Chapter 81: That Princess-like Girl (1) |
"What is it?"
Zhang Shutong asked Gu Qiumian, catching a glimpse of her delicate collarbones.
Was she worried he'd sneak into her room?
Speaking of rooms, he wondered if he'd been too presumptuous—this guest room hadn't even been assigned to him yet, and he'd just come up here on his own.
The hallway was quiet, the door half-open. Looking over, the dark carpet complemented the floral wallpaper, creating a thick classical atmosphere that made her seem like a princess stepping out of an oil painting.
Now the noble princess stood at her bedroom door, questioning the fleeing knight:
"What are you doing staying here by yourself?"
"Chatting with a friend. Didn't want to disturb you all." The knight had a legitimate excuse.
"Is it that important?" The princess was disappointed in him.
"Are you done yet?"
What counted as "done"?
Zhang Shutong thought for a moment:
"You go down first. I'll just go to sleep in a bit."
But Gu Qiumian pushed the door fully open without further discussion:
"Who said you're staying here? You're sleeping downstairs tonight."
"What about Teacher Song?" Zhang Shutong remembered there were only two guest rooms on the first floor, one of which was the maid's room.
"He's staying on the third floor."
How many damn guest rooms does your family have?
He'd still underestimated Miss Gu's methods. On her turf, dealing with him would be easy.
He changed his approach:
"I'm a bit tired today. Sorry."
Then Gu Qiumian stopped talking, her face visibly growing cold:
"Then stay here by yourself!"
She closed the door and walked away without a backward glance.
Her hair wasn't dry yet. When she whipped her head around, it seemed like faint droplets of water splashed onto his face. Zhang Shutong wiped his nose, watching her stride quickly into the elevator and go downstairs without a word.
The hallway became quiet again, the felt carpet absorbing all sound. The door stood wide open, the doorframe revealing only expensive wallpaper—like an oil painting without its protagonist, leaving only the background.
No matter how intricate the patterns, they lost all meaning without her.
Zhang Shutong closed the door, lay back on the bed, and called Qingyi.
"What just happened?"
"Gu Qiumian came by." Zhang Shutong lazily stretched his limbs, his whole body feeling like it was falling apart.
"Oh, I forgot to ask earlier—how'd you end up staying at Gu Qiumian's place?"
He briefly explained, and Qingyi said in surprise:
"And you're still chatting with me?"
"What else?"
"Of course you should go downstairs and watch a movie with her! There's snow falling outside, the TV light illuminating your faces—it'd be romantic."
"She's watching Stephen Chow." Zhang Shutong reminded him.
"Oh, never mind then."
Wait, wait, wait.
Zhang Shutong just realized—since when did this guy's romantic handbook include women?
Shouldn't he be saying something like "a man's romance is walking in the snow"?
He sighed:
"I'm being weird, aren't I?"
"More than weird."
"Gu Qiumian seemed angry just now."
"Of course she'd be angry."
"But I'm not in the mood," Zhang Shutong didn't want to move at all right now. If it weren't for a few unanswered questions, he'd already be asleep. "I know it kills the atmosphere—everyone's in high spirits and you're there with a sour face, like some antisocial brat, but... forget it, let's talk about the important stuff."
He asked again:
"What were you suggesting I do earlier?"
"I suggest you guys secure the keys first. Her family should have spare keys, right? Then tell Gu Qiumian not to go out at night for a while. Doesn't she have a dog? Once her dad gets back, it should be fine."
"Maybe." Zhang Shutong rubbed his brow, unsure whether to say you're thinking too simply, because he'd thought the same thing last time, but Gu Qiumian had still been killed.
"You seem kind of stressed," Qingyi said strangely. "I'm treating this like a brain teaser, but Shutong, you're giving off this feeling that... this thing is definitely going to happen?"
"I'm a deep thinker." Zhang Shutong joked casually. "Actually, I'm worried Lu Qinglian might harm her. It's like the dispute on Commercial Street—isn't her family's temple being demolished too? Though there's no conflict of interest this time, there might be something more troublesome than money."
"Then go watch the movie. Relax. Haven't you heard the saying? Putting everything on your own shoulders is actually a sign of arrogance."
Zhang Shutong thought about it but didn't feel arrogant. It was just a habit.
He didn't really want to talk about this anymore.
But he wasn't interested in movies either, so he chatted with Qingyi about other things. Eventually they pulled Ruoping and Du Kang into the call. Du Kang didn't respond—probably busy—but Ruoping came in excitedly.
"I just saw on TV that our snow made it onto the city news. Let's build a snowman tomorrow!"
"No." Qingyi was the first to refuse, then said, remember last year when it snowed? You also said you wanted to build a snowman and called the three of us to help. What happened?
Zhang Shutong remembered too. The result was the three of them were responsible for "building" the snowman while she was responsible for keeping her hands in her pockets and taking photos. Truly "lending a hand."
"I have experience this time..." Ruoping laughed awkwardly to cover it up.
"Rich experience in photography?"
"Qingyi, you're asking for it!"
Zhang Shutong stopped talking, smiling as he listened to them bicker. He found it quite sleep-inducing. He simply put it on speaker, tossed his phone beside his pillow, and stared at the ceiling in a daze.
"I actually want to go sledding. There's a slope behind the mountain that's not too steep. Shutong said Old Song's tire blew out—what if we get the tire from him, nail a plank underneath, and make a sled?"
"Yeah, yeah! We could make it Friday after school, then go Saturday. Wait, weren't we supposed to buy birthday presents Saturday? So morning for shopping, afternoon for sledding?"
He listened to them plan everything back and forth, about to chime in, when there was a knock at the door.
The voices by his pillow had covered the sound of the elevator door opening, so his reaction was a beat slow.
Zhang Shutong glanced at his phone. Only six or seven minutes had passed. Had Gu Qiumian not given up and still wanted to drag him down to watch the movie?
Then he got a headache. No matter how good the villa's soundproofing was, standing outside the door, she could still hear voices inside. He'd just said he was tired, then immediately turned around to chat with his friends. In Gu Qiumian's ears, that was basically the same as lying through his teeth.
It was like inviting someone to dinner and them saying they had a fever and didn't want to go, only for you to run into them that evening at a restaurant, sitting with other people, laughing and chatting.
Sure enough, the knocking stopped. The person outside seemed to have heard the cheerful discussion inside.
Zhang Shutong exited the call, sat up from the bed, and reluctantly opened the door. Gu Qiumian's face had completely frozen over.
He hadn't been her lackey all this time for nothing—he could tell when she was really angry versus just acting.
For example, on the way home when she said he should pay for a thermos, looking cold as ice—that was an act.
Now, though, was real.