Chapter 30 Not Even Wearing Clothes Yet!

“There’s a guest at home, staying in the room next to yours...” Song, the assistant, had said, his words echoing in his ears.

That carefree one?

This was even more unsettling to Gu Shiyan than stepping on a cat’s tail. Even after asking the person to leave, he had no intention of sleeping here tonight.

With a sudden rustle, the covers were abruptly lifted and tossed aside—half of them sliding to the foot of the bed, the other half flipping over to the opposite side.

The person lying there had nowhere left to hide.

It seemed the one in bed was still blissfully unaware of being exposed to watchful eyes. Feeling a sudden chill, she instinctively curled her hands closer to her body.

Gu Shiyan watched her clutch the pillow beside her, hugging it tightly in her sleep.

A faint, familiar fragrance lingered at the tip of his nose...

“Get up.”

His voice was slightly raised, deep and commanding.

Anyone with even a hint of alertness would have woken up by now.

He grabbed her hand and dragged her off the bed.

“Huh?” Luo Xing landed with a thump on the carpet, still groggy, her messy, slightly curled hair falling over her face.

“Get out.” His voice brooked no argument, gravelly and distinctively hoarse.

Luo Xing shivered.

Gu Shiyan?

Was she dreaming?

She pushed aside the hair obscuring her eyes.

The first thing she saw was a pair of long legs, a robe that barely reached the knees. Looking up... his smooth skin, lean and defined, the interplay of light and shadow accentuating the lines of muscle, a sheen of moisture glimmering on his skin.

Luo Xing raised her head to look—

Gu Shiyan!

“You...” Luo Xing truly wondered if she was still dreaming.

The room was dim, but it was unmistakably Gu Shiyan standing before her.

She blurted out, “How did you get in here?”

And—he wasn’t even dressed!

Gu Shiyan was just as stunned.

How could Luo Xing be in his house?

His mind raced back to all the harsh things she’d said.

A wave of irritation pressed in on him.

“The old man’s guest?” Gu Shiyan pulled her up to stand.

He usually paid no attention to matters on this side of the house. Song, the assistant, had only mentioned that the old man’s half-sister was visiting.

Nothing more.

Gu Shiyan had no interest in these affairs and hadn’t asked further.

Luo Xing was now wide awake.

“You, you...” She suddenly didn’t know where to begin her questions.

Unbelievable, that they would run into each other like this.

Especially after their recent argument.

She tilted her head, trying to avoid letting her gaze wander.

Gu Shiyan stepped forward.

His feet made no sound on the soft carpet.

He drew nearer to Luo Xing, startling her. “What are you doing!”

“What am I doing? Shouldn’t I be the one asking? You’re in my room, sleeping in my bed?” Gu Shiyan pressed in, relentless.

Luo Xing bumped into the edge of the table.

“How was I supposed to know, I...” Suddenly, realization dawned on her.

She tried to leave, but Gu Shiyan had her wrist in his grasp.

She struggled a couple of times, only to be pulled closer.

Luo Xing went still, her shoulders drooping as she looked at him.

A silent standoff.

Gu Shiyan’s thumb pressed into the soft flesh of her wrist.

“Luo Xing.” He called her name, but left the rest unsaid.

Gradually, his grip loosened.

Luo Xing pulled her hand away.

Bang—

Her elbow knocked into something hot, followed by the rich, unmistakable aroma of noodle soup.

She turned her head to see a porcelain bowl half-upturned, broth spilling across the table.

Suddenly, her lower back was supported, pulling her forward.

Familiar scents filled her nose—a woody fragrance with a touch of bitterness, clean and fresh.

They were both using the same shower gel; at this moment, the scent was identical on both of them.

Gu Shiyan held her by the waist, shifting her out of the way.

Luo Xing saw his hand, the one that had protected her a moment ago, now smeared with sticky soup.

“Why are you just standing there? Turn on the light,” he said calmly.

They could only see by the light spilling from the bathroom.

Clearly, neither had expected to meet the other again so soon.

The lights snapped on, illuminating the room.

Gu Shiyan glanced around. “Where’s the tissue?”

Luo Xing replied, “This is your house, how would I know?”

Gu Shiyan looked at her.

She wore an ivory nightdress, the square neckline revealing elegant collarbones. Her slender arms hung at her sides, the hem falling past her knees, edged with a delicate strip of white lace that rested against her fair, shapely calves.

She seemed to have a fondness for lace.

He stared at her a moment too long, and Luo Xing took two steps back.

Gu Shiyan chuckled. “If you take another step, you’ll hit the wall. Bring me the tissue.”

He lifted his eyebrows.

Luo Xing turned around, and sure enough, the tissues were by the table near the door.

Almost involuntarily, she tore off a sheet and handed it to Gu Shiyan.

He accepted it, saying, “So stingy?”

She moved to get more, but he stopped her.

He pointed to the side of the bed opposite him. “Stand over here.”

“Why?”

He repeated himself, then added, “You can’t stand over there.”

His tone was low and ominous, making Luo Xing shiver.

She swallowed, glanced behind her, and moved to the spot Gu Shiyan indicated.

Her feet shifted from the cold, hard tiles to the warm, soft carpet.

She curled her toes, lowering her gaze.

Dragged off the bed by Gu Shiyan earlier, she’d had no chance to put on her slippers.

Realizing this now, she quickly found her slippers and slipped them on.

Looking up, she saw Gu Shiyan getting his own tissue to wipe his hand.

Luo Xing glanced around. “Are you related to that old man?”

Gu Shiyan tilted his head, giving a soft laugh. “You know nothing about this place, and you dare stay here?”

—And you don’t even lock the door.

Luo Xing had wondered if Gu Shiyan was the old man’s grandson, but the room felt like a guest room, devoid of any personal belongings.

Gu Shiyan couldn’t even find the tissues.

He seemed like a stranger here for the first time.

“Well, sorry about spilling your noodles,” Luo Xing said quietly.

Gu Shiyan made a noncommittal sound.

She looked at him; he returned her gaze, as if waiting for her to continue.

Luo Xing pressed her lips together. “I’m not good at making noodles.”

“That’s all?”

Luo Xing glanced at the clock on the wall—it was already three in the morning.

“Should I cook you another bowl of noodles?” she ventured.

“Alright.”

“...”

After speaking, Gu Shiyan walked toward her.

“What are you doing?” Luo Xing stepped aside.

He didn’t answer, but opened the wardrobe and pulled out a bathrobe.

Luo Xing understood—he was getting dressed. She turned and left the room.

Gu Shiyan watched her go.

The door swung slightly behind her.

He walked over and closed it.

She really didn’t have the habit of closing doors behind her.

Luo Xing entered the kitchen.

Faced with unfamiliar utensils and ingredients, she stood there for a while, dazed.

She recalled that Gu Shiyan’s noodles seemed to have egg and tomato in them.

She picked up an egg and a tomato.

Looking at the pot, she hesitated.

Luo Xing had cooked a few times before, but it was all child’s play when she was little...

At home, the housekeeper did all the cooking. When the housekeeper was off, she ordered takeout or ate out.

Saying she wasn’t good at noodles was putting it mildly—she’d only ever made noodles once at her grandmother’s, following Shen Que.

Luo Xing sighed and got moving.

She took a bowl and cracked the egg, imitating what she’d seen on TV.

“Ouch...”

The bowl nearly toppled over; the eggshell broke in half, egg white spilling out, bits of shell falling into the bowl.

Luo Xing poured out the mixture, rinsed the bowl, and finally, all she managed was a lone, broken yolk sitting at the bottom.

A derisive laugh came from the doorway.