Chapter 83: First Love

Antong pressed her lips together, saying nothing. It wasn’t that she was playing hard to get; her heart was simply pounding too fast for her to form a sentence. Dr. Rong hadn’t said he liked her, yet his every word and gesture brimmed with affection. And the phrase “helpless to restrain my feelings” was, in truth, far more moving than a simple declaration of love.

Feigning deep thought, Antong turned her face away. After a few seconds of quiet, she spoke softly, “Could you give me some time… to think about it?”

“Of course,” Rong Shen replied, raising his hand to gently caress the top of her head. “It’s late. Go back to sleep.”

Antong stole a glance at him. Seeing not the slightest hint of displeasure or annoyance, she nodded and stood up. The man didn’t try to detain her; his dark, fathomless eyes gazed into the night, lost in thought.

Three seconds—or perhaps less.

“I’ve made up my mind,” Antong announced, standing at the kitchen doorway and turning back. “I’m willing.”

No sooner had the words left her lips than she spun around and dashed off, making her escape.

In the tranquil villa, the sound of Antong’s hurried, disordered footsteps running up the stairs was clearly audible. The man gazed at the corridor beyond the kitchen, a smile playing at his lips. Lowering his eyes, he sighed and shook his head.

After twenty-seven years, he was now like an awkward youth, troubled by the fear of rejection. Even though he’d long since sensed her feelings, and knew Antong was not indifferent to him, he still dared not jump to conclusions. Matters of the heart truly are fraught with uncertainty.

…

Upstairs, Antong returned to her bedroom, pressing her hands to her chest as she struggled to calm her breathing. Rong Shen’s sudden honesty and confession had unleashed a torrent of emotion within her, muddled and chaotic, yet she relished the fluttering, exhilarating sensation.

Lying face-down on the bed, her hands covering her burning cheeks, Antong soon burst into soft laughter.

How wonderful it was that the one she liked happened to like her in return.

By some mysterious fate, she had met him, come to know him, learned to trust him, and now, experienced the first stirrings of love. In truth, every step had left traces, but because of their respective positions and the distance between them, she had repeatedly stifled her budding feelings.

Now, Antong felt calm—at peace with herself. The taste of first love was sweet.

But as someone with psychological issues and a pessimistic disposition, her joy lasted barely five minutes before a shadow crept into her mind. A voice seemed to remind her: what did Dr. Rong mean by “only being husband and wife”?

At first, getting married had been a matter of convenience. But now that they had feelings for each other, did he intend to skip the romance and become husband and wife until old age? How was that any different from simply making a pact to live together?

Antong felt as though she’d been shortchanged—she hadn’t even really experienced the sweetness of first love before becoming someone’s wife.

…

A few minutes later, steady footsteps echoed in the hallway on the second floor. Antong listened intently, nerves jangling, and took another sip of her cocktail for courage.

Soon there was a knock at the door. She scrambled off the bed and called out softly for the visitor to come in.

As the door opened, Antong had already slipped on her slippers and stood in the middle of the room. She hadn’t changed out of her clothes, and apart from her slightly messy hair, there was nothing amiss—except for the takeaway cocktail she was holding, which immediately caught the man’s attention.

Standing at the doorway, Rong Shen gripped the handle, arching a thick brow as he narrowed his eyes. “Still drinking?”

Antong hurriedly hid the cup behind her leg. “I was… thirsty.”

Even she didn’t believe that excuse, let alone the sharp and experienced Rong Shen.

He glanced at the water dispenser by the table, a half-smile on his lips as he stepped into the room.

Antong hadn’t switched on the overhead light, only the reading lamp by the bed. As his tall figure approached, the space seemed to shrink around her.

It was then that she noticed the teacup in Rong Shen’s hand.

He came to stand before her, bent down and took the takeaway cup from her, giving it a light shake. His tone was laced with amusement. “So you rushed back here just to sneak a cocktail?”

Not only that—the cup was nearly empty; she’d finished it.

Antong’s gaze flickered. She pointed at the table. “I wasn’t sneaking a drink. There’s still one more.”

Rong Shen tapped her forehead with a knuckle, teasing, “Did you save it especially for me?”

Not wanting to lie, Antong simply closed her mouth and said nothing. Of course she hadn’t; she’d planned to drink that one tomorrow.

Seeing through her little scheme, the man let the matter drop and handed her the teacup. “It’s not good to drink too much your first time. Here—honey milk. Drink it and get some rest.”

“Oh…” Antong took the cup in both hands, her eyes darting nervously. Her expression was no longer as serene and pure as before; now, there was a visible shyness and bashfulness.

By the soft light, Rong Shen studied her expression, then gently stroked her hair. “Don’t overthink things tonight. Drink your milk and get some sleep. I’m not going out tomorrow. Whatever you want to say or ask, we’ll talk then, alright?”

“Won’t staying home delay your work?” Antong thought he was staying just for her.

With a leisurely tone, the man replied, “Who works on weekends?”

Antong was speechless.

She gave an awkward laugh and said she understood.

As Rong Shen left, he paused at the door to look back at Antong. There was something he wanted to say, yet in the end, he held it back. It would have sounded too intimate, too deliberate.

The words were: You’re more important than work.

As midnight arrived, Antong sipped her honey milk, eyes half-closed in contentment. The milk was sweet—a taste she’d never experienced before.

Later, after washing up, Antong climbed into bed, her thoughts drifting dreamily over everything that had happened that night. With her heart still fluttering, she soon fell sound asleep.

She didn’t notice that the last cocktail she’d left on the table had already been taken away by the man.

…

The next morning, the wind was gentle, the clouds light, and the sun bright. Zhan City’s winters were usually rainy, but today was a rare, beautiful day.

Antong woke up later than usual—after nine o’clock. When she went downstairs and didn’t see Rong Shen right away, her nerves eased a little.

But—

Standing in the middle of the room, Antong looked around. “An’an?”

It seemed she hadn’t seen the little one since coming home last night, nor had she heard it scratching at her door this morning. Where had it gone?

She searched the villa, then went outside to call for it, but all in vain.

Growing worried that the little fellow might have gotten lost in the garden, she quickly took out her phone and dialed Lingqi.

“Qiqi, after I left yesterday, did you see An’an?”

Lingqi sounded half-asleep, mumbling, “Saw him—he’s in my bed.”

Antong was speechless.

“If there’s nothing else, Madam, I’m going back to sleep,” Lingqi yawned. “This little scamp woke me at four in the morning—does he have a bladder problem? Can’t even sleep through the night…”

Before she could finish, Lingqi’s breathing grew slow and even—she’d already drifted off.

Antong stared at her phone, then hung up.

How odd. How had An’an ended up sleeping in Lingqi’s room?