Chapter 16#
Zhao Rong maintained his smile.
Thanks again to Young Master Qiao for training him to maintain a smile no matter what the situation.
“Since I’m already here,” he turned his head, his gaze bypassing Lu Xingping and glancing vaguely inside Lu Xingping’s house, “you won’t make me stand here, right? In a while, the security guard might come ask me for contact information.”
“?”
“Thinking I’m a new colleague.”
Lu Xingping laughed out loud.
“If I close the door, won’t you leave?”
Although he said this, he turned around and walked into the house first, without closing the door.
He was open about his disdain and open about his reception.
Even though in the past two years, he and Zhao Rong didn’t seem to have much private interaction, he was still calm, no different from his attitude when they were in school, making people exceptionally relaxed.
Zhao Rong was stunned for a moment, vaguely understanding why he always felt he and Lu Xingping were completely different.
He had lived two lifetimes, losing more and gaining less, and had been a “good-for-nothing” for so many years. Even if he could handle the ostentation of those rich playboys easily, he was actually restrained in his bones. He didn’t have much courage, nor could he be overly flamboyant.
But even if Lu Xingping was mature for his age, confidence and pride were soaked in his bones and blood.
Qiao Nanqi was someone he envied and wanted to become, but Lu Xingping was someone he couldn’t become.
“Are you coming in or not?”
Zhao Rong hurriedly carried the few very formal gift bags in his hand and entered the door.
Lu Xingping let him sit directly on the sofa, and went to the kitchen himself first.
Smelling the faint scent of coffee beans wafting over, Zhao Rong realized Lu Xingping was making coffee when he knocked.
He was an uninvited guest, naturally didn’t want to disturb Lu Xingping. Putting the things down against the corner, he sat down quietly.
Habitually taking out his phone to kill time for a while, just as the screen lit up, the notifications of those two missed calls appeared before his eyes.
His fingertip tapping on the screen paused.
The smile in his eyes didn’t diminish, but his finger slowly lifted, finally turning off the screen and stuffing the phone back into his pocket.
It was already night. Although the lights were on in Lu Xingping’s house, it was pitch black outside the window.
A few windows seemed to be open. The autumn night wind blew in bit by bit, the cool temperature floating in the moist scent of grass and trees.
The aroma of coffee became more and more obvious, and the sound of the coffee machine running was faintly discernible.
Bored, Zhao Rong turned his head and looked around.
He hadn’t been to Lu Xingping’s house many times, and basically just drove and stopped outside, waiting for Qiao Nanqi to get in the car.
Sitting down here undisturbed for the first time in so many years, he discovered that Lu Xingping’s home seemed simple but was actually very elaborate.
Unlike Qiao Nanqi and Xia Yuantu, when the Lu family’s business was passed to Lu Xingping, it was actually already in a huge deficit. Later, being able to thrive as it was now relied entirely on Lu Xingping turning the tide. He was exposed to these things even earlier than Qiao Nanqi, could be considered mature for his age, and wasn’t that kind of pleasure-seeking rich playboy. The house wasn’t big, just a simple two-story small western-style house.
At the end of the living room was a semi-open piano room, with a pure white grand piano placed there, and several violins on the shelf in the corner. And in every corner of this piano room, there were preserved flowers of similar color schemes but completely different varieties.
Zhao Rong tried to interpret the flower language, all having reflections.
Like a wordless poem.
On the other side of the piano room was a large floor-to-ceiling window. The glass should be one-way, revealing the starry sky outside at night, like a painting pulled from the galaxy to the human world. Thinking about it, during the day it would be the bright sky connecting with grass and trees, extremely bright.
He remembered stopping by the roadside here last time.
Qiao Nanqi should have been sitting in such an exquisite and delicate piano room, playing note after note. He didn’t understand these, but he could also feel that if sitting in such a place playing the piano, it should be a pleasant thing.
If looking carefully at the music scores piled aside, maybe they were those pieces Qiao Nanqi usually played at home.
But Zhao Rong just scanned a few times, his attention attracted by a decorative small bookshelf placed against another wall.
There weren’t many books on this shelf. Glancing hastily, there were only a dozen books, not even opened. One of them leaning on the outermost, Zhao Rong recognized, was Asimov’s “The Gods Themselves”. Although this world was a world in a book, after all, it was written by the author of “The Return”. Many things not explicitly written in the book were consistent with Zhao Rong’s original world. History and books were naturally completed by the world.
Zhao Rong had read this book before transmigrating.
In his previous life, during those years of treatment in the hospital, what he did most was reading, both elegant and vulgar. But he was naturally not material for pretentiousness; what he read most were novels or such sci-fi books.
And the reason why he was deeply impressed by this one was that during university, when working part-time in the library to get close to Qiao Nanqi, he used this book to recommend a string of similar book lists to Qiao Nanqi.
He had been working part-time in the library for only a few days when he found that Qiao Nanqi’s preferences were quite consistent with his. Perhaps because life was too pressing, Young Master Qiao usually looked completely different from those big boys of the same age. Only during this moment of mental relaxation did the revealed spiritual world have a trace of innocence. Zhao Rong wanted such a spiritual world to stay a little longer, listed a book list, printed it out and clipped it in the book, pretending it was accidentally left inside by the previous reader.
What was clipped was this book “The Gods Themselves”. [1]
He stuffed the list into the book and put the book where Qiao Nanqi would sit every time he came to the library.
Sure enough, Qiao Nanqi read this book and also discovered the book list in it. For a period of time afterwards, the books he read were mostly those listed on the book list.
Because of this matter, Zhao Rong was in a good mood for a whole half year.
But these were limited to Zhao Rong’s own memories.
Qiao Nanqi never took the initiative to chat with him about these. During the time they just signed the marriage agreement and lived together, he tried to bring up such topics a few times. But every time he just opened his mouth, Qiao Nanqi would just say indifferently: “What do you know.”
“—What are you looking at?”
This sentence suddenly pulled Zhao Rong back from his memories.
Zhao Rong came back to his senses, only then realizing he had unknowingly walked to the bookshelf, looking at that unopened “The Gods Themselves”.
This book even still had the plastic wrap packaging, lying newly in the outermost and most conspicuous place.
Lu Xingping approached holding a water cup in one hand, followed Zhao Rong’s line of sight, and glanced at this book.
“You want to read it?”
“No,” Zhao Rong shook his head gently, “I’ve read it. Senior also loves reading this kind?”
Lu Xingping raised his eyebrows: “I should be asking you this question. Shouldn’t you love reading books like ‘Nightclub Manual’?”
Zhao Rong: “…”
He was usually the worst at bickering, could only choke for a moment, speechless.
But he wasn’t angry either.
Lu Xingping’s tone was mostly teasing, not really looking down on him as a “good-for-nothing” like Chen Zehe and his ilk.
Lu Xingping seemed to intentionally watch him speechless. Seeing this, he laughed a few times before continuing: “I don’t love reading it, Qiao Nanqi gave it to me.”
Zhao Rong’s hand had already touched this book, but was forcibly scared back by Lu Xingping’s words.
The book the male lead gave to the male supporting role, he, this cannon fodder, dared not touch.
Thinking about it, it was just Qiao Nanqi wanting to give the white moonlight books he liked reading.
So was this Mr. Qiao’s serious and romantic way?
Not arranging the personal assistant to send money like dismissing a lover, but carefully selecting and giving a book representing preferences with heavy meaning in a light gift.
Lu Xingping obviously didn’t appreciate this: “Baffling, might as well give me a ‘Criminal Law’, I’m more interested in that.”
Zhao Rong: “…”
“What is this book about?”
“Sci-fi story.”
“Nonsense.”
“…” Zhao Rong didn’t forget his purpose of approaching Lu Xingping. He smiled, full of patience, “It tells a story about people in one world exchanging benefits with people outside the world, seemingly cheap, but actually at a huge cost. People in this world are blinded by the immediate pleasure, a leaf blocking the vision, unable to see that the brief happiness is just drinking poison to quench thirst, and one day nothing will be left.” [1]
Lu Xingping’s casual gaze suddenly retracted. He looked straight at Zhao Rong, surprise flashing in his eyes.
He said slowly: “This doesn’t sound like an interpretation of a sci-fi novel.”
Zhao Rong sighed: “After all, my understanding ability is more suitable for ‘Nightclub Manual’.”
“Unfortunately I don’t have it here.”
Saying so, Lu Xingping handed one of the mugs in his hand to Zhao Rong.
This cup was pink and blue, with a cartoon cat pattern printed on the side. No matter how you looked at it, it didn’t look like Lu Xingping’s style.
His movement just paused for a moment, and Lu Xingping saw it: “These things were all bought by Xiaoyue, so were those flowers in the piano room.”
Zhao Rong looked around.
Lu Xingping said again: “She went out shopping with friends, not at home.”
“Oh.”
Smelling the coffee aroma floating in the air, he took the mug with a smile. Looking down, he only saw a cup of warm water with steam rising.
Zhao Rong: “?”
He subconsciously raised his eyes and looked at the cup left in Lu Xingping’s hand—inside was rich coffee.
Lu Xingping watched his series of gaze movements and said slowly: “It’s already evening.”
“Hmm?”
“I’m afraid you won’t be sleepy after drinking coffee and stay at my place too long.”
Zhao Rong: “.”
Qiao Nanqi originally wanted to go home.
He left Xia Yuantu behind and drove home alone. But as the car slowly stopped at the door, he still sat in the driver’s seat.
—Not a single light in the house was on.
Zhao Rong hadn’t come home until now.
Not only didn’t come home, but didn’t answer his phone.
Not only didn’t answer his phone, even until now…
Qiao Nanqi glanced at the phone screen—there were no missed calls on it.
By now, he had realized that Zhao Rong might be deliberately not coming home.
Because of the Chen family?
Or was it that Zhao Rong really had a fever a few days ago, and because he didn’t go home immediately, he was sulking?
The car perfume emitted a faint orange scent, but it didn’t calm people down at all.
The car had been turned off, and the lights inside were not on. Qiao Nanqi sat in the dim car in the night, the brightness of the phone screen in his hand exceptionally dazzling.
He stared at the screen for several minutes, watching messy messages from work and other people appearing constantly, finding no trace related to Zhao Rong in the chaos.
But in the past, he could always receive some messages from Zhao Rong every day, regardless of whether he paid attention or not.
And as long as he went home to stay, there would always be a light left for him at home. Entering the house with the warm yellow small light, he would mostly see Zhao Rong sitting aside playing with his phone. Hearing his movement, Zhao Rong would turn his head, looking straight at him with bright eyes, smiling and saying to him: “You’re back.”
If he came back late, Zhao Rong would have already fallen asleep, sleeping obediently on the edge of such a big bed, wrapped in the quilt, like a curled-up cat.
Sometimes when Zhao Rong went to play with that group of good-for-nothings and was met by him, when coming back, he would hold his neck with both hands, look up at him slightly, and explain to him softly. Zhao Rong always liked to wear dark clothes; pajamas and robes were mostly dark blue, making Zhao Rong appear even whiter. Generally for such things, he would throw Zhao Rong directly onto the bed.
Qiao Nanqi recalled inadvertently, suddenly realizing that all these details were vivid. Not deliberately remembered, but already engraved in his heart.
He seemed to still hope Zhao Rong was waiting for him to come back at home.
No one hopes a kitten raised at home every day suddenly gets lost.
Zhao Rong had followed him for so long, indeed a bit different from the lovers kept outside by Xia Yuantu and others.
Forget it, maybe he could indeed be a little better to Zhao Rong—if it could make Zhao Rong as docile and obedient as before, looking at him as before.
Qiao Nanqi remembered Lu Xingping’s words.
That night when Zhao Rong didn’t come home, Lu Xingping found a private doctor to see Zhao Rong.
If Zhao Rong really had a fever, he would ask how Zhao Rong’s health was, where he was now, and just go along with him once as Lu Xingping said.
He dug out Zhao Rong’s account, the remark was also “zr”.
Qiao Nan first changed the remark “zr” to Zhao Rong’s name.
Then sent a text message to Zhao Rong.
—“How is your health? When are you coming home?”