The thought of that report made Meng Ruozhao's heart sink again.
Unconsciously, her fingertips brushed against her flat abdomen. There was once...
If she had really been pregnant back then, why didn't she keep the baby?
And who was the baby's father?
...
She abruptly closed her eyes, forcing herself to cut off those thoughts.
She couldn't think about it. The more she thought, the more irritated she got.
She needed to do something to distract herself, like going to work.
Quickly tidying herself up, Meng Ruozhao pushed open the bedroom door and was about to go straight out.
However, the faint aroma of food wafting in the living room made her halt in her tracks.
On the dining table, a simple breakfast was neatly laid out.
A sandwich carefully wrapped in plastic wrap was placed beside a glass of milk.
Under the plate was a folded sticky note.
Meng Ruozhao walked over curiously and picked up the note.
The handwriting on it was clean, sharp, and full of strength.
Dear Sister,
I saw you were sleeping soundly, so I didn't have the heart to wake you up.
I've gone to class.
There weren't many ingredients in the fridge, so I simply made a sandwich and some warm milk for you and left them on the table.
It might not taste very good. Please don't mind.
I'll learn to make more in the future.
— Jiang Mu
Meng Ruozhao pinched the note, pressing her fingertips slightly, causing fine wrinkles to form on the edge of the paper.
That strange feeling in her heart welled up again, making her feel more at a loss than the cedar scent she smelled in the morning.
It made sense that he made breakfast for her.
But there was something odd about the words on the note.
Especially the last sentence - "I'll learn to make more in the future."
What did it mean?
Learn more housework?
Learn more skills to take care of her?
The tone... somehow carried a strange and taken - for - granted sense of "the future".
It was as if there would be many more such mornings between them.
He would make breakfast for her, leave a note, and then go to class...
But he was just a college student who was temporarily staying with her and needed her help, wasn't he?
Why did his words and actions always blur the boundaries that should exist between them?
Meng Ruozhao put down the note and her gaze fell on the sandwich.
The bread slices were toasted to perfection. A corner of the crispy lettuce leaf peeked out, sandwiching a runny - yolk egg, a slice of cheese, and a few slices of ham.
It looked very appetizing, not like what he described as possibly not tasting good.
She hesitated for a moment and reached out to touch the wall of the milk glass - it was still warm.
It seemed he hadn't left for too long.
Some corner of her heart seemed to be gently poked by this warm touch, causing an indescribable ripple.
But immediately, deeper vigilance and irritation welled up.
"You're really good at flattering people," she murmured in a low voice, as if talking to herself.
She needed to stay sober.
There were still many mysteries surrounding her, and she couldn't involve an unrelated person in her messy life at this critical moment.
Especially a pure and innocent college student like Pei Jiangmu.
If people misunderstood their relationship and spread rumors, it would make his situation even more difficult.
Moreover, she understood the so - called "honeymoon effect".
She had given Pei Jiangmu a little warmth when he was down and out, which might very well make him dependent on her.
Even develop feelings for her.
But this wasn't normal love.
As a working adult in society, she certainly couldn't pretend to be ignorant and waste the future of this promising young man.
Thinking of this,
Meng Ruozhao finally didn't touch the breakfast.
She turned around, picked up her bag and keys, and left the apartment in a hurry.
It was as if the note, the breakfast,
And that promise of "the future" were all things that would burn her.
The door closed, isolating the silence inside.
On the dining table, the abandoned sandwich and the warm milk, along with the note that mentioned "the future",
Seemed a bit lonely in the sunlight coming through the window.
Downstairs of the apartment building, in an unassuming black sedan parked on the street corner.
The bodyguard sitting in the driver's seat watched Meng Ruozhao's hasty back and sent a message.
"Assistant Qi, Miss Meng has left home."
On the top floor of Pei's Group, beyond the huge arc - shaped floor - to - ceiling windows was the bustling city skyline.
The spacious conference table was filled with high - level executives, and the atmosphere was solemn.
Pei Jiangmu sat in the main seat, wearing a well - tailored black suit that made his face look cold and his aura intimidating.
He held a pen between his fingertips and absent - mindedly tapped on the report in front of him while listening to his subordinate's report.
His eyes seemed focused, but deep down, they were like a silent deep sea.
Qi Yu stood behind him on the side. After receiving the message, he quickly replied.
"Got it. Follow Miss Meng closely and don't let her notice. Report any problems immediately."
After turning off his phone, his gaze fell on Pei Jiangmu's injured hand casually resting on the armrest.
The rough gauze still wrapped it.
Although the blood seemed to have dried.
But the dark red color seeping from the edge and the unnatural swelling faintly visible under the gauze all indicated that the injury hadn't improved. Instead, it might be inflamed.
Because last night.
After the examination, Pei Jiangmu carefully carried the still - sleeping Meng Ruozhao back to the back seat of the Bentley.
His movements were as gentle as if he were handling fragile glass.
The moment the car door closed, in the dim light inside the car, Qi Yu's pupils suddenly shrank -
The knuckles of Pei Jiangmu's gauze - wrapped hand were stained with another shocking patch of bright red, even worse than when they came.
"Boss! Your hand!" Qi Yu immediately spoke up, his voice filled with urgency.
He knew all too well how the wound had split open again and again.
That night, Pei Jiangmu carried Meng Ruozhao from the examination room to the lounge and then back to the car.
No matter how awkward the position was, he stubbornly refused to let anyone else do it or put her down.
Under the repeated weight - bearing and friction, how could the wound not get worse?
"Shut up," Pei Jiangmu's voice was as cold as ice, with an undeniable warning.
He didn't even look down at his bleeding hand. His gaze was still fixed on the person sleeping in the back seat.
It was as if that bit of pain and bleeding didn't matter at all.
"But the wound must be treated! Doctors like Karen are still here," Qi Yu tried to persuade.
There were the top - notch doctors and medicines in Jingyuan.
"No need," Pei Jiangmu interrupted him. There was even a strange, almost morbid sense of satisfaction in his tone.
He used his uninjured hand to gently brush the edge of the blood - soaked gauze, and a bit of scarlet stained his fingertips.
He lowered his eyes and looked at the blood, and the corner of his mouth actually curled up in a very faint and cold arc.
"She wrapped it for me with her own hands," he said softly, but it was like a heavy hammer hitting Qi Yu's heart.
Qi Yu instantly understood.
This wound, this pain, this blood... in Pei Jiangmu's distorted perception, had all become the "mark" left by Meng Ruozhao on him.
A deformed bond with a taste of blood.
He refused to treat it or change the dressing.
It was as if by doing so, he could keep the warmth and concern of her fingertips.
Even if this concern was something he had obtained through all sorts of means.
He would take this pain as a medal and engrave it on his body.