Chapter 18 Going Home “Zhao Jichuan, your boyfriend?”..

When Zhao Jichuan came out after showering, Han Rao was lying on the sofa reading the script. She was nestled there, holding a pen in her hand, muttering continuously, as if rehearsing her lines.

At a glance, he saw a densely packed page of lines, marked with different colors by her.

His gaze shifted to the left, where he saw the roasted sweet potato she had left uneaten on the coffee table.

“Han Rao.” He called her.

Han Rao was forced to pause, put down the script, and look up at him.

The two of them locked eyes for two seconds, then she immediately smiled, lazily fanning herself twice with the script, and even yawned. She said to him, “You’re done washing, so I’ll go wash up now.”

Saying that, she stood up, and just as she was about to walk past him, she suddenly felt her body lighten and was pulled back by her arm.

“Did I let you go?” he asked.

Han Rao’s relaxed and lazy demeanor instantly vanished. Her beautifully shaped brows furrowed slightly, and she lowered her eyes to look at him with a guarded expression.

Zhao Jichuan carefully studied the subtle expression on her face, raised an eyebrow, and said, “Come here, blow-dry my hair first.”

Han Rao: “…”

She was forced by his lewd threat and dared not resist; even though unwilling, she still pretended to be willing.

Zhao Jichuan wrapped in a bathrobe, the belt around his waist loosely tied, his abs faintly visible.

Han Rao turned on the hairdryer, her hand running through his damp hair. From time to time, her eyes glanced downward. She felt a bit dry in her mouth and couldn’t help but swallow.

Han Rao thought, if only she had money. If she had capital like Zhao Jichuan, she wouldn’t be such a virtuous woman.

If she were rich, she would definitely have Zhao Jichuan serve her tea and water, attend to her while she bathes and combs her hair, then pull open his bathrobe and let her freely ravage his abs.

Han Rao thought viciously.

The hairdryer emitted a “buzzing” sound, lingering by their ears, pulling her thoughts back.

She diligently tended to him without complaint, and she naturally enjoyed her hair-blowing service.

They had little interaction with each other.

Han Rao was skilled; she was patient and methodically blow-dried his hair in layers.

Zhao Jichuan remained silent, contentedly enjoying her care. When she did this, she was very gentle; her fingertips brushed his scalp, and he felt as if the piled-up snow outside the window was quietly beginning to melt.

His hair gradually dried, and Han Rao gently twirled a strand of it between her fingers. His hair was relatively soft, not so coarse, unlike his stubble that was prickly.

She suddenly recalled a saying and couldn’t help but curl her lips disdainfully: some say that those with soft hair also have soft hearts.

This statement became a paradox for Zhao Jichuan.

Both harbored hidden intentions in their hearts and remained silent, but the outward atmosphere was still relatively harmonious, until the ringing of a phone broke the original silence.

Zhao Jichuan casually picked up his phone. The two were not far apart. Han Rao glanced at it; it was a number starting with 135, with no contact name saved.

She timely switched the hairdryer, then saw Zhao Jichuan stand up and walk to the window to answer the phone. “What’s wrong?”

Han Rao vaguely heard a female voice from the other side, coquettish, gentler than hers, livelier than hers.

A more fitting word is that she is more vibrant than her.

Zhao Jichuan was also polite to that person, patiently saying that he would probably return to Beicheng tomorrow and asking if she wanted to bring anything.

Han Rao actually had quite a few thoughts flashing through her mind at that moment. Could it be that the person calling him was one of his close female confidantes? Or perhaps someone else, with a similar status to hers?

Curious? Of course.

This is human nature; no one can avoid the curiosity for gossip.

Moreover, Han Rao had long been quite suspicious that Zhao Jichuan might have other women besides her.

After all, every time the two of them went to bed, his desire was especially intense, as if he wanted to wear her out on the bed; it was clear he was a person full of energy.

But once they were apart for a month, two months, it was impossible for him to suppress these physical urges during that time, and there was no need to remain chaste for her.

If that’s the case, it means he very likely has someone else.

Thinking of this, Han Rao felt a tightness in her chest.

But she was sensible; she knew she had no right to ask about these things, nor to interfere.

She couldn’t swear to him so solemnly today, only to turn into a nagging wife the next moment—crying, making a scene, and threatening to hang herself while asking if he had other lovers.

Han Rao was very clear-headed. A man like him despised women who were unclear about their own identity, and he had clearly warned her about it.

She couldn’t give herself an advantage just because they were more compatible in bed.

Han Rao looked at his back, silently lowering her head, suppressing the chaotic thoughts. She fiddled with the hairdryer’s cord in her hands, wrapping it around and around, then loosening it strand by strand.

This action was repeated about five or six times before Zhao Jichuan finally hung up the phone.

As for what he and that woman actually said, Han Rao chose to turn a deaf ear.

She smiled at him, pointed to the hairdryer in her hand, and said, “I still need to blow-dry it a bit more.”

Zhao Jichuan sat back down on the edge of the bed and closed his eyes.

He realized that he quite liked being taken care of by her.

The sound of the hairdryer buzzed again, and Han Rao lowered her eyes, pressing her lips lightly, feeling the familiar scent of agarwood on him enveloping her once more.

As for the phone call just now, they tacitly agreed that one would not ask, and the other would not bring it up.

After drying his hair for him, Han Rao put down the hairdryer and immediately slipped into the bathroom.

She slipped off her bathrobe, letting the hot water pound fiercely against her skin before she vaguely began to regain her senses.

Han Rao sighed, tilting her head back in a futile attempt to let the splashing water wash away her embarrassment and misery.

After a few seconds, she brushed the water off her face, applying shower gel while cursing Zhao Jichuan’s ancestors for three generations in her mind.

She scolded him for being too excessive and reckless, actually making a call to his close female confidante right in front of her, without any hesitation.

Does he really only see her as a vase or a blow-up doll?

Do you really think you can completely disregard her feelings?

Can he trample on her dignity at will?

She thought, even if he had avoided her a little when he just answered the phone, that would have been better.

　　-

That day, after taking a shower, Han Rao left. After returning to the hotel, she rehearsed her lines as usual after work.

Then the next day, she went back to the crew to shoot, continuing to learn on set.

Zhao Jichuan left Hengdian at an unknown time, and she had no idea what gift he bought for that woman before he left.

Han Rao continued filming day after day until that year’s Little New Year, the twenty-third day of the lunar calendar, when she finally wrapped up the shoot.

Han Rao didn’t return to Beicheng; she took the high-speed train straight back to her hometown in Suzhou to celebrate the New Year.

Recently, her grandmother had been calling her constantly, asking when she would come back this year. Han Rao promised her that she would return to play mahjong with her as soon as she finished filming.

The high-speed rail station was gradually taking on the festive atmosphere of the New Year.

Han Rao was bundled up tightly, wearing a mask and sunglasses, pulling a 28-inch black suitcase as she followed the crowd out of the station.

She opened her phone, zoomed in on the photo Han Ting had just taken of her, then glanced at the nearby signs. After turning right and walking a bit, she spotted the slouching figure leaning against a pillar, absorbed in his phone.

Han Rao dragged her suitcase over and grabbed Han Ting’s ear. This guy had volunteered to pick her up, yet he had the audacity to hide here playing King of Glory.

Han Ting only felt the familiar touch on his ear. He jumped away, shouting in pain, playing a game on his phone with one hand while begging, “Alright, sister, I was wrong, I was wrong.”

Han Rao let go, snatched his phone, and casually tossed him the suitcase. “Carry it.”

Han Ting pouted, dutifully holding the suitcase, carefully studying her. “Wrapped up so tightly, I didn’t even recognize you. Otherwise, with the deep bond we share as siblings, I’d definitely rush to your side, eagerly take the suitcase from you, hand you a cup of hot tea, and sing loudly to welcome Comrade Han Rao home!”

Han Rao glanced at him, clicked her tongue twice, and mercilessly pointed to her head. “Han Ting, there’s something wrong with you. You really need treatment.”

“You’re the one with the problem! Your whole family has problems!”

Han Rao glanced at him, “Oh, then if you don’t want to get scolded, you better stop sharing my surname.”

The siblings bickered all the way. Han Rao had a sharp tongue; don’t be fooled by how timid she was around Zhao Jichuan—when it came to her brother, she roasted Han Ting so hard he didn’t dare to breathe.

Han Ting looked like he was frustrated with her, pointing at her forehead and saying she “only knows how to be fierce at home.”

The two chattered all the way, and before they even reached upstairs, Xu Lianqiu heard them bickering. She opened the door and waited for them to come back.

Han Ting carried his suitcase from the first floor to the fourth, panting heavily, suspecting that Han Rao had packed a bunch of broken stones inside.

Han Rao was too lazy to tell him he was bad and just told him to practice more when he had time. She then went straight into the house, changed into slippers, and curled up on the sofa.

She turned her head to look at Xu Lianqiu and Su Zhiyu, and in a soft Wu dialect said, “Mom, Grandma, what are we having for dinner?”

Su Zhiyu sat down beside her and gently touched her hair. “Grandma made you some tangyuan, try it first.”

“Grandma, what about me? What about me?” Han Ting quickly asked after drinking a big glass of water.

Su Zhiyu showed a kind smile, “Yours has it too.”

This home became lively again because Han Rao returned.

Actually, the relationships in Han Rao’s family are quite complicated, and her original family background can’t be said to be very good.

Han Ting, who refused to leave her house, was actually her half-brother from the same father.

At this very moment, in this house, apart from Han Rao, he had no blood relation with anyone else.

When Han Rao was three or four years old, her parents often argued, always over trivial matters, and the neighbors all knew that her home was far from peaceful.

At first, Su Zhiyu tried to persuade her daughter and son-in-law, but over time, realizing it was useless, she stopped speaking and let them argue.

Finally, Han Rao’s father couldn’t take it anymore and took the initiative to propose a divorce, leaving with nothing.

Despite the quarrel, Xu Lianqiu clearly did not expect the other party to directly propose a divorce with such determination. She was quite heartbroken at the time. After the divorce, she refused to accept any child support from Lao Han and did not allow him to see Han Rao.

A couple of years later, Old Han remarried and started a family, and naturally, Han Ting was born.

Han Ting was not very old. His biological mother died of cancer, and Old Han did not plan to remarry, so he raised Han Ting alone.

The turning point came when Han Rao was nine years old; she went to a local dance class to learn dancing. To ease his mind, Old Han sent four-year-old Han Ting to kindergarten early, and the two places were not far apart.

One time after school, Old Han came to pick up Han Ting and happened to run into Han Rao. Han Ting immediately gave Han Rao a big bear hug. The little four-year-old bundle hugged her waist, calling her sister, then unzipped his small backpack and stuffed all the snacks and toys inside into Han Rao’s hands.

Xu Lianqiu didn’t allow Old Han to visit Han Rao, but he often came to see her secretly while their daughter was at school.

But Han Rao had never interacted with Han Ting before; she didn’t understand why this little bundle was so affectionate the moment he saw her.

This is probably the charm of blood ties.

Han Rao lacked a father’s love, and Han Tingcheng became her legitimate reason to see her dad, so she liked to bring Han Tingcheng along to play. After school, Old Han would take the two of them to eat KFC together.

And so, over time, the relationship between the brother and sister grew exceptionally close, and the two families, once at odds like fire and water, began to ease their tensions because of this sibling pair.

Even Xu Lianqiu quite liked Han Ting. She accepted Old Han and someone else’s son, yet still remained completely estranged from him until death, which was quite a distorted and pathological situation.

Han Ting is more hardworking and enthusiastic than Han Rao, articulate, emotionally intelligent, and very likable.

Su Zhiyu was especially fond of him, treating him like her own grandson. Every time Han Rao came back, she would think about having Han Ting stay at their house for a couple of days as well.

Of course, every time Han Ting came to the house, he was Han Rao’s personal “servant,” attending to her and serving her tea and water.

At this moment, Han Rao was curled up on the sofa like a lord, lazily fiddling with the TV remote.

She felt that staying in Suzhou was truly comfortable; with her closest loved ones all around, she suddenly felt unburdened, as if she had landed and taken root.

She had never experienced this feeling in Beicheng before.

Later, this feeling was given to her by Zhao Jichuan, who was in the northern city.

“Han Ting, wash me a box of strawberries.” Han Rao dozed off.

Han Ting, sharp-tongued but soft-hearted, scolded her with a “shame on you,” then eagerly peeled off the plastic wrap from the box of strawberries, happily washed them for her, and even handed her two tissues.

Han Rao happily gave him a thumbs-up and popped a strawberry into her mouth.

She thought, if one day Han Ting found out that she would humbly blow-dry Zhao Jichuan’s hair and cook fried rice for him in the middle of the night, Han Ting would definitely laugh at her to death, pointing at her forehead with gloating and saying that what goes around comes around, that she has her day too.

The strawberry was very sweet, its juice abundant, splashing inside the mouth.

But Han Rao found it as tasteless as chewing wax. She frowned, unable to understand if there was something wrong with her mind. She had finally started living a peaceful life, so why did everything have to be associated with Zhao Jichuan?

　　-

Han Rao stayed at home, quietly waiting for the New Year.

She just felt that everything slowed down, and she became lazy, undisciplined, and went with the flow.

For example, when it came to fitness, she never missed her three weekly gym sessions while in Beicheng. Even when filming on set, she would go to the gym at night or stretch and practice on the yoga mat in her room.

But once she got home, she curled up like a snail retreating into its soft, warm shell, nestling in and too lazy to move.

Han Ting said that if she didn’t move soon, mushrooms would start growing on her body.

But she still felt so comfortable like this—basking in the sun, watching movies, piecing together building blocks..

Until the night of the twenty-seventh day of the twelfth lunar month, a phone call shattered her arrival

A hard-earned holiday and a moment of peace stolen from the busyness.

At that time, Han Rao, Han Ting, and Su Zhiyu were cracking sunflower seeds while playing Dou Dizhu.

They originally wanted to play mahjong, but were one player short. Xu Lianqiu wasn’t interested in this and didn’t want to help them find someone, and they didn’t dare to call Lao Han and the others. The three of them had no choice but to settle for playing Dou Di Zhu instead, agreeing that whoever lost would take on all the dishwashing duties for the next day.

That night, Han Rao was on a lucky streak, winning continuously. Her phone vibrated several times on the TV cabinet, but she didn’t hear it at all.

Han Ting, however, was the first to hear it and told her that the phone was ringing.

Han Rao was too lazy to get up, so she kicked Han Ting’s calf, asking him to get it for her.

Later, Han Rao deeply regretted this decision.

Han Ting reluctantly walked over, glanced at the note on the phone, and lazily asked her, “Zhao Jichuan, should I answer?”

Han Rao hadn’t heard that name in a long time. She froze on the spot, the smile on her face stiffening, as if she had suddenly fallen into an ice pit.

She really didn’t expect that, late at night, Zhao Jichuan would suddenly call her.

She never expected that this name would catch her family off guard like this.

Han Rao couldn’t say she wasn’t flustered, but she forced herself to stay calm. Turning around, she tossed the card aside and complained, “It’s the New Year, there can’t still be work to do, right?”

Saying that, she stood up, snatched the phone from Han Ting’s hand, and headed straight for the door to meet them at the stairwell.

Han Rao opened the window and was immediately hit by the cold wind. She became fully alert and then answered the phone.

“Zhao Jichuan.” The woman deliberately lowered her voice.

Zhao Jichuan was home alone at this moment. He had just finished a drinking party today and returned home, loosening his tie and lazily leaning against the sofa.

For some reason, I suddenly thought of her after a long time without seeing her, so I inexplicably gave her a call.

“Are you busy?” he asked, implying why she had taken so long to answer the phone.

Han Rao pressed her lips together, “Mm.”

“You are lying.” He smiled as he exposed her.

Han Rao felt a tightness in her chest and directly asked him if there was something he wanted to say.

Zhao Jichuan said bluntly, “The filming is wrapped up, right? Where are you? I want to see you.”

He thought that since she said she didn’t want him to disturb her while filming, now that the shoot was over, it was not too much for him to ask her to come over.

Han Rao fidgeted with the window frame, feeling troubled. The New Year was almost here, and she didn’t want to go all the way back to Beicheng just to sleep with him once.

“I’m not in Beicheng right now. After wrapping up filming, I went straight back to Suzhou.” She paused, “It’s not very convenient for me to go over there.”

“Or else, after the New Year, I’ll go back two days early. How about I come find you?” Knowing she was in the wrong and asking for a favor, her tone was especially gentle.

Zhao Jichuan frowned, intoxicated and unruly, he couldn’t help but intensify his tone, saying, “Han Rao, I am informing you, not discussing it with you.”

The motion-sensor light in the hallway went out.

In the darkness, Han Rao felt her heart sink halfway. She pressed her lips together and forced herself to say, “How about tomorrow? I’ll come to find you tomorrow.”

Zhao Jichuan said nothing and hung up the phone with a “click.”

Han Rao sighed, feeling as if her good mood had completely vanished.

Zhao Jichuan had this ability; whenever she was lost in a daydream, he always managed to bring her back to reality with a sharp blow.

Han Rao took two deep breaths, composed herself, and thought about how to explain to her family that she would be returning to Beicheng tomorrow.

She turned around and was suddenly startled, letting out an “ah” as the voice-activated light suddenly turned on.

Han Rao looked at Han Ting sitting on the stairs with his arms crossed, staring at her. She clutched her chest and said irritably, “Are you crazy? Scaring people in the middle of the night!”

Han Ting slowly stood up. He was already tall, and standing on the stairs, he was much taller than her.

He looked down on her from a height, his gaze sharp like that of a hawk.

Han Rao felt uneasy under his gaze, tapped his arm, and urged him to go home quickly.

Han Ting grabbed her flustered sister and lowered her voice to ask, “Zhao Jichuan, your boyfriend?”