Chapter 10
Once is a mistake. Twice is deliberate.
Chi Mo wasn’t bored enough to stage some dramatic “dating my ex’s best friend to get back at my ex” scenario. So when she came out of the bathroom, she was fully prepared to have a very serious, rigorous, and sincere talk with Song Huaiyu.
Except she circled the entire downstairs and found no one. She was standing in the living room, glancing around blankly, when she heard the faint sound of running water from upstairs.
Wait—what are you taking a shower for, dude?!
Chi Mo’s mouth fell open right where she stood, her face scrunching into a crumpled mess.
Song Huaiyu had driven nearly ten hours just to bring her back from Huaicheng. Right now, that fact was somehow more exasperating than the ten years Chi Mo had wasted on a relationship that went nowhere.
She took a deep breath at the bottom of the stairs and headed up.
When Song Huaiyu came out of the bathroom, he found Chi Mo sitting ramrod straight.
She hadn’t dared sit anywhere near the bed—she’d even dragged the chair all the way to the far corner. But the moment she looked up, she immediately slapped a hand over her eyes.
Song Huaiyu glanced down at himself. He wasn’t wearing a shirt. Was that really such a big deal?
“Come on, it’s not like you haven’t seen it before.” He tossed the towel he’d been using on his hair back into the bathroom and sat down on the bed, rubbing his neck.
Chi Mo shrieked, “I was drunk that day! Even if I saw something, I don’t remember, okay?!”
Song Huaiyu paused mid-motion. Two seconds later, he let out a baffled laugh. “What? We never went to pool parties together? Was I wearing a full-body suit or something?”
“.......”
Shit. She’d forgotten about that.
Chi Mo slowly lowered her hands and let out a defeated sigh.
Song Huaiyu shot her a look. “What ‘heart-to-heart’ are you trying to have this time?”
“I’m hungry. Can I fry an egg in your kitchen?” Chi Mo asked, then added, “Also, I saw coffee beans. Can I use your coffee machine to make a cup?”
Song Huaiyu paused again. Then he crooked a finger. “Come on.”
He got up and walked ahead.
Chi Mo followed, muttering, “I can do it myself... you don’t have to...”
Song Huaiyu turned his head and looked at her. “I’m eating too.”
“Then I’ll just fry one for you too, won’t that do?”
“Chi Mo, what’s your problem? You get off on waiting on men or something?”
His words made Chi Mo’s footsteps slow on the stairs.
Ever since Guan Yizhou moved out of the family home, his mother had frozen his credit card and given him a monthly allowance of twenty thousand. Once it ran out, he had to wait until the next month.
Chi Mo’s salary had only barely reached around twenty-five thousand starting the year before last.
For an ordinary family, that was already more than enough.
They had no loans, just the two of them, and the car and house both belonged to the Guan family. Even so, Guan Yizhou’s spending was simply too high.
Chi Mo hadn’t managed to save much over the years. Aside from a cleaning lady, she’d also let the cook go last year.
Guan Yizhou rarely ate at home anyway. On the occasional night he did, Chi Mo would stop by the market after work and throw something together.
Then there were the little household chores.
Not many, but tedious enough to wear you down. Chi Mo spent nearly all her spare time on them.
Waiting on men? Could you really call this waiting on men? She lived in that house too—how could life not come with chores?
She allowed herself one second of self-pity before planting her hands on her hips and glaring at Song Huaiyu. “There’s no explaining anything to you rich boys. What the hell would you know!”
With that, she quickened her pace, shoved past Song Huaiyu, and strode into the kitchen first.
She grabbed an egg, heated the pan—and before she could crack the egg in, a hand reached out from behind her.
“Rich boy?” Song Huaiyu gave her a sidelong glance. “With your cooking skills, you’re mocking me?”
He pushed Chi Mo aside.
Sizzle.
Bubbles ringed the edge of the egg white.
Chi Mo’s whole face scrunched up. It took her a moment before she burst out, “That bastard Guan Yizhou—just how much trash did he talk about me to you guys?”
“He didn’t talk trash.” Song Huaiyu’s tone turned inexplicably strange. “Chi Mo, he really did fall in love with you.”
Chi Mo’s expression froze. She could barely believe her ears.
It wasn’t the question of whether Guan Yizhou loved her—it was that those words had actually come out of Song Huaiyu’s mouth.
“...Did you take the wrong meds? Saying something like that out of nowhere? Song Huaiyu? Are you actually Song Huaiyu?”
The egg flipped, another spray of oil popping up. The aroma had already filled the air, and the coffee machine whirred to life...
Chi Mo was both starving and stunned.
She wanted to rip off Song Huaiyu’s mask and see exactly what kind of “ulterior motive” was hidden underneath.
But Song Huaiyu didn’t speak right away. He waited for the egg to finish, turned off the gas, wiped his hands with a paper towel, and then turned around.
Chi Mo was dumbfounded by the whole fluid sequence.
“What are you doing?”
She stared into his eyes and took half a step back.
That bastard actually pressed his advantage, stepping forward twice to trap her against the glass door.
Song Huaiyu leaned in, and a faint scent of body wash drifted into Chi Mo’s nose.
His eyes were hazy with moisture—maybe from staying up all night—and the corners were tinged red. Chi Mo shook her head at the sight.
They were too close. Ambiguity crackled between them, abrupt and alarming, as if there really were something going on.
Honestly, Chi Mo would’ve preferred he were a total stranger.
Because this feeling was too bizarre—she couldn’t even find a word for it.
Couldn’t even come up with a metaphor.
Beyond leaning back to dodge, Chi Mo couldn’t manage anything more useful.
But Song Huaiyu wouldn’t let her escape. He pressed a hand to the back of her neck and pulled her toward him.
Their eyes met, long lashes laden with emotion.
He asked in a low voice, “Does it make you happy to hear me say that?”
Chi Mo wasn’t quite sure what he meant, so she answered honestly, “It’s alright.”
“What do you mean, alright?”
“I was Guan Yizhou’s girlfriend for ten years. Isn’t it only natural that he loves me?”
“That’s it?”
“That’s it.”
“And you? Do you still love him?”
Ding, ding, ding.
Several messages came in rapid succession, Chi Mo’s phone ringing multiple times. More bizarrely, Song Huaiyu’s phone—which he’d tossed onto the sofa when he came in—rang right along with hers.
When Chi Mo didn’t answer, Song Huaiyu let out a cold laugh and released her.
Ding ding ding.
They rang simultaneously again.
He turned to plate the fried egg, set it on the island counter in front of Chi Mo, and sneered, “You still haven’t left the group chat?”
The explanation was simple: new messages had appeared in a group they both belonged to.
Chi Mo ignored him, grabbing chopsticks to eat while pulling out her phone to scroll through.
“It’s Zhao Yunfei’s birthday,” Chi Mo said, scrolling further. “Yuan Siyu says he can’t make it—his family set up a blind date for him that day.”
Song Huaiyu slid a cup of coffee toward her. “Milk and sugar?”
“Yeah.” Chi Mo kept reading. “Zhao Yunfei sent a bunch of emojis and tagged some other people. Zhou Xiaomeng says she’s free, but she wants to bring her boyfriend.”
Song Huaiyu didn’t respond, cracking open a second egg.
“Oh.” Chi Mo bit down on her chopsticks and raised an eyebrow. “When did Xia Nini get back in the country? She’s asking in the group if you’re going.”
Song Huaiyu turned, plucked the chopsticks from Chi Mo’s hand, and shoved a fork into her grip instead.
Chi Mo bit down on the fork. “Xu Yicheng answered for you—said you’ve been busy lately and haven’t even been picking up your phone.”
“Chi Mo, bite that one more time and you’re eating with your hands.”
Chi Mo scoffed and kept reading the group messages. “Guan Yizhou says... huh? He says you got a girlfriend recently? Helping her wash skirts at home... huh?” She looked up at Song Huaiyu. “Which girlfriend are you washing skirts for?”