Chapter 4
Edward Quan ·
When I'm alone, I love talking to myself.
I can hold a perfectly entertaining conversation all on my own, as though I have several personalities.
Over the past few days...
Trì Kính must have heard plenty.
Was there something wrong with him?
Why did he keep haunting me like a ghost?
Worse still, he secretly took pictures of me.
Once, he forgot to mute the shutter.
Click.
I had to ask, “What are you photographing?”
He brazenly continued snapping away from every angle.
“Nothing. Just something interesting.”
In his blurry reflection, I thought I saw the corner of his mouth lift.
Was that amusement? Satisfaction?
I couldn't see clearly enough.
I only knew it sent a chill down my spine.
13
I went into the bathroom.
While undressing, I accidentally knocked over the body wash.
The bottle hit the floor with a loud thud.
The bathroom door immediately slid open.
Trì Kính came in without a word.
I hurriedly pulled my half-removed clothes back into place.
He glanced at the fallen bottle and naturally stepped over to pick it up.
Then he crouched down.
Pretending to be the dog.
My face burned with anger.
So every time someone came into my bathroom, it wasn't Nguyên Bảo.
It was him!
I deliberately asked, “Nguyên Bảo?”
Then I made my way to the door, opened it, and put on my sweetest coaxing voice.
“Good boy. It's all wet in here. You'll get soaked. Outside, please.”
Trì Kính hesitated, then stood and silently left.
I exhaled in relief.
And immediately locked the door.
14
Afterward, Trì Kính summoned the butler to dry my hair.
The butler took the hair dryer—and handed it straight to him.
Only when Trì Kính had finished did the butler step forward.
“All done, madam.”
As though he'd been the one drying my hair.
Clearly, this wasn't their first performance.
So Trì Kính had been the one looking after me all along.
That afternoon, I lay on the sofa listening to my secretary's work report.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Nguyên Bảo approach.
Automatically, I held out my hand for him to lick.
He wagged his tail and ran off, completely ignoring me.
While I was still puzzling over that, Trì Kính quietly approached in his immaculate suit.
Expressionless, he knelt before me.
Warm dampness enveloped my fingertips, then the spaces between them. A shiver ran through me.
The sight was so startling I nearly cried out.
So the one licking me all this time hadn't been Nguyên Bảo.
It had been...
I calmly waited for him to finish, withdrew my hand, and then swung it as though by accident.
Smack.
Trì Kính rubbed his head.
“Why did you hit me... I mean, my dog?”
“Sorry! Is Nguyên Bảo all right?”
I innocently stroked his curls.
“Your licking tickled Mommy too much. I couldn't take it.”
“...”
As I washed my hand, I thought: So you like licking, do you?
Next time, I'll pick up dog poo with my bare hand and offer you that!
15
Apparently, Trì Kính cooked for me every day, too.
Today, he'd made my favorite pork-rib soup.
As usual, the butler fed me.
Except I now knew it was really Trì Kính.
What I hadn't expected was that before every spoonful, he touched his lips to the spoon.
If I weren't such a good actress, I'd have thrown up on the spot.
Even my great-grandfather, who'd died ten years ago, had never fed me like that. A young CEO in his twenties was using methods this ancient?
Just feed me! Why did he have to suck the spoon first?
Thinking about all the soup I'd consumed this way made my stomach churn.
“I don't want any more!”
Still hungry, I sat there with my stomach growling.
Trì Kính came over.
“Would you like something else?”
“What?” I asked absently.
He stood up, deft fingers undoing his belt.
“Would you like a banana?”
I went utterly still.
Every long, cylindrical food I'd ever eaten flashed through my mind.
Cucumbers. Sausages. Eggplants...
You bloody pervert! If you try feeding me anything you shouldn't, I am biting down!
Then Trì Kính fastened his belt again, turned around, and brought me an actual banana.
I finally breathed.
A real banana.
I'd thought he meant... a “banana.”
16
When my vision had fully recovered, I decided to confront him.
Then I discovered a photograph of Thẩm Nghiễn Bạch pinned to the dartboard in the billiard room.
So many darts covered his handsome face that it looked like a sieve.
I calmly sat beside Trì Kính.
He lounged on the sofa, the top three buttons of his white shirt undone, hinting at the contours of his chest.
He tilted his head toward me, eyes as dark as undiluted ink.
Still unaware I could see, he openly sent a message.
“Keep watching Thẩm Nghiễn Bạch. Be discreet. Don't let anyone find out.”
My heart plummeted.
I thought back to the crash.
Getting into Thẩm Nghiễn Bạch's car had been a spur-of-the-moment decision.
So...
Was Thẩm Nghiễn Bạch the intended target?
Had Trì Kính arranged it?
Out of jealousy?
To find out, I decided to keep pretending I was blind.
That sounded difficult.
In practice, it was even worse.
Trì Kính stared at me without the slightest restraint.
He would sit beside me all afternoon, gazing at me as though I were a priceless treasure.
Sometimes he became so entranced that the butler silently offered him a handkerchief.
Trì Kính would take it, wipe the corner of his mouth, prop his chin on his hand, and resume staring.
His normally icy eyes seemed to burn.
“...”
He was almost making me feel good about myself.
Mr. Trì hardly suffered from a shortage of beautiful women.
Was all this really necessary?
Was I that gorgeous?
And there was more.
He drank from my used water bottle, then pressed it to his face and nuzzled it, looking blissful.
When I casually handed him my jacket, he buried his face in it and inhaled deeply.
Utterly content.
“...”
While helping me put on socks, he seemed to find something about my feet unbearably adorable.
He fidgeted, squeezed his eyes shut, and tried to control himself.
Like a cat lover struggling with cute aggression.
At last, unable to resist, he bent and lightly kissed the top of my foot.
Startled, I kicked.
Blood promptly streamed from his elegant nose.
I hurried to cover myself.
“What did I hit?”
Clutching his nose, Trì Kính took a long time to answer.
“... The dog.”