Chapter 27: Qin Yichi, Your Ears Are So Red

Qiao Zhen didn’t sense anything amiss. She repeated herself by his ear in a sweet, clear voice, “Your back is so hard.”

It was uncomfortable to be held like this, not pleasant at all.

Qin Yichi carried her forward, his tone full of unspoken meaning, drawing out his words lazily, “Oh~”

He hadn’t said anything, yet somehow, he’d said everything.

Qiao Zhen’s breath caught for two seconds as she suddenly realized what she’d just blurted out. Her cheeks flushed instantly, blooming with a rosy hue like the glow of a burning sunset.

In her heart, a tiny, struggling version of herself wailed:

This isn’t the kindergarten bus—let her down!

Of all her memories from her past life, the ones of deep, intimate conversations with Qin Yichi after they married were the clearest, the most vivid.

She knew Qin Xiaochi best of all. And he wasn’t cute. Not in the slightest!

She lowered her head, quietly tightening her arms around him, her whole being bristling with embarrassment.

Qin Yichi, feeling choked, his Adam’s apple bobbing, couldn’t help but remind her, “Qiao Zhen, are you trying to strangle me?”

Only then did the girl behind him come to her senses, slowly loosening her grip, her voice soft and languid, “Oh, sorry…”

Her gentle warmth pressed against his back, their posture more intimate than ever before.

She nuzzled closer, crowding him.

Her slender, fair wrists encircled his neck, her breath falling softly against his ear and the hollow of his neck, carrying a faint, refreshing fragrance.

Her presence was tranquil and gentle, not overpowering, but light—like the scent of jasmine—drifting in delicate wisps all around.

It brought to mind the phrase “soft jade in warm embrace.”

From where she couldn’t see, Qin Yichi’s dark eyes smoldered with a heated desire, a flame igniting low in his abdomen.

His lips pressed in a tight line; he knew such base thoughts were wrong, so he tried desperately to ignore the sensations behind him.

Yet the more one tries to ignore something,

the more acutely one feels it.

So soft.

Qin Yichi’s steps quickened, veins throbbing at his temples, mind clouded with nothing but fluffy, yielding clouds.

If he’d known it would come to this, he should have just let Qiao Zhen strangle the beast out of him earlier…

The orange-red sunset stretched across the sky, vibrant and radiant, gently elongating their shadows on the ground.

Qiao Zhen, lying on his back, happened to glance at the boy’s flushed, thin ear.

Huh?

Like she’d discovered something fascinating, her eyes brightened and, unable to resist, she reached out and lightly touched the base of Qin Yichi’s ear with her finger.

The instant her fingertip brushed his skin, it was like a jolt of electricity shot through him, nearly making him leap up.

He held back, warning in a low voice, “What are you doing? Don’t touch!”

Though he tried to sound stern, there wasn’t a hint of real anger.

Qiao Zhen nodded obediently, gazing at the back of his head, her voice soft but earnest, “Qin Yichi, your ears are so red.”

And after she’d touched them, they’d grown visibly redder!

Just like the fiery clouds at dusk.

Qin Yichi showed no reaction, his expression unchanged as he lied with perfect composure, “Born this way.”

Qiao Zhen paused, sounding a little stifled, “Oh.”

With ears blazing, Qin Yichi sped her to the school gates, gently set her down, and supported her.

But the balloon tied to Qiao Zhen’s wrist was simply too conspicuous—shiny and eye-catching—so much so that many students along the way turned to look, mistaking them for a couple brazenly displaying their affection.

Qiao Zhen hung her head low, silently chanting to herself: No one can see me, no one can see me...

Finally, they reached the dormitory at Hundred Flowers Garden. The white streetlights flickered on as dusk deepened.

Once the crowd had thinned, Qiao Zhen let out a sigh of relief, looked up with gratitude, and waved her tiny hand, “Bye-bye~”

Qin Yichi reached out, and seeing she didn’t dodge, he relaxed and gently ruffled her bun, as if petting a little bunny, his tone casual: “Go on.”

Qiao Zhen nodded, climbed the six flights of stairs holding onto the railing, and only then belatedly realized—she’d just been teased... No, her bun had been teased.

...He was so bad.

After a long day, returning to the dorm felt utterly exhausting. She’d barely sat down when her phone rang unexpectedly.

An unfamiliar number.

She answered, surprised by the silence on the other end, and politely inquired, “Hello, who is this...?”

A slightly anxious voice responded, “Qiao Zhen, we’re in Emperor’s Club, private suite 1888—”

Recognizing Yu Wenjian’s voice, Qiao Zhen hung up before he could finish and promptly blocked the number.

She lowered her head, showing no reaction, quietly put away the balloon, plugged in her phone to charge, and went to shower, leaving all troubles behind.

She and those people no longer had anything to do with each other. From now on, they would only ever be parallel lines, never to intersect again…

On the other end, the top-tier suite was plunged into silence.

Yu Wenjian glanced at Ji Xian, whose face was frosty, and tried to lighten the mood. “If Qiao Zhen won’t come, that’s her loss. Does she think we can’t do without her?”

Someone else chimed in, “Exactly. Does she really think she’s that important? I heard there’s a new batch of fairies here—should we have them brought in?”

Drinking alone is so boring!

Everyone looked to Ji Xian, who remained silent.

Which meant he didn’t object!

The young men lounged lazily on the sofas, pressing the service bell.

Soon, a line of pretty girls filed in, with the general manager bowing respectfully.

“Master Ji, is there anything else you require?”

The girls looked up, cheeks flushed—there were glamorous and alluring types, sweet and adorable, shy and innocent...

Yu Wenjian immediately set his sights on the girl at the end, dressed in a pale pink pleated skirt and sporting a bun.

A silver name tag on her chest read: [No. 1, Qingqing]

Qingqing’s smile revealed two little dimples, as delicate as peach blossoms, pure and charming.

She looked a lot like Qiao Zhen, but somehow, she lacked that special touch.

The general manager watched Ji Xian’s every move intently, and seeing his gaze linger on the girl, he ventured, “Qingqing, pour Master Ji a drink.”

Qingqing was overjoyed, glancing at the man at the center—aloof and distinguished. Her heart pounded as she approached, cheeks burning.

She picked up the wine bottle, but in the next instant—

Ji Xian suddenly crushed his glass in his hand, his eyes sharp and dangerous, voice ice-cold and laced with hostility: “Get out.”

“All of you—get out!”

The crashed glass hit the floor with a harsh clatter, and the entire suite fell instantly silent.

Qingqing turned pale with fright, trembling as she followed the manager out.

The young men exchanged baffled, complicated glances.

Ji Xian was the golden boy—the center of everyone’s attention. No matter when, he always wore a calm, icy expression, keeping up a flawless facade, never betraying his emotions.

He was always like this.

Except for tonight, when he’d lost his temper in front of everyone.

One of the boys cleared his throat, trying to break the tension, “Since Master Ji’s celebrating his birthday early, why don’t we sing—”

Before he could finish, Ji Xian strode out with a cold face, completely disregarding their feelings.

“Don’t go, Master, you haven’t even had your cake...” Yu Wenjian chased after him, trying hard to persuade, though he rolled his eyes inwardly.

Frozen Prince, who the hell are you putting on this show for?

Midnight. 00:00.

Ji Xian’s phone was flooded with birthday wishes.

He scrolled through them impatiently, but could not find a single message from Qiao Zhen.

She had his number—if she’d blocked him on social media in a moment of anger, she could still have sent a text.

If Qiao Zhen had any sense, she’d take the initiative to apologize, be a bit more obedient, stay away from other men, and stop playing these games.

It’s not that Ji Xian was unwilling to forgive her.

Yet five minutes past midnight, and still, not a single message from her.

Ji Xian sat motionless, brows slightly furrowed, his expression growing colder and colder.

Last year at this time, Qiao Zhen had timed her wishes perfectly—not just a typed message, but a handwritten card she’d photographed for him.

She’d specially used a black card, gold calligraphy pen, her script neat and elegant.

Ji Xian opened their chat history and quickly found the image, but as soon as he tapped it—

The system prompted: [This image has expired!]

He stared blankly at the message, a strange emotion welling inside, and murmured softly:

“It’s expired.”

Ten minutes passed slowly before Ji Xian set down his phone abruptly, gazed at his slightly discomposed reflection, and quickly restored his composure.

What was there to care about?

It was Qiao Zhen who couldn’t let go of him. It was Qiao Zhen who needed him.

She would come back…