Chapter 18

“I turned my phone off so I could focus on the manuscript—sorry I worried you.”

Zhao Ge senior sister laced her fingers in front of her, a shy flush coloring her smile.

The fact that Lin Zhe had come to check on her made her happier than she could say.

“Glad you’re okay, but are you pushing this hard because the deadline’s closing in?”

Lin Zhe remembered that the final volume of Love Execution Handbook wasn’t due in stores for another month.

Zhao Ge gave a small nod. “Mm.”

While answering, she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, revealing the breathtaking line of her profile. Bending slightly, she pulled a pair of guest slippers from the shoe cabinet and set them before him.

“Then I won’t stand on ceremony.” He stepped into the slippers without hesitation.

Watching him, Zhao Ge’s cheeks pinked as if something had just occurred to her.

Noting her change in mood, Lin Zhe asked, “What’s wrong...?”

She came back to herself with a tiny shake of the head, restoring her usual cool expression.

Seconds ago she’d been fantasizing—what would it feel like if she and Lin Zhe actually lived together?

Lin Zhe couldn’t help thinking that today’s version of his senior sister was different. The icy wall she normally kept between herself and the world had thawed a little.

What showed through instead was an unexpected softness.

Maybe being alone together in a one-room apartment made the difference.

He glanced around the tiny flat: one bedroom, one living area, plus kitchen and bath—neat, feminine, the computer desk facing away from the balcony sliding door. Heavy curtains swallowed most of the daylight.

Not bad—definitely an improvement over a certain shut-in dead-fish-eyed beauty.

Barefoot, Zhao Ge padded to the glass door and drew the curtain aside; sunlight flooded in.

She bit her lip, looking embarrassed.

If she’d known Lin Zhe was coming, she would have cleaned so he wouldn’t see her sloppy side.

Lin Zhe noticed the light makeup. People don’t bother with makeup when they’re home alone—unless they’re hiding something.

He knew her well enough to guess she’d been up all night racing the deadline.

That part hadn’t changed: once she set a goal, she worked nonstop until it was done.

The stubborn, single-minded streak was, in its own way, kind of cute.

He tapped the skin under his eye and grinned.

“Manuscripts matter, but so does your health. Try not to pull so many all-nighters—you’ve got panda eyes.”

The cool façade shattered; Zhao Ge’s face flamed. She flung a hand up to hide her cheek, turning away with a soft bite to her lip.

“Ah? Y-you noticed...?”

She refused to meet his gaze. Lin Zhe exhaled a long, resigned sigh.

Looks like he still couldn’t stop worrying about this silly senior sister.

“Zhao Ge senior sister,” he tried again, “have you been eating properly these last few days?”

Though they hadn’t seen each other in weeks, he was pretty sure she couldn’t cook—and he didn’t spot any take-out boxes either.

Zhao Ge wanted to sound confident, but under his stare she deflated like a punctured balloon. “Um...”

“Answer me properly.”

Under the firm order she finally whispered,

“When I’m writing I get distracted easily, so I haven’t gone out. Just instant noodles...and bread...”

Lin Zhe almost slapped his own forehead. He’d definitely taught this blockhead how to make a proper meal.

Their roles felt completely reversed.

He scanned the fridge, the kitchen, the boxes stacked in the corner: gallon jugs of purified water, instant noodles, bread, compressed biscuits. The freezer was a graveyard of frozen food.

He shut the door and said, head lowered, voice stern,

“You can’t live on this stuff. I’ll cook tonight—you can help.”

Zhao Ge froze.

How long had it been since she’d last eaten a meal he’d made?

Back then he used to come over and cook for her all the time.

The memories washed over her, bittersweet.

Why had she forgotten something so precious?

Her eyes stung. This boy had once rescued the gloomy, lonely, obstinate girl she used to be, and she had erased every trace of him from her mind.

His scolding tone, his worried face—each word felt like a hand squeezing her heart.

Watching him disappear into the kitchen, she pressed a palm to her chest and swore: until she’d paid properly for her guilt, he must never find out that she’d forgotten him.

She couldn’t bear to imagine how much it would hurt him.

Tying on the apron, Lin Zhe opened cupboards, then reappeared, defeated.

“There’s nothing in the fridge or the kitchen.”

He untied the apron strings while looking at her standing there like a lost penguin on an Antarctic ice floe.

Although she seemed aloof and untouchable, like a lone flower on a snow-covered peak, anyone who actually got close to her would discover that she was no icy blossom at all—just a hopeless penguin.

“Put on some clothes and take me to the supermarket in the complex. We need groceries.”

Even the cleverest housewife can’t cook without rice; I can’t conjure food out of thin air for this idiot penguin.

No—Antarctic penguins are smarter. At least they go hunt when they’re hungry.

It had been ages since they’d met, and Zhao Ge had wanted Lin Zhe to see how mature she’d become, how steady and reliable a senior she could be.

But she quickly—and tragically—realized that, in Lin Zhe’s mind, her dignified-senior image had already shattered into tiny pieces.

All she managed was a show of composure, a curt nod, and a single, non-committal syllable:

“Mm.”

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