Chapter 16.1 - Tease (1)
Because she was tilting her head back, her long, thick eyelashes cast a shadow under her eyes. Wen Shaoqing watched her fluttering lashes and silently curled the corners of his mouth. She must be nervous, right?
Actually, among the women Wen Shaoqing had met, Cong Rong’s appearance wasn’t the most beautiful, but she was definitely a beauty. Her look was quite striking—not the gentle and demure kind of Eastern beauty. There was a certain rare spiritedness in her brows and eyes, giving her a unique charm. It’s rare for a girl with single eyelids to have such big eyes, and her irises were light-colored, which made them look especially bright and sparkling, full of expression. When Wen Shaoqing first saw Cong Rong, she hadn’t fully blossomed yet, but he thought she looked pretty good. The next time he saw her, with her eyes lowered and brows slightly furrowed, she was truly graceful—enough to be called a woman.
Wen Shaoqing quickly snapped back to reality. “Alright, I’m going out to catch Rang Yirang and bring him back to apologize to you. Take this time to quickly take a shower, so you won’t be embarrassed when I get back.”
Before he mentioned it, Cong Rong was fine. But now that he did, she really felt awkward and cleared her throat. “Can I go home to shower?”
Wen Shaoqing nodded. “You can, but you have to be back here before I come back. You have my house key, right? When you’re done, just open the door and come in by yourself.”
Cong Rong suddenly remembered that she had only been arguing with him these days and had forgotten to return the key.
After showering, Wen Shaoqing still hadn’t returned, so Cong Rong sat on the sofa working overtime with her laptop. She opened the Wi-Fi connections list and saw a bunch of messy network names. She thought for a moment and sent Wen Shaoqing a WeChat message.
“What’s your Wi-Fi called?”
Wen Shaoqing replied quickly,
“26647664649269267449652676.”
Cong Rong thought to herself: Is this some kind of gibberish? How does he even remember this?
“What’s the password?”
“Password: 42633.”
Cong Rong stared at the chat window, utterly confused. He set such a complicated account name but chose such a simple password. If she had known, she would have tried it sooner. After several failed attempts and password errors, Cong Rong began to lose it.
“This can’t be right!”
“Oh, I forgot to tell you, include the colon at the front and the period at the end.”
Cong Rong felt like she was about to lose her mind. Did he forget on purpose? How does his brain even work to come up with a password like this?
She tossed the phone aside and returned to working overtime. After quite a while, she heard the door open.
Rang Yirang came in and seemed stunned to see Cong Rong, standing hesitantly at the entrance.
Cong Rong glanced at him, wearing warm-colored loungewear but with a cold expression. “Hit and run after a traffic accident, sentenced to three to seven years in prison.”
Wen Shaoqing was closing the door and chuckled at this.
Cong Rong pursed her lips and locked eyes with Rang Yirang for a few seconds before twirling her pen. “But you’re probably under sixteen, so I’ll forgive you.” Then she looked at Wen Shaoqing. “It’s pretty cold outside, isn’t it?”
Maybe because they had been outside for a while, the cold air clung to both the man and dog as they entered.
“Yeah, it’s gotten colder again. Dress warmer tomorrow.” Wen Shaoqing nodded, noticing her sitting on the sofa working. “Why don’t you work in the study?”
Cong Rong was a bit embarrassed. “You’re not here, so I was worried it wouldn’t be convenient. I wanted to wait for you to come back.”
Wen Shaoqing watched her for a few seconds. “There’s nothing inconvenient about it.”
Cong Rong and Zhong Zhen, the siblings, were well-mannered. Although Zhong Zhen could be mischievous, he was polite and well-behaved. Cong Rong was even more so. Maybe due to her profession, she was sharp sometimes, but always appropriate—definitely a product of good upbringing. Wen Shaoqing suddenly wanted to meet her family, to see what kind of family environment raised such siblings.
Since seeing Zhong Zhen’s hand-copied medical books, Cong Rong had been longing to visit Wen Shaoqing’s study. She had come a few times before but never had the chance. This time, she finally got in. As soon as she entered, her eyes stuck to the bookshelf.
Cong Rong pointed at the shelf. “Can I look around?”
Wen Shaoqing was organizing the documents spread out on his desk and nodded. “Go ahead.”
The bookshelf was filled with thick medical books. In one corner was a row of books that looked different from the others in binding. She pulled one out—they were all hand-copied medical books! A whole row! Probably dozens of them! On the yellowed pages, tiny neat characters were written beautifully.
Cong Rong flipped through them, and the older ones at the back had crooked writing and blurry, rough illustrations, like a child’s work. Tiny neat calligraphy is painstaking and requires patience. She wondered how a child could stick with it for so long. Later books showed more varied styles: flowing semi-cursive script, antique clerical script, wild cursive, each with exquisite brush strokes and character, serene yet lively.
Cong Rong realized these dozens of books showed gradual changes in handwriting—probably started copying with the brush when just learning calligraphy. In the later ones, the writing was elegant and free, showing deep skill.
Cong Rong looked back at Wen Shaoqing, holding up a book. “Did you copy all of these?”
Wen Shaoqing saw the writing and seemed to recall something, giving a helpless bitter smile. “Yeah, it’s a history written in blood and tears. When I was a kid, I was mischievous and got punished by my elders to copy medical books. After more than ten years, I ended up with quite a collection.”
