Chapter 10: No Longer Playing With Her

Si Yao’s eyes flickered; she fell silent for a minute, then, under the weight of his inscrutable gaze, abruptly changed the subject. “It’s in the coat, I’ll go get it.”

This was their rule before they began—contraception, always.

Xing Jue watched her for a moment, then let go.

Si Yao crawled over, fished out three packets, locked the door, and crawled back. “Go ahead.”

Her voice was still gentle, but now tinged with a weary hoarseness.

Xing Jue sat on the thin bedding spread on the floor. “Is it comfortable, sleeping here?”

“Very.” Si Yao had no patience for small talk and handed him the items.

Xing Jue toyed with them for a moment, eyeing Si Yao.

In the dim light, she was slowly unbuttoning her nightgown, her movements languid, each inch of pale skin revealed with deliberate slowness. She looked listless, but still undeniably alluring.

Xing Jue studied her in silence. Everything about her was fine, except for the glaring words written across her downcast brow: “Unwilling.” It was… thoroughly dispiriting.

He tossed the packets back to her. “Boring.”

Then he stood, opened the door, and left.

Si Yao let out a long breath and rolled over to sleep.

The next morning, Xing Jue told Si Yao to clean up the house, then left. Wen Sui was a little unhappy, sitting on the sofa and glancing repeatedly at Si Yao as she scrubbed the floor.

“What’s wrong?” Si Yao wiped the sweat from her brow.

Wen Sui replied, “Last night I asked A-Jue if he would marry me.”

“Oh? And what did he say?”

“He said, ‘I’m sorry to you.’”

Si Yao nearly laughed out loud. “‘Sorry to me?’”

“He said you grew up in the Xing family, and if you broke up with him, you’d be cast out. Plus, you’re cold and unfeeling—no one in Qingcheng would want you.”

Truth, when spoken plainly, could sting, but Si Yao had heard it too many times to care. She put away the rag and walked over.

Wen Sui moved deeper into the sofa and handed her a wet wipe—a silent suggestion to clean her hands that had just been scrubbing the floor.

Si Yao took it but didn’t sit with her. Standing, she said, “Can’t you tell an excuse when you hear one? Xing Jue just means he doesn’t want to marry you—he’s just toying with you.”

She bit hard into the words “just toying,” then lifted her hand and tossed the white wet wipe into the trash, her smile cool and detached. “He’s had plenty before, but only one you could truly call an ex—her name is Xing Ani, the daughter adopted by the Xing family’s second uncle. Raised like a princess, if not by birth then by fortune, a hundred times luckier than any heiress. Childhood sweethearts, inseparable since they were small—the perfect description for them. And now, she’s even changed her surname to marry Xing Jue.”

Si Yao crossed her arms, smiling softly. “Sui Sui, this is Xing Jue making me his excuse to avoid marrying you. How can you be so naive?”

Wen Sui stammered for a while. “No, that’s not it. A-Jue told me he doesn’t love her, only me. He even said you’re pitiful…”

Her voice grew smaller and smaller until it faded into silence.

The word “love”—Si Yao had heard it from Xing Jue’s lips a thousand times, if not ten thousand. It was worthless, as casual as discussing what vegetables to eat today or tomorrow.

With effort, Si Yao reined in her impatience. “If I were you, I wouldn’t waste my time watching me—I’d keep my eyes on Xing Ani.”

She turned away, rolled up her sleeves, and got back to work.

By evening, the first batch of furniture arrived—brand new sofa and dining table. The big bed for the master bedroom would come early the next morning.

Wen Sui shook off her earlier gloom, cheerfully directing the new housekeeper to arrange everything. As dusk deepened, she pestered Si Yao to call Xing Jue.

Worn down, Si Yao finally called him.

On the other end, a woman’s laughter could be faintly heard. Xing Jue’s voice was tinged with a gentle sweetness, but his words were cold: “I’m at K1. Not coming back.”

He hung up without another word.

Si Yao’s grip tightened on the phone. Meeting Wen Sui’s hopeful gaze, she felt only contempt.

It was only the second day, and yet—so useless. How could she ever compete with Xing Ani like this?

“Well? Is A-Jue coming? Give me the phone, let me talk to him.” Wen Sui reached for the phone as she spoke.

Si Yao dodged her grasp, then, in a gentle tone, spoke into the phone, “You’re spending the evening with Ani? Fine, as long as you have a good time.”

She tossed the already-disconnected phone into her pocket, her voice cool. “He’s got company tonight.”

She told the housekeeper not to prepare dinner or stay the night, sent her away, leaving only a mess of boxes and packing foam, then returned to her room and locked the door.

At midnight, an unfamiliar number called.

Xing Jue’s voice, slightly tipsy, came through. “Come pick me up.”

Si Yao hesitated, tempted to pretend she was asleep—that the phone had only been accidentally touched.

“Come,” Xing Jue’s low laugh drifted from the other end, making Si Yao’s skin crawl. “If you don’t, I won’t play with that little thing anymore.”