Chapter 35 Jealousy “I never get entangled with exes, nor do I go back…”

The man’s suggestion seemed so natural. She wanted to move because her home was too small, and he happened to have a large house. He could arrange everything perfectly for her, whether it was a dance studio or a walk-in closet. Moreover, there was another benefit to moving in together: it would be more convenient for them to see each other; at least he wouldn’t have to rush back and forth.

Zhao Jichuan thought this was an excellent suggestion. He didn’t even consider whether he had any ulterior motives, only wanting to help her solve the problem.

But Han Rao flatly refused. She leaned over and placed the cup on the coffee table, saying, “Forget it.”

Han Rao had a strong dependence on her home, even a strong sense of possessiveness. In the past, she would never bring anyone home. The fact that she allowed Zhao Jichuan to come to her home anytime, and even gave him a key, was already her biggest compromise and concession.

If the two of them really moved in together, it would mean she would no longer have any private space, and she and he would be completely intertwined.

Moreover, Han Rao’s thoughts are relatively pessimistic and extreme, or rather, more sensible and well-considered.

Upon hearing Zhao Jichuan ask her to move in, her first reaction was actually, what if they quarrel in the future, to the point of being irreconcilable, and she has no place to live? What if they quarrel like last time, turning everything upside down, and she gets kicked out? Where would she go then?

She wouldn’t allow herself to have no way out, to be so foolish as to be completely dependent on him.

Zhao Jichuan didn’t think there was anything wrong with the suggestion. He squatted down and pulled out another tissue to wipe away the nearly dry tear stains on her face. “Why give up? If we move in together, you won’t have to keep going back and forth to my place, and I won’t have to keep coming here. Isn’t that good?”

“Raorao, every time we meet, we have to cross half of Beicheng. Don’t you think it’s far and tiring?”

Han Rao pursed her lips, admitting that what he said was true.

But she still didn’t want to move in with him.

“If you think it’s too far, then I can always rent my next place closer to you, right?”

“Also, why did you ask me to move in with you? You didn’t even prepare a pair of slippers for me. Are you expecting me to be your housekeeper, cooking, mopping, and washing dishes for you?” she said playfully, recalling how she had to bring everything herself the first time she went to his place, and took everything with her when she left.

“Zhao Jichuan, I’m too lazy to do things like washing dishes and cooking. I don’t want to be some kind of virtuous wife and loving mother, and I don’t want praise or compliments from others. You know the nature of my job; I’m destined to fly around and be away from home for long periods. Even if I get married in the future, I won’t compromise an inch for the sake of a family.”

In her eyes, work came first, and everything else had to take a backseat.

It was probably because she was so emotional today that once she started talking about it, she poured out everything on her mind, one after another. She didn’t even realize that she had strayed too far, even talking about marriage.

Zhao Jichuan looked at her small face, his eyes so firm that she instantly felt like there was nowhere to hide. He said, “Even if we live together, I won’t make you cook, mop, or wash dishes.”

The past is the past, and the present is the present. People’s perspectives always differ in different periods. He believed that things are not what they used to be, and the two cannot be compared.

Han Rao naturally believed the sincerity in his words now, because ever since she opened up last time, she always pestered him to cook for her, and he was willing to pamper her.

But she still said firmly, “Let’s just forget it.”

The man was a little annoyed and said casually, “Then you can see which house you like, and I’ll give it to you.”

Han Rao pursed her lips, took a deep breath, and smelled the sandalwood on him. “Let’s talk about this later. My lease isn’t up for a while, and it’s pretty good living here now.”

She got up from the sofa, stepped barefoot on the carpet, and picked up the letter from a fan. “It’s getting late, let’s hurry up. Didn’t you say Fan Zhen was treating us to roast whole lamb tonight? I’m really looking forward to it. Also, I don’t have work tomorrow, so I want to have a few drinks. Don’t worry about me.”

Zhao Jichuan lightly hummed in acknowledgment, watching her get up and return to the bedroom. She took out an exquisite box from a drawer, placed the letter inside, closed the box, and put it back in its original place.

He was far away, vaguely seeing that her box contained many things, probably all letters.

He guessed that these letters were probably written to her by fans over the years.

He suddenly felt that she was actually a person more genuine than anything else, like an unpolished jade just pulled from the water, crystal clear, pure, and smooth.

Han Rao put her things away, then picked up her powder compact and lightly touched up her makeup, before going downstairs with Zhao Jichuan.

Summer has arrived, and a wave of dry heat washes over you the moment you step outside.

Han Rao didn’t particularly like summer. The weather was as hot as a steamer, and the wind always felt sticky on her skin, making her feel irritable with her hair down. She pulled a large hair tie from her bag and handed the bag to Zhao Jichuan.

The man took the bag and watched her tie a low bun in four or five seconds.

Her bun was casually tied, messy but beautiful. Because she had cut her hair short for her last role and it hadn’t grown much since, the bun was a bit loose, with strands of hair falling down and clinging to her fair neck.

Zhao Jichuan’s gaze shifted downwards. She was wearing a light blue, loose-fitting shirt, and the top two buttons were undone.

And the necklace he gave her hung on her swan-like neck, subtly resting on her cleavage.

Jewelry nourishes people, and people also nourish jewelry.

Zhao Jichuan felt that giving her this necklace was a wise move.

He suddenly used his free hand to cup the back of her neck, moving upwards to tuck the stray strand of hair behind her ear, and then, unable to resist, he leaned in and kissed her.

Their warm lips pressed together, and Han Rao clutched his

the corner of her clothes, the man suddenly chuckled, his hot breath fanning her face.

It was a fleeting kiss, and he immediately released her.

The streetlights in the neighborhood lit up. Han Rao looked up at him, and the man was again in that calm and composed manner, so indifferent that he couldn’t stir up a single ripple.

Han Rao even felt that the kiss just now was an illusion. She touched her lips again, still vaguely feeling that her makeup had smudged.

Zhao Jichuan returned the bag to her and pulled her hand to get into the car.

Han Rao sat in the passenger seat, took out her lipstick again to touch up her makeup, and while looking in the mirror, she said to him, “Don’t just kiss me casually anymore. My lipstick always smudges.”

Zhao Jichuan frowned as he looked at her. He told her to ask herself if he had been too indulgent with her lately, to the point where she wouldn’t even let him kiss her.

Han Rao pursed her lips and smiled, casually fabricating a story: “I’m doing this for your own good. Do you know that in ancient times there was an assassination method where female assassins would specifically apply poison to their lips, then go and seduce their targets? As soon as the target, captivated by her beauty, kissed the female assassin’s lips, he would die.”

Zhao Jichuan asked her, “Wouldn’t that female assassin have to die first?”

Han Rao: “Then if she applies poison to her lips every day, over time she’ll definitely develop resistance.”

“Oh.”

Han Rao glanced at him, always feeling that his questions, following her lead, were like humoring a child.

It’s so boring.

Han Rao then ignored him, fumbled for her phone, took it out to play, and opened a short video platform. Before she could scroll through a few videos, she saw a live clip of Xie Yaochen crying bitterly.

Han Rao instinctively wanted to tap “Not Interested” and scroll away, but then she heard the man in the live stream say that his mother had been diagnosed with cancer, late-stage lung cancer, and the doctor had advised her to go home and rest, saying she didn’t have much time left.

Han Rao didn’t know if Xie Yaochen’s words in the live broadcast room had an element of hype, but seeing his tearful appearance still made her heart tremble. She knew he was a filial person and wouldn’t joke about his mother’s life and health.

This is probably true.

Han Rao sighed, suddenly feeling emotional about the impermanence of life and the unpredictability of the world.

She actually couldn’t quite remember what Xie Yaochen’s mother looked like, as it had been many years since they last met.

But in her memory, Xie Yaochen’s mother was an extremely gentle person, even gentler than Xu Lianqiu. Xu Lianqiu’s gentleness was cultivated from years of immersion in books, while Xie Yaochen’s mother’s gentleness was ingrained in her very being.

The first time Han Rao saw her, she felt that she carried an ancient, rustic aura that didn’t belong to this society—simple and sincere, making one want to get close to her.

She had heard Xie Yaochen say that his mother wasn’t highly educated, having only just graduated from junior high school in that era. But because her son loved music, she went against all opposition to buy him a piano, and was even willing to sit down and learn piano from scratch with her son.

Han Rao had always felt that she was a good mother.

She was also very understanding and treated Han Rao exceptionally well, doting on her like her own daughter. She always liked to call her “A-Ying,” “A-Ying,” and every time she returned to school, she would ask Xie Yaochen to bring her specialties from home.

At that time, Han Rao loved her shredded pickled vegetables the most; they were simply a perfect match with rice porridge. The shredded pickled vegetables didn’t spoil easily, and a small jar could last for over a month.

In the video, the man cried like a child, saying things like “Your desire to care for your parents cannot be fulfilled when they are gone,” and that he worked tirelessly to earn money, hoping to buy a big house for his mother.

Han Rao felt a lump in her throat. She no longer had any feelings for Xie Yaochen, but she truly regretted that his mother, such a good person, had gotten lung cancer.

What she remembered most vividly was that after the incident with Lin Siliang, she was enveloped in a layer of fear, her mental state was particularly poor, and she didn’t dare to tell her parents or grandmother. At that time, Xie Yaochen’s mother acted as a mother figure, holding her in her arms and coaxing her, “Good child, don’t cry. It’s all over. Just forget about it.”

Perhaps she had been too focused for too long, Zhao Jichuan noticed her unusual state, grabbed her hand, and asked what she was looking at.

Han Rao turned off the screen, took off her headphones, closed her eyes to compose herself for two seconds, and sighed, confessing, “Xie Yaochen’s mother has late-stage cancer. She’s a really good person, so it feels a bit sad.”

Zhao Jichuan remembered the name, “Your ex-boyfriend?”

“Mm.” She was open and honest, feeling there was nothing she couldn’t say. Anyway, he knew all these things, and she didn’t care.

The man looked at her somewhat dejected expression, not understanding why Xie Yaochen, such a scumbag, was so worthy of her remembrance. It was natural for him to be upset about his mother’s illness as her son, but what was Han Rao, his ex-girlfriend, meddling for?

“You’ve met his parents?”

Zhao Jichuan suddenly asked, his tone somewhat cold. He really hadn’t expected Han Rao and her ex to be so deeply entangled.

The man’s hand gently tapped the steering wheel twice, feeling a pang of jealousy because her youthful years, from eighteen to nineteen, had once been filled by someone else.

How could he not know Han Rao’s attitude? Han Rao deliberately concealed everything about herself from his family, and was even unwilling to mention her family situation to him.

But she had once treated a cheating scumbag with unreserved sincerity, even sympathizing with his impending loss of his mother.

Han Rao raised her eyes to look at him, and chuckled softly, “Just young and ignorant.”

At that time, she must have been eighteen. With no classes on the weekend, she and Xie Yaochen skipped two Friday classes and bought train tickets on Thursday night to go out and play, heading to Changsha, his hometown. As a result, while eating breakfast at a small restaurant, they happened to run into Xie Yaochen’s mother, and just like that, she met his parents in a muddled way.

If Han Rao had a chance to choose again, she wouldn’t regret dating Xie Yaochen, but she definitely wouldn’t have met his parents so early.

This led Xie Yaochen to mistakenly believe that she was destined to marry him in this life, and he gradually stopped cherishing her.

Han Rao just kept chatting with Zhao Jichuan, then she suddenly turned her head to look at him, raising an eyebrow and asking, “You’re always trying to get information out of me. What about you? Tell me about your ex-girlfriend.”

She said that on purpose, trying to hide her sadness for Xie Yaochen’s mother.

But how could Zhao Jichuan not see it?

He casually said, “I forgot.”

“I never get entangled with exes, and I never go back to old flames.”

Han Rao pursed her lips. Wasn’t he being sarcastic with his words?

She couldn’t be bothered to argue with him, as her sadness was genuine, and she had no energy to go back and forth. As for his ex-girlfriend, if he didn’t want to talk about her, then so be it. She wasn’t in the mood to listen, nor was she interested.

“I also never get entangled with exes, nor do I go back to old flames.”

She agreed with him, her tone a little smug.

Han Rao lowered her head to straighten the buttons on her shirt. When she looked up again, she saw that the car had already stopped under a streetlamp by the roadside, with its hazard lights flashing.

Han Rao turned her head, about to ask him why he stopped the car, when the man suddenly unbuckled his seatbelt and leaned close to her. His eyes were darker than the night.

He raised his hand to cup her face, commanding, “Han Rao, come here and kiss me.”

Han Rao’s heart trembled, her long eyelashes fluttering slightly, still not understanding.

What sudden madness had seized him now?

The man probably found her reaction slow; in the blink of an eye, he leaned in and pressed her against the back of the chair, biting her lips.

Han Rao reached out to push him away, but he held her hands, pressing them against his chest.

He gently sucked and bit her lips, prying them open, and their tongues met, their saliva mingling.

She had no idea, and he was utterly unwilling to admit, that he was simply jealous, jealous to the point of madness.