The situation turned abruptly, completely exceeding Chen Qingwu’s expectations.

At this critical juncture, Chen Qingwu inexplicably thought of her father Chen Suiliang’s assessment of Meng Fuyuan.

It should have been during a card game one New Year when Meng Fuyuan won four consecutive rounds, winning until no one had any complaints left.

At that time, Chen Suiliang had said he was most afraid of playing cards with Fuyuan—not to mention his inscrutability, no matter how bad the hand, once it reached him, through patient cultivation, there was a high probability he’d find a sliver of hope and turn the tables.

This was exactly that situation now.

She never imagined she would be the one outmaneuvered.

Her brain short-circuited, her heart seeming to malfunction as well.

And Meng Fuyuan just stared at her without moving an inch, as if not giving her the slightest chance to employ her old tricks and evade the topic.

Her heart brimming with indescribable complex emotions, her ability to organize language seemed to fail.

“…I really don’t seem to have the ability to say one thing and mean another.” In the end, Chen Qingwu closed her eyes and said as if resigned to fate, “You understand me better than I understand myself.”

Meng Fuyuan only felt the breath stuck in his throat slowly ease.

He held her wrist and had her sit on the sofa, while he sat on the coffee table across from her, bending slightly forward.

Their knees pressed close together, like the scene from last time.

Meng Fuyuan studied Chen Qingwu, reached out, and took her hand resting on her leg.

She paused but didn’t struggle.

So he held her hand in his, gazed at her, and said earnestly, “Qingwu, I only hope that all your current decisions are based purely on your heart. The only reason I can accept for you drawing a line with me is if one day you tell me yourself that you have absolutely no interest in me.”

“…You already know that’s not the case.”

Palm to palm, Chen Qingwu could feel a thin layer of sweat in Meng Fuyuan’s palm. It seemed he’d never been afraid to let her know his weakness—he hadn’t been that composed and calm just now; in truth, he’d been terribly afraid.

“But I have to tell you, right now there’s only this much…” Chen Qingwu raised her other hand, using her thumb and index finger to show a gap. Seeming to think that gap was too small, she opened them a bit more. “Just this much.”

Meng Fuyuan laughed softly.

He suddenly lowered his head, pressing his forehead against the back of the hand he was holding.

His voice hoarse, he said, “Any amount is fine.”

How could one who has long dwelt in darkness disdain even the faintest firefly light?

He’d worked so hard for so long to finally gain a foothold with her.

Chen Qingwu looked down at Meng Fuyuan, deeply moved, unable to restrain herself.

Such a noble person—this gesture of pressing forehead to hand held only a kind of devout infatuation.

That patch on the back of her hand seemed to burn hot like a brand.

“Meng Fuyuan…”

The person whose name was called raised his head.

“…Why do you like me?” Chen Qingwu couldn’t help but ask.

“I’d like to know why you’re only asking now?” Meng Fuyuan looked at her. “Didn’t dare before?”

“Did I guess right again?”

Chen Qingwu tried to pull her hand away. Meng Fuyuan immediately tightened his grip again. “Remember that time? When I had a layover from Beicheng and went with Qiran to pick you up from school for dinner.”

Chen Qingwu nodded.

“You were doing ceramics then, very focused. I didn’t recognize you at first glance.”

“And then?”

“Then…”

Meng Fuyuan realized that analyzing his mental journey face-to-face was too difficult for him. “…Must you know right now?”

“What, I dare to ask but you don’t dare to say?” Chen Qingwu laughed lightly.

“I don’t dare.”

This tone was so frank she had nothing to say.

“Alright… then you must tell me next time.”

“Okay.”

As they talked, Meng Fuyuan kept gently holding her hand—not intimate in a flirtatious way, but exceptionally close and tender.

When one begins to covet, does it mean one is another step closer to complete surrender?

She had a premonition that perhaps before long, she wouldn’t have much rationality left to continue resisting.

The coffee table suddenly vibrated.

It was Meng Fuyuan’s phone.

Chen Qingwu immediately withdrew her hand. “…Your call.”

Meng Fuyuan reached over to grab his phone and looked at it. “Work call. Give me a moment to answer.”

“…Mm. It’s fine, take it first.”

Meng Fuyuan picked up his phone to answer and walked toward the window.

Chen Qingwu picked up the glass of water on the coffee table and drained it in one gulp, still feeling thirsty, so she took the glass and walked to the island counter.

While pouring water, she glanced at the figure standing by the window, raised her hand to lightly press her cheek, trying to make it cool down faster.

The call was brief—seemed to be someone from the technical department reporting on project progress. It was over quickly.

The moment he hung up, Chen Qingwu spoke, “Well… I probably should go back.”

Meng Fuyuan looked over. “Won’t stay a bit longer?”

“…Don’t you need to rest early after your business trip?”

“I’ll be lucky if I don’t have insomnia tonight.”

Chen Qingwu couldn’t help but smile.

“Want a tour?”

Chen Qingwu heard the studied casualness in Meng Fuyuan’s words. “…Sure.”

The apartment had a three-bedroom, two-living-room layout with conventional decoration.

Chen Qingwu followed behind Meng Fuyuan. “I always thought you’d bought property in Dongcheng.”

“No time to arrange that. This is close to the company, which is convenient.”

Chen Qingwu didn’t look closely at the master bedroom—just glanced from the doorway and stepped back out.

The second bedroom was spacious, next to the guest bathroom, with no signs of habitation.

“Pei Shao said he lives upstairs? Why didn’t you two share?”

“He’s too noisy.”

Chen Qingwu laughed.

As they talked, Meng Fuyuan pushed open the study door.

Being a rental apartment, the other spaces maintained very restrained simplicity, except for the study.

This room was arranged very similarly to Meng Fuyuan’s study in Nancheng—the same combination of desk, workstation, and reading corner, with bookshelves equally packed full.

Chen Qingwu walked around the central workstation and saw a mechanical figure on it.

About forty centimeters tall, steampunk style, with torso and limbs assembled from various parts, and two round gears for eyes.

“Is it a decorative piece? Very interesting.”

“It’s a robot. Voice-controlled.”

Chen Qingwu quickly asked how to control it.

Meng Fuyuan said, “Frankenstein.”

The mechanical robot’s gear eyes began to turn, then emitted a “clack-clack-clack” sound like stuttering.

Meng Fuyuan commanded, “Turn off the study lights.”

The mechanical robot: “As you command.”

The study lights switched off in response.

In complete darkness, Meng Fuyuan commanded again, “Turn on the desk lamp.”

Light from the living room shone in, so the study wasn’t entirely dark. Chen Qingwu could just barely see the mechanical robot’s movements:

It moved its bolt-assembled legs haltingly toward the desk lamp in the corner. Reaching the lamp, it stopped, bent at the waist, swung its arms, seeming to fine-tune.

After a moment, its finger pressed down, landing precisely on the lamp’s button.

Amber light came on, illuminating the area around the workstation.

Chen Qingwu exclaimed in wonder, “Did you make this yourself?”

“Mm. Just an algorithm I wrote when bored. Very basic AI, no different from a toy.”

“What level is the medical robotic arm you’re making?”

“It supports remote operation for minimally invasive surgery, with 3D vision and tactile feedback.”

“Can it replace a surgeon?”

“Of course not at this stage. Besides technical issues, there are also ethical issues.”

Chen Qingwu nodded. “But I always feel that one day in the future, practitioners in most industries will be replaced by AI. Even the industry I’m in.”

“I actually think your industry will always have space for handmade work to survive.”

Chen Qingwu said with a smile, “I hope I won’t be unemployed by then.”

She stepped forward to examine the little robot carefully.

Honestly, since Meng Fuyuan went to university, her understanding of him had been limited to fragments from elders and Meng Qiran: he’d gotten offers from Ivy League schools, graduated successfully, established his company, developed products successfully, secured financing, reached partnerships…

As if he were a paper cutout that could be summarized with the four-character label “elite professional.”

If she hadn’t gotten close to him, how would she know that he watched French New Wave films, would name his robot after the monster “Frankenstein,” would give her a box of flowers as a gift?

Would have such restrained affection?

She suddenly felt a bit regretful about knowing nothing about him in the past.

Chen Qingwu raised her hand, shook “Frankenstein’s” hand, and suddenly said, “It’s quite quiet here. Usually no one disturbs you, right?”

Seeming to have a follow-up, Meng Fuyuan looked at her but didn’t speak for a moment.

She didn’t turn around but said calmly, “From now on, I’ll come find you.”

A moment of silence.

Chen Qingwu didn’t hear an answer.

Just as she was feeling puzzled, she suddenly felt a faint breath approach from behind. Then an arm reached over.

Brushing past her arm, it reached toward “Frankenstein.”

His finger pressed a mechanical button on the robot’s chest, and it “clack-clack-clacked” as it straightened its torso again.

At the same time, Meng Fuyuan’s voice sounded behind her, “Don’t overestimate me, Qingwu. There are some things I don’t do not because I don’t want to.”

The hand that had pressed the button dropped down and, as if naturally, rested on the table edge beside her. “…In my place, I won’t give you that guarantee.”

Chen Qingwu’s fingers clenched tight, her heart instantly suspended, that slight weightlessness like boarding a rapidly ascending roller coaster.

His breathing was heavy, right behind and above her head.

Unable to breathe, much less speak. She couldn’t determine whether she didn’t dare move at all out of fear or out of vague anticipation.

With no similar experience for reference, the current situation had far exceeded the limits she could handle.

“Oh.”

Meng Fuyuan paused.

He absolutely hadn’t expected this reaction from Chen Qingwu.

Then he saw her fingers loosen, press on the table edge, and suddenly turn around.

Meng Fuyuan immediately stepped back half a step.

Chen Qingwu looked up, meeting his eyes. “You don’t even dare tell me why you like me. Who’d believe you’re bluffing?”

After a moment, Meng Fuyuan calmly said, “Frankenstein. Turn off the lights.”

A series of “clack-clack-clack” sounds from the robot.

The instant the lamp button was pressed, the light went out.

Darkness everywhere.

Chen Qingwu blinked. This time she was genuinely panicked and instinctively reached out to push.

But she only heard Meng Fuyuan laugh softly, then reach out and turn on the desk lamp himself.

Chen Qingwu realized that Meng Fuyuan actually hadn’t really intended to do anything, as if he’d already predicted her reaction.

But she no longer dared to provoke him. Steadying herself, she asked, “…What time is it?”

Meng Fuyuan raised his wrist to check his watch. “Ten thirty.”

“…I should go back.”

“Alright.”

Walking out of the study, Chen Qingwu’s heartbeat was still intense.

Passing through the living room, her steps paused slightly as she looked at the coffee table. “That cup…”

Meng Fuyuan walked over, put it back in the paper bag, brought it over and handed it to her. “If you don’t mind, I’m giving it to you.”

“It’s the first piece you made yourself. Sure you don’t want to keep it as a memento?”

“Giving it to you is the best memento.”

Chen Qingwu nodded in a daze.

They entered the elevator together. Chen Qingwu held the paper bag, glancing up from the corner of her eye to steal a look at Meng Fuyuan, then withdrawing her gaze.

A “ding” sound—the elevator doors opened.

Chen Qingwu stepped out while saying, “Go back up. I can get back myself.”

“I’ll see you off.”

“I drove here myself.”

“I know.”

“…You know and you’re still seeing me off?”

Meng Fuyuan’s steps didn’t stop, clearly very insistent.

Chen Qingwu had no choice but to go along with him. “Then have your driver bring your car to pick you up.”

“Okay.”

Chen Qingwu walked out side by side with him, saying with a laugh, “This is so absurd.”

She’d thought that last time when she let a shared bicycle ride in a Porsche’s trunk was the most absurd thing she could imagine in her lifetime.

Meng Fuyuan still nodded. “Indeed.”

Meng Fuyuan took her car keys, wanting to drive for her.

She didn’t decline, happy to enjoy sitting in the passenger seat.

A forty-minute drive was enough for them to extend the aftertaste of tonight’s ups and downs.

Chen Qingwu held the paper bag and cracked open the window a sliver.

The night breeze was slightly cool, yet it seemed unable to cool her mood.

They didn’t really discuss any particular topics—all shallow, all distracted.

Before they knew it, they’d arrived at the studio entrance.

After parking, Chen Qingwu asked, “Where has the driver gotten to?”

“Don’t know. Should be arriving soon.”

“Want to come in and wait?”

“No need. I’ll go to the entrance…”

“Then I’ll wait in the car with you for a bit.”

Chen Qingwu raised her hand and turned up the volume. The radio was playing very old songs—she didn’t hear a single line.

Neither did Meng Fuyuan.

Neither of them spoke, as if by tacit agreement savoring a silent intoxication.

After about fifteen minutes, Meng Fuyuan’s phone rang.

The driver informed him the car had arrived at the creative park entrance and would be there momentarily.

In less than two minutes, they saw two beams of headlights pierce the night.

Both came to their senses simultaneously.

Opening the car door and getting out, Meng Fuyuan returned the car keys to Chen Qingwu.

“…Tell me when you get home.” Chen Qingwu took the keys.

“Okay.”

“Then… good night.”

“Good night.”

Chen Qingwu paused, then turned toward the studio entrance.

Stepping up to the door and taking out her keys, before unlocking, she unconsciously turned around.

Not surprisingly, Meng Fuyuan still stood in place with one hand in his pocket, steadily watching her.

Her hand holding the keys tightened. She turned back, opened the door, then turned around again. “Hurry back.”

“Mm.”

Only then did Meng Fuyuan open his car door.

Chen Qingwu entered, turned on the lights, and heard the sound of a car starting outside. She looked out, saw the car drive past the entrance, all sounds receding, before closing the door.

Walking to the coffee table, she took out the cup.

She squatted down. Just as she was examining the cup carefully, her phone vibrated.

[Yuan-gege patted me and was arrested for the crime of picking quarrels and provoking trouble]

Meng Fuyuan: …

Chen Qingwu laughed out loud.

She clicked on Meng Fuyuan’s profile picture and changed the nickname from its previous form to “Meng Fuyuan.”

Only then did she reply: That’s what you get for patting randomly.

[Meng Fuyuan patted me and was arrested for the crime of picking quarrels and provoking trouble]

[Meng Fuyuan patted me and was arrested for the crime of picking quarrels and provoking trouble]