Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Qin Song visited Huang Yuanrui for the second time and finally got his wish: he moved into her little apartment.

Huang Yuanrui’s place wasn’t large-a simple two-bedroom apartment. She mentioned that she had originally shared it with a close friend, but after the friend fell in love and moved out, she had been living there alone.

The apartment was very clean, with grey-white tiles on the floor. She had laid out a large, plush rug in the living room, topped with a cream-colored round table. She was a bit of a neat freak, keeping the floors spotless every day, so she often walked around the house barefoot.

Even though Huang Yuanrui spent all day lounging at home with no source of income, the things she used were all high-end brands. Qin Song noticed that her hairdryer and vacuum cleaner were both Dyson. The vanity was cluttered with skincare and makeup products, most of which bore the Chanel logo. In the closet hung seven or eight bags of various styles-mostly Gucci and Dior, along with a few brands Qin Song didn’t recognize.

Qin Song suggested buying a puppy to keep her company, but Huang Yuanrui refused. She didn’t like small animals, saying they shed fur and carried parasites. She did, however, enjoy keeping flowers. Her living room was filled with all kinds of fresh blooms; she said she bought a new batch every week and would prune and arrange them herself.

Huang Yuanrui turned off the living room lights and switched on the projector to watch *Titanic* with Qin Song.

Stepping onto the plush rug with her bare feet, she gestured for Qin Song to join her. “Take your shoes off and come step on this. This rug is incredibly comfortable.”

Qin Song kicked off his slippers and stepped onto the rug in his socks. It was indeed thick and soft.

He and Huang Yuanrui sat down on the rug, huddling together and chatting softly while they watched the movie.

Huang Yuanrui took two cocktails out of the fridge-one pink and one blue-and set them on the small round table.

“Do you like pink or blue?”

Qin Song tilted his head and thought for a moment. “Pink, I guess.”

“Okay.” Huang Yuanrui picked up the pink cocktail and started drinking it herself.

Qin Song blinked in surprise, then reached for the blue one.

Before his hand could touch the glass, Huang Yuanrui grabbed him.

Huang Yuanrui gripped Qin Song’s chin and tilted his head back, feeding him the pink cocktail mouth-to-mouth.

Qin Song let out a few muffled hums before he stopped resisting, cupping Huang Yuanrui’s face and leaning into her.

Once the mouthful of pink liquor was gone, Huang Yuanrui wiped the corner of her mouth with satisfaction. She gave a triumphant little smile and turned back to the movie.

Qin Song’s inexplicable sense of possessiveness flared up. “Who taught you that?”

Huang Yuanrui looked at him earnestly. “No one taught me. You don’t need to be taught this, Uncle. Didn’t you read those spicy historical romance novels when you were a teenager? That’s how the male leads always feed the female leads tea.”

Qin Song: “…”

That night, Qin Song slept in Huang Yuanrui’s bed. Her bed was exceptionally soft, with light blue sheets and a creamy-white duvet dotted with little bear patterns. A row of plush toys lined the headboard: shapes of chocolate, waffles, ice cream, and even two starfish and a crab.

Qin Song felt that Huang Yuanrui was essentially a little rabbit at heart. Though she could be feisty and sharp-tongued at times, she was a cute, gentle woman deep down.

Qin Song liked soft women most of all. In his view, a woman’s exterior could be flashy or assertive, but her heart had to be soft and, more importantly, obedient.

She could be strong-willed, but his own true strength had to be able to overwhelm her minor stubbornness.

She could be sharp, but that little bit of edge should only be an accent; her foundation had to remain gentle.

Huang Yuanrui met every one of Qin Song’s criteria.