond just grabbing the exact ingredients he’d specified, he actually suggested they browse around a bit more.

“This whole shelf, from here to the end — get one of everything.”

Cheng Yao looked at Qian Heng uncertainly, staring in disbelief. “Are you sure? One of every single item?”

Standing before them was, unmistakably, the snack aisle.

Could this aloof, poison-tempered boss of hers actually have a sweet tooth???

“Just buy it when I tell you to. Why so many questions?”

“Okay, okay, okay.”

It’s not my money anyway, Cheng Yao thought — no way was she going to defy her boss. She quickly started loading one of everything into the cart.

Cheng Yao glanced at the now-full cart, then at Qian Heng.

Qian Heng elegantly extended his pale, slender hand. “These hands…”

“I know, I know, these hands aren’t for pushing carts.” Resigned to her fate, Cheng Yao took hold of the cart. “I’ll push it, I’ll push it.”

But even with the cart packed full, Qian Heng still wasn’t satisfied, hands tucked in his pockets. “Any other snacks that are especially good?”

“Sure — Hokkaido’s Three Brothers fries, Mochi ice cream, crab roe fava beans, Maltesers chocolate balls, sugar-roasted chestnuts, candied hawthorn sticks, Yoku Moku cookie rolls, Elephant King snacks…”

Cheng Yao, quite knowledgeable about snacks, rattled off a long list without pause. When she finished, she felt a bit embarrassed. “I think they’re all pretty good, haha…”

“Then buy all of them.”

“Huh?”

Cheng Yao hadn’t expected that, in the end, Qian Heng would actually buy every single snack she’d mentioned. She ended up with a bag of still-warm sugar-roasted chestnuts in one hand and a candied hawthorn stick in the other — and with both her hands full, the entire overflowing cart of snacks was left, condescendingly, for Qian Heng to push…

There he was, dressed in his expensive suit, pushing a cart full of snacks that clashed completely with his cold, aloof presence, sour-faced in the middle of a checkout line full of aunties and young women.

Deeply incongruous — and yet, somehow, it worked.

The everyday, down-to-earth atmosphere around him seemed to soften Qian Heng’s usual “approach at your own risk” chill, making him look almost charming — as if a warm glow had been cast over that handsome, distant exterior of his.

Because of his striking looks and otherworldly presence, Qian Heng stood out sharply in the checkout line, drawing constant curious glances. But true to form, whenever those probing eyes fell on him, he’d shoot them right back down with his icy, freezing glare without hesitation.

Unable to keep looking at Qian Heng, people in line started turning their attention to Cheng Yao instead.

Most of the people shopping at the supermarket were women — men as put-together and striking as Qian Heng were rare, let alone even a man with a beer belly. Grocery shopping and buying daily necessities seemed to be naturally coded as women’s work.

And beyond his good looks and impressive build, the other thing that stood out most about Qian Heng was — money.

From his hair to his clothes to every pore, he seemed to radiate the scent of cash.

He looked wealthy at a glance, pampered, someone whose time was clearly precious.

And yet a man this handsome, this rich, this busy, was still willing to come along to the supermarket, patiently wait in the checkout line, and buy a whole cart of snacks, all for a woman.

The way everyone looked at Cheng Yao now, it was practically like she’d stepped straight out of a teen romance novel as the female lead.

Envy, jealousy, appraisal, curiosity.

Bathed in all these looks, Cheng Yao felt a bit flustered too, half wanting to jump up and explain — this is my boss, and all these snacks he’s buying are for me!

Finally, after the person in front of them finished paying, it was Qian Heng’s turn.

While Qian Heng was paying, Cheng Yao spotted her favorite Skittles on the shelf by the register and couldn’t help glancing at them a few extra times. Much as she wanted some, since Qian Heng was footing the bill, she felt too embarrassed to add something for herself, even if it wasn’t expensive.

But maybe it was some kind of cosmic coincidence — Qian Heng, who’d been staring straight ahead the whole time as if the world existed beneath him, suddenly turned and glanced at Cheng Yao. “Grab me three packs of Skittles.”

His voice was cool and detached, carrying that natural air of privilege — as if buying a bag of Skittles were on the scale of acquiring a company.

How surprising, Cheng Yao thought — Qian Heng actually likes Skittles too.

Cheng Yao quickly grabbed the Skittles, and Qian Heng paid for everything together.

As Cheng Yao finished bagging up all the snacks, she instinctively reached to carry them herself — but before she could, a pair of arms beat her to it, taking the bags first.

“Boss?” Cheng Yao looked confused. “Aren’t your hands supposed to…”

“My hands certainly aren’t for carrying grocery bags.” Qian Heng’s tone remained as cool as ever. “But there are so many heavy bags — if you can’t manage and drop my snacks everywhere, what then?”

“Oh…”

Having said that, Qian Heng didn’t bother looking at Cheng Yao again, simply carrying the pile of supermarket bags — utterly mismatched with his suit — and walking off without a backward glance.

When Cheng Yao had first left the house with Qian Heng, her mind had been consumed with Cheng Xi and the whole online storm. But somehow, by the time they got home, without her even realizing it, her attention had been completely diverted.

For instance, Cheng Yao found it thoroughly puzzling that Qian Heng, who’d been so enthusiastic about sweets in the supermarket that he practically wanted to buy out the whole shelf, lost all interest the moment they got home and finished dinner — completely, utterly no interest at all.

“Boss, the roasted chestnuts are getting cold. Once they’re cold they’re not as good — the skin sticks to the chestnut and gets hard to peel.”

Qian Heng glanced indifferently at the bag in Cheng Yao’s hand. “Then you eat them.”

“Huh? Should I save some for you, and heat them up in the microwave tomorrow morning?”

Qian Heng said, expressionless, “I don’t eat leftovers. If you’re not eating them, throw them out.”

If you don’t want them, I will!

Cheng Yao thought, she’d truly never met a man more spoiled and fickle than Qian Heng! She’d just gone through the trouble of buying a whole cart of sweets, and now he just says he doesn’t want them anymore, no explanation needed! Whoever ends up dating this man is doomed — all lovey-dovey ready to get the marriage certificate today, kicked out penniless tomorrow!

Just as Cheng Yao finished her chestnuts, Qian Heng spoke up again. “Don’t leave these snacks out on the table. It’s too messy.”

“Should I organize them in your room, then?”

“Do you think these snacks match the style of a room full of professional documents? Do they fit the image of an elite male lawyer?”

“…” Then why did you buy so many in the first place…

Cheng Yao glanced at the pile on the table, looking troubled. “But the living room’s this small, there’s no cabinet space in the kitchen, and there’s no room left in my room either, plus there’s Megatron to think about…”

“Then you eat them.”

“Huh?”

“I like a clean, tidy environment. Seeing all these snacks piled on the table gives me a headache.” Qian Heng said, as if it were obvious. “I don’t want to see any of this again before I go to sleep tonight, so get rid of it all.”

You’re the one who wanted to buy all this, and now you’re the one complaining it’s cluttering the place — Cheng Yao stared, dumbfounded. “Then why aren’t you eating any of it, boss?”

“Suddenly don’t feel like it.”

“These are all imported snacks, they weren’t cheap…”

Qian Heng glanced at her, his tone calm and composed. “I have money. I can afford to be capricious. Don’t care.”

“…”

Fine, fine, fine, Cheng Yao thought — it’s all stuff she liked anyway, and she’d welcome this kind of windfall happening again and again.

So she happily dug into the Three Brothers fries, matcha cookies, and the long-awaited Skittles.

Sweets really did have a healing power. As Cheng Yao munched on chocolate, her mood lifted a bit too.

Unfortunately, while a sugar rush could bring joy for a while, it couldn’t last forever. As the snacks ran out, Cheng Yao’s thoughts drifted back to Cheng Xi, back to her own mistake, back to Deng Ming.

When Cheng Xi had been smeared by Deng Ming during their divorce, it wasn’t as though Cheng Yao hadn’t thought about clearing her sister’s name — but Deng Ming’s PR skills had been far too formidable, and Cheng Yao’s voice had quickly been drowned out in the tide of public abuse.

Back then, Cheng Xi had stopped Cheng Yao from taking action. She hadn’t wanted to respond further, just wanted the whole thing to blow over as quickly as possible. Public attention was fickle — and, just as she’d predicted, a month later, no one was talking about her anymore.

Cheng Xi had chosen not to respond, but Cheng Yao could never quite bring herself to be at peace about it. Only she knew how much Cheng Xi had given up, how much she’d sacrificed, for Deng Ming — only to be discarded and trampled once he’d made it big.

Before becoming a lawyer, Cheng Yao had sworn to herself that she would one day thoroughly defeat Deng Ming in court, tear off the mask of righteousness he’d painted for himself, and let everyone see just how limited his actual skills were, and what a wretched, hypocritical person he truly was.

But now…

Being cursed at herself for her own incompetence was one thing — but why did her sister’s old, slandered history have to be dragged out too, displayed like a corpse being whipped?

“If you want to cry, just cry.”

Just as Cheng Yao was struggling to hold back tears, she heard Qian Heng’s voice — still just as cold, as if entirely detached from the situation. She looked toward him; he was gazing out the window. She had no idea how he’d noticed she was holding back tears. Some kind of sixth sense?

Being watched by Cheng Yao like this, Qian Heng seemed a bit uncomfortable. He cleared his throat. “You look ugly holding back tears like that.”

At those words, true to form, Cheng Yao burst into tears with a loud wail.

As she cried, wiping her tears in aggrieved fashion, she thought — was Qian Heng even human? Was he human?? She was already this upset, and he still had to say she looked ugly.

Once Cheng Yao started crying, Qian Heng finally seemed to relax, a look of relief crossing his face.

He said, softly, “Finally crying.”

The grievance, resentment, guilt, self-blame, and regret she’d been holding in for days finally poured out along with her tears.

Cheng Yao hadn’t quite caught what he’d said. Still crying, she demanded, “What did you say?”

Qian Heng glanced at her lightly. “I said I was wrong.”

“What? About calling me ugly?”

Qian Heng sighed. “Yes. You’re not ugly when you’re holding back tears.” He paused, looking at her with an expression of some difficulty. “Because you’re even uglier once you actually start crying.”

“…”

Cheng Yao froze for a moment, then, overwhelmed with fresh grief, cried even harder.

“There, there.” Just then, a pale, slender hand entered Cheng Yao’s tear-blurred field of vision. Between those long, elegant fingers was a handkerchief.

“Cheer up.” Qian Heng’s voice sounded a bit unnatural. He looked away, not meeting Cheng Yao’s eyes. “That’s a Burberry handkerchief, and I’m letting you blow your snot into it.”

Cheng Yao didn’t hold back either — having just been attacked as ugly by Qian Heng, she grabbed the handkerchief and, almost in retaliation, actually blew her nose into it.

Once someone starts crying, they tend to lose all sense of reason. Sniffling, Cheng Yao said, “I’m already this miserable, why do you have to insult me on top of it?” The more she thought about it, the more upset she got. “Even if you think I’m ugly, not your type — most people would at least say ‘pretty’ to a girl out of politeness. Can’t you just say I’m pretty, to make me feel a little better?”

She wasn’t actually expecting Qian Heng to have some sudden change of heart — it was just venting.

Normally, no matter how much Qian Heng needled her, Cheng Yao could just laugh it off. But when she was upset, she was more fragile. She was, after all, still a young woman, and no matter how strong she usually was, when she was crying her heart out, she longed for someone to comfort her gently.

Cheng Yao knew perfectly well that this was just how Qian Heng always was, and that his comment wasn’t personally aimed at her. But right now she felt like some righteous hero, smeared and abandoned by the martial world, all her powers stripped away and spat on by the crowd — and here came Qian Heng, the passing villain, mocking her on top of it all. If she didn’t choke on her own rage and cough up blood at this point, she’d hardly be doing herself justice.

But just as Cheng Yao was spiraling in misery, Qian Heng spoke again—

“Pretty.”

Cheng Yao froze.

“You’re quite pretty.”

Cheng Yao forgot to cry entirely. She widened her eyes, looking toward the source of the voice — there really was no one else in the room but Qian Heng. She asked, instinctively, “What?”

Qian Heng finally turned his face away from the window, frowning. “Cheng Yao, know when to stop. I already said pretty.”

“But I know that’s just you being polite…”

“It’s not.”

“Huh?”

Sure enough, Qian Heng’s tone turned sharp again. “Are you hard of hearing? Didn’t I just say it wasn’t politeness?”

Mm, Cheng Yao thought, relieved — that attitude, that’s definitely my boss…

But wait! Not politeness?? So Qian Heng meant…

He’d said pretty.

In that instant, Cheng Yao suddenly felt her heart flutter, racing, her face heating up, the blood in her whole body seeming to accelerate at those words…

A man like Qian Heng, blessed with that face of his, could drop bombs left and right every other day, but at key moments, any tiny inconsistency in his usual demeanor became devastatingly effective.

Cheng Yao, so used to being fed poison by Qian Heng on a daily basis, had, with no warning at all, just been fed a piece of candy instead.

A little bit sweet.

“Cheng Yao, I’d suggest you not get too pleased with yourself.” But before Cheng Yao could fully enjoy the moment, Qian Heng doused her with cold water. “You’ll do, at best average-pretty. Don’t go thinking you’re some kind of heavenly beauty.”

“…”

Even though the candy inevitably still had a little poison mixed in…

it was still a little sweet.