Chapter 76: A Difficult Problem

Rong Shen naturally had no intention of exposing her pretense; his gaze, deep as the sea, rested on An Tong, but he merely smiled without a word. During the ensuing meal, An Tong faithfully adhered to the tradition of silent dining, eating quietly without uttering a sound. After all, the more one says, the more mistakes one might make; better to remain silent.

When breakfast ended, An Tong surreptitiously checked her phone for the time. It was a quarter past eight—surely Dr. Rong would be leaving for work soon. She breathed a barely perceptible sigh of relief, simply waiting for his departure so she could compose herself again.

In truth, some things had gradually become clear over the past few days. Even if such uncertain feelings were unfamiliar and hard to voice, as long as one wasn’t deliberately feigning ignorance, it wasn’t difficult to realize what they meant. Moreover, An Tong’s perception was perfectly intact; coupled with the influence of her emotional detachment disorder, it made her even more sensitive and thoughtful than most.

Before long, a sound came from across the table. Snapping back to herself, An Tong looked at the man’s tall, upright figure and blurted out, “Dr. Rong, take care.”

Rong Shen stood with one hand in his pocket, his every gesture exuding the understated elegance of a mature man. “Weren’t you interested in picking out some teaware?” he asked.

An Tong froze. Wasn’t it nearly nine? Was he not going to work?

Noticing her hesitation, Rong Shen’s thin lips curved in a faint smile. “Changed your mind?”

“I still want to,” An Tong replied, standing up and adding, “Will this make you late for work?”

Rong Shen assured her it would not.

…

On the second floor, in the storeroom.

The two entered one after the other; the curtains were still drawn, and the visibility was poor. Cautiously, An Tong stayed close to his side, relying on the faint light from the doorway to make out the general shapes. Though called a storeroom, everything was neatly arranged, not the least bit cluttered.

In the dimness, An Tong accidentally kicked something—it felt like a vase or a piece of porcelain, and the crisp clink of the collision rang out. She dared not move further until Rong Shen switched on the light, finally revealing the room’s true appearance.

To call this a storeroom was perhaps a misnomer; “miniature gallery” was far more apt. Several rows of display shelves stood in careful order at the center of the room, adorned with porcelain, jade, antiques, calligraphy, and countless rosewood curios, dazzling the eye.

Suddenly, An Tong recalled that when she first met Dr. Rong, he always seemed to be turning a piece of rosewood in his hand. Perhaps… he was an enthusiast after all.

At that moment, Rong Shen led her to the last row of shelves and gestured toward the display. “Go ahead and pick one.”

An Tong hesitated, then asked tentatively, “Is there anything… a bit more ordinary?”

“None of these to your liking?” he replied.

“It’s not that,” she admitted, gazing at Rong Shen. “They’re all so valuable. If I were to break one…”—she couldn’t possibly afford to pay for it.

She was, after all, just a novice in the art of tea. To have her choose teaware among priceless Ru ware and celadon pieces was far too daunting.

Before she could finish, Rong Shen picked up a moon-white Ru ware teacup, looked at her with a low chuckle and said, “Teaware gets chipped and broken all the time. If it breaks, we’ll simply replace it. There’s no need to worry too much.”

An Tong drew a deep breath and tapped the teacup in his hand with her fingertip. “Then I’ll take this one.”

This set of moon-white Ru ware had caught her eye from the start. She knew quality when she saw it, but more importantly, it was simply beautiful—the rim adorned with cicada-wing patterns, its body austere and elegant, like the luminous glow of a full moon.

And “moon-white” was the perfect color to describe a gentleman.

…

An hour later, Rong Shen had imparted some basic knowledge of tea ceremony to An Tong before finally leaving for the company.

An Tong sat in the living room, staring blankly at the precious teaware and tea leaves on the table. She was afraid she might have developed “improper thoughts” toward Dr. Rong.

The idea flashed clearly through her mind, making her bite her lip, her heart pounding erratically.

The signs had always been there; she just couldn’t untangle whether her feelings for Dr. Rong were instinctive dependence or something akin to affection.

Lacking any experience in matters of the heart, this was a problem An Tong urgently needed to resolve.

She fiddled with her phone, wanting to find someone to confide in. The first person who came to mind was Su Ji.

But…

She instantly dismissed the alarming notion. Setting aside Aunt Ji’s illness, even if she did ask Su Ji’s advice, there was no guarantee of an answer; more likely, she’d be subjected to a barrage of interrogation and scolding.

An Tong scrolled through her contacts, but found no one suitable.

Just then, Ling Qi appeared as if out of nowhere, skipping into her field of view.

“Madam, what are you up to?” she chirped.

An Tong’s eyes flickered with a faint light. “Nothing much. Are you free?”

“I am!” Ling Qi hummed a tune as she approached, her gaze skimming over the teaware on the table without recognition. “Need something from me?”

An Tong patted the seat beside her. “Want to play a game?”

Ling Qi paused, then nodded eagerly. “Of course! With the queen of the wild on your side, only a fool would refuse.”

“Then be my support.”

“No problem.”

Together, An Tong and Ling Qi logged into the game. As the ranked match began, Ling Qi, proud of her skills as the best support, devoted herself to running alongside An Tong across the map.

Three minutes in, An Tong claimed her first kill, then gradually began her line of questioning: “Qi Qi, who’s your favorite hero?”

Most people find it hard to focus on conversation while gaming. Ling Qi was no exception. As she cast her skills, she replied offhandedly, “Any hero that can win—I like them all.”

With one eye on the game and the other on Ling Qi, An Tong continued, “What about in real life? Do you have someone you like?”

“Sure,” Ling Qi answered carelessly. “Anyone who treats me well, I like.”

“And what does it mean to treat you well?”

Ling Qi was fully absorbed in the game and took about ten seconds before replying, “If I feel they treat me well, then they do.”

An Tong was silent.

That kind of answer was barely even perfunctory.

Still, desperate for a breakthrough, An Tong didn’t mind grasping at straws.

After another triple kill, she glanced at Ling Qi’s focused profile and asked a soul-searching question, “But what if the person is an elder or a teacher? Would you still like them?”

Ling Qi casually unleashed an ultimate and replied, “Liking an elder—that would be incest, wouldn’t it?”

An Tong fell silent.

“Hey, hey—” Ling Qi exclaimed as An Tong’s hero charged into the enemy turret with an ultimate and stood motionless under fire until she died. “Madam, why aren’t you moving? Did you lag out?”

An Tong answered coolly, “Yes, incest.”

“What?” Ling Qi stared, thinking she’d misheard.

An Tong repeated, “I mean, I lagged.”

Ling Qi cursed at the bad connection, then continued roaming the map.

In the end, they lost the match.

Ling Qi scratched her head in confusion, feeling like the Madam had been chatting with her during the game. But what exactly they talked about, she couldn’t quite recall.

(End of chapter)