Xi Yi sat directly opposite Jia Xin, who was still sobbing quietly. All his life, he had seen many women; bold, dramatic, elegant, but never one who looked so completely defeated. He didn't know how to comfort crybabies, and watching her like this was oddly uncomfortable.
After a few moments of silence, he called for a bottle of whiskey, poured himself a drink, and took a slow sip.
"When you feel there are no more tears left to shed," he said calmly, "then talk to me."
He wasn't sure why he even cared. Since when did he become the type to get involved in a stranger's heartbreak?
Minutes passed before Jia Xin suddenly grabbed the bottle and took several quick gulps.
"What do you think you're doing?" Xi Yi said sharply, snatching it from her hand, but a fair amount had already gone down her throat.
"I'm fine now," Jia Xin murmured, her voice small, her eyes lowered.
"Have you ever had that drink before?" he asked, half mocking, half curious.
She shook her head. "No, I haven't."
He sighed. "You really are something."
A faint, tipsy smile curved her lips. "Why does everyone keep mocking me? Am I that stupid? I'm not stupid… just a little too dumb, haha."
Xi Yi couldn't help but chuckle under his breath. This girl, even in her sorrow — managed to be both frustrating and oddly endearing.
She stood up and staggered toward him, squatting right in front of his chair. "You're so handsome," she slurred, looking up at him. "Even more than all my male idols."
Xi Yi froze for a second. His assistant, Lan Zhi, who was standing at the door, almost stepped forward to pull her away, but Xi Yi raised his hand, a silent order not to interfere.
Moments later, Jia Xin's head drooped; she had fallen asleep right there beside him. With a soft sigh, Xi Yi lifted her into his arms and carried her to his room. He placed her gently on the bed and turned to see a thermos on the table.
"What's that?" he asked.
Lan Zhi replied cautiously, "Old Madam sent you some soup, sir. She said you could eat alone tonight and that she'll see you for breakfast tomorrow."
Xi Yi gave a simple "hmm" and opened the thermos. He drank the soup in a few gulps and handed the container back.
"Tell Grandma she doesn't need to come tomorrow. I'll be leaving in the morning."
"Yes, sir." Lan Zhi bowed and quietly left the room.
Minutes later, Xi Yi began to feel unusually warm. His pulse quickened, and a strange heat crawled through his veins. Then he remembered, his grandmother had mentioned something about a "special bird's nest soup." He sighed, realizing she must have tampered with it again in her desperate attempt to get him married.
Trying to shake it off, he stood up, planning to take a cold shower, but then Jia Xin stirred on the bed. Her hand reached out, catching his wrist, her eyes half-open and unfocused.
"Don't go," she whispered faintly.
For a moment, the world went still. The warmth inside him grew fiercer, his heartbeat uneven. He turned to look at her, and something in her expression, the quiet trust, the innocence, broke through his control.
"You don't know what you're asking for," he said softly.
She only nodded, eyes glistening with unshed tears.
And then, without another word, the distance between them disappeared. Words faded into emotion, a fragile, trembling need that neither could stop. The night deepened around them, the sound of rain brushing softly against the windows as two lonely souls found comfort in each other's warmth.
By dawn, the world outside was calm and silver-gray.
Xi Yi stirred first, watching the sleeping girl beside him. There was something peaceful about her, the faint traces of yesterday's sorrow replaced by innocence once again. He reached out and brushed a loose strand of hair from her face.
"You really are trouble," he murmured quietly.
When Jia Xin woke up later, her head throbbed painfully. She sat up slowly, pulling the blanket around herself, her heart pounding as memories from the night before returned in fragments, his voice, his touch, the warmth she couldn't forget.
She didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Shame, confusion, and disbelief swirled inside her. Gathering her courage, she dressed quietly, packed her things, and paused by the small desk. Picking up a pen, she wrote a short note:
"I'm so sorry for what happened. It was my fault. Please don't take it to heart.
I hope we never cross paths again.
— Jia Xin."
When Xi Yi came out of the bathroom, the bed was empty. His eyes darkened slightly when he saw the note on the table. He picked it up, reading the words slowly. For a moment, something unreadable flashed in his gaze, disappointment, maybe even regret.
He folded the note neatly and set it back down.
Back home, Jia Xin lay in bed staring at the ceiling. Tang Ning entered the room holding a glass of milkshake.
"Xin Xin, are you still sad?" Ning asked softly.
"No," Jia Xin replied after a moment. "I just feel… stupid. All this while, I was really stupid."
"Hey," Tang Ning said, sitting beside her. "Even if Mo Ting was a jerk, you still have me. So cheer up, okay? I don't like seeing you like this."
Jia Xin gave her a faint smile, but her heart was still heavy.
Elsewhere, in a grand, cold mansion, Xi Yi's assistant stood tensely in front of an elegant old woman descending the stairs.
"My prodigal grandson finally decides to visit his old grandmother," she said, eyes sharp but full of mischief.
"You don't look old to me," Xi Yi replied dryly. "And next time, don't tamper with my food."
The old madam chuckled softly as she sat down. "Don't look at me like that, Xi Yi. What else can I do? I'm not getting younger. I might die one day, and you still have no wife, no child!"
"You don't look like you're dying anytime soon," Xi Yi said coldly. "Just don't pull stunts like that again."
He turned and walked out, his assistant trailing behind.
The old lady sighed, folding her hands in frustration. "That silly child… what will I ever do to make him fall in love?"