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Just as he went to buy milk tea for Lin Xiaoyu, the cashier preempted him.
“You’d like a full-sugar, iced mango pomelo sago, correct?”
He couldn’t help but marvel inwardly, ‘It was truly a testament to a milk tea shop located near a university, where even the part-time staff were endowed with such impressive recall.’
In his previous stint as a delivery driver, his colleagues, though kind-hearted, were notoriously forgetful, often losing track of their orders’ locations within mere minutes, inevitably leading them to take unnecessarily long detours.
For those two months, Pei Xingyan had meticulously planned his routes, a skill that consistently earned him the coveted ‘Monthly Gold Rider’ award.
Yet, his tenure was brief, lasting only two months.
That intense period imparted a singular, stark lesson to Pei Xingyan: laboring for others would never lead to true wealth, and in such a system, effort and hardship were ultimately rendered meaningless.
Consequently, he withdrew from that path, resolving to find a different way forward…
Recalling the past was a dangerous indulgence, a labyrinth from which it was hard to escape.
Pei Xingyan shook his head, consciously pulling himself free from the grip of his memories.
The only reason he remained was to await a particular person.
He was waiting for Ye Ziwei.
Every few days, Ye Ziwei would invent a new pretext to visit him, her presence undeniable.
Rejection was a futile endeavor; whether Pei Xingyan was truly occupied or merely feigning it, an uncanny ‘coincidence’ would invariably lead her to his side, where she would then encircle him with a look of feigned delight.
Pei Xingyan harbored a growing suspicion that Ye Ziwei had, at some point, implanted a tracking chip, perhaps within his phone or even beneath his skin.
To spare himself the trouble of moving, he had simply relayed his current location, choosing to remain seated exactly where he was.
As dusk began to settle, the mall swelled with a greater throng of people.
Couples, now emerging in pairs, clung to each other with a cloying intimacy, their steps unsteady, creating minor obstructions in the bustling thoroughfares.
Despite their overly saccharine displays and the inconvenience they caused, the smiles gracing their faces were undeniably sincere.
Pei Xingyan quietly observed the scene unfolding beyond the glass.
In truth, from a certain perspective, he too harbored a profound longing for love.
Who, after all, would not desire a partner capable of understanding, supporting, and loving them unconditionally?
However, his present circumstances were far from conducive to such a desire.
To spare his mother an unbearably long prison sentence and to prevent his father from meeting a violent end—though, he recalled, executions were now typically carried out by lethal injection—Pei Xingyan had shouldered an astronomical burden of debt.
What’s more, this society offered few individuals willing to endure hardship alongside another.
This scarcity applied not only to romantic partners but to friends as well; no one desired to plunge themselves into a life of struggle for the sake of ephemeral emotions.
Yet, to be entirely truthful… Ye Ziwei was precisely such a person.
Pei Xingyan was convinced that she was the kind of girl who would, under no circumstances, ever abandon him.
Indeed, she was even more fiercely determined to prevent him from leaving her.
Were it not for her meticulous performance of normalcy, there was no telling what extremes she might resort to.
Nevertheless, he genuinely feared her, a trepidation that had only deepened after he bore witness to her numerous machinations.
Ye Ziwei possessed many admirable qualities, save for a pervasive streak of obsessiveness that had only grown more pronounced after her severe illness.
During her most critical phase, he had been her constant caregiver, a devotion that, once her condition stabilized, fostered in her a profound dependency, an inability to function without him.
Her affections had spiraled into an increasingly twisted obsession, manifesting in her systematic removal of other women from his life, employing every imaginable stratagem.
Naturally, the specifics concerning her motives and their timeline were entirely Pei Xingyan’s own conjectures.
He remained uncertain of the precise moment Ye Ziwei’s gaze had transformed, though he suspected her intentions had been impure from the very beginning.
After all, wasn’t it said that ‘bad seeds are born, not made’?
Therefore, Ye Ziwei’s devious nature, too, must have been innate; she had merely, by an unfortunate twist of fate, set her sights on him as her chosen target…
****
His backside having grown numb from prolonged sitting, Pei Xingyan rose, intending to stretch his legs for a moment.
It was then that he happened to spot Ye Ziwei, navigating the bustling crowd with an unsteady gait.
Leaning heavily on her cane, she progressed with visible effort and difficulty.
Yet, an undeniable aura of power emanated from her; with a furrowed brow, she surveyed her surroundings, causing the men and women on either side to instinctively part, forming a clear path as if in deference to an inspecting empress.
Only upon catching sight of the young man standing by the entrance did her stern expression melt, her eyes curving into soft crescents, and her pace quicken by several increments.
Whether by design or sheer coincidence, just as she drew level with Pei Xingyan, the cane she relied upon suddenly slipped, sending her off balance.
She tumbled forward, collapsing directly into his waiting arms.
Yet, she betrayed no hint of alarm.
Instead, she simply smiled up at Pei Xingyan with unadulterated joy, her arms encircling his waist.
Gazling up at his face, she playfully extended a small sliver of her tongue, then, with a bashful shrug of her shoulders, shook her head, feigning a charming embarrassment.
Pei Xingyan offered a strained, almost forced, chuckle in return.
While the girl’s true intentions could, at times, easily be deemed ‘malicious,’ her beauty was undeniably authentic.
Even in her ailing state, she possessed an allure that made it impossible to avert one’s gaze.
“I can’t walk anymore~” she purred, her voice laced with deliberate coquetry.
Pei Xingyan bent down, reaching out to steady her.
With an air of profound satisfaction, she nestled her body against his shoulder, a pose so intimate it resembled an embrace.
Together, they swept into the milk tea shop with the grand entrance of a bridal couple at their wedding.
****
“Why ever would you invite me to a place like this?” Ye Ziwei inquired, her tone tinged with curiosity.
“Don’t you despise sweet things?”
She fidgeted restlessly in her chair, one hand ceaselessly massaging her calf, a deliberate motion to stimulate blood flow.
“Allow me,” Pei Xingyan offered, stepping forward.
“You look as though you’re on the verge of collapsing from exhaustion.”
“Alright~”
Without a moment’s hesitation, Ye Ziwei extended her leg, gracefully resting her foot upon his thigh.
Just as Ye Ziwei meticulously crafted the illusion of an innocent, benevolent girl for his benefit, so too did Pei Xingyan deploy his own theatrical abilities in her presence.
He was compelled to present himself as equally enamored with Ye Ziwei, at times even initiating subtle physical contact, feigning a greater intimacy to reinforce her belief that she held all the cards, and that his affection for her was sincere.
While such actions promised boundless future complications, they represented the most advantageous course for navigating their immediate predicament.
He meticulously pressed and glided his hands over Ye Ziwei’s calf, and with each touch, the girl’s breathing grew noticeably heavier.
It was unclear whether this was due to the intensity of his touch or her own heightened excitement.
Ye Ziwei’s legs were exquisitely pale and delicate, devoid of the cadaverous pallor often seen in those long inactive.
Her feet, bare of any socks, long or short, revealed the smooth, refined expanse of her skin to his gaze.
She wore ballet-flat-style shoes that day, not for dancing, but because the weakness in her legs and feet made overly soft soles impractical.
Her feet were tiny, with delicate blue-green veins faintly tracing across her insteps.
The slightest tremor of her small foot was enough to send a ripple through one’s own heart.
“Xingyan Gege…” she murmured, her head bowed, a shy question hanging in the air.
“Weiwei’s… is it… pretty?”
So shy was she that she couldn’t even bring herself to name the body part in question, instead shrinking her neck and covering her mouth, perfectly embodying the image of a pure, inexperienced maiden.
“Yes, it’s beautiful,” Pei Xingyan affirmed, his gaze unwavering from her leg.
He sneered inwardly.
‘Ye Ziwei’s acting was truly exceptional; her portrayal of shyness was so vivid and convincing that an unsuspecting observer would undoubtedly mistake her for a chaste, innocent maiden.’
In truth, however, he knew all too well that the answer Ye Ziwei truly craved was not a mere declaration of ‘beautiful,’ but rather the addition of ‘shove it in my mouth.’
She was a woman whose every desire was brazenly etched across the very core of her being.