Chapter 31

Take thirty-one bites.
“Well…”
“We grew up together. The number of times we slept in the same bed as kids is too many to count, so… we’ve slept together. Does that qualify?”
In Ying Tao’s mind, it was logical, neat, and perfectly reasonable.
He Mingye’s gaze was bland, like he was thinking. His fingertips tapped the tabletop in a steady rhythm.
“You’re sure you mean only as kids?” he asked. “Do you need me to remind you?”
“Half a month ago—”
“That was an accident.”
Ying Tao choked in panic, coughing twice as she hurriedly cut him off.
Mist pooled in her eyes, her cheeks flushed from coughing. “I wasn’t sober.”
Lust clouded her judgment. Lust clouded her judgment.
She must have been bewitched back then, to have dared lay hands on him.
And besides…
Hadn’t they already moved past that?
Why was he digging up old accounts?
“So,” the man said.
Those narrow phoenix eyes lowered lazily, his tone unreadable.
“When you were touching me in the room—”
“you weren’t sober then either?”
“…”
…
Ying Tao wrestled with it for a long time and still couldn’t figure it out.
What did he mean?
Did he actually want her to die to atone?
She’d only touched him a couple times. It wasn’t like he suffered some huge loss.
She’d seen plenty of models every year, but…
The nude models the art academy invited really couldn’t compare to He Mingye.
She replayed it in her mind: the feel of her fingertip brushing over his abdomen—
His temperature was high. His muscles were hard. Heat like fire.
It felt like it could melt down her reason too.
She swallowed unconsciously.
If she claimed everything she did was purely a pursuit of “beauty,” would that sound convincing at all?
“Peach?”
Hearing someone call her, she looked up in a daze.
Her face was still tinted pink, like she’d been stifled.
Zhou Chaoli asked gently, “Are you hot?”
Guilty, Ying Tao lowered her eyes and pretended she felt stuffy, tugging at her scarf. “A little.”
“Little uncle,” she said, deliberately changing the subject. “Did you come to see me today for something?”
She’d been staying at a hotel these past few days.
Other than He Mingye, almost nobody knew she was hiding here.
So when the front desk called her to ask, she’d been stunned.
She’d thought someone might come looking for her.
But she’d never imagined it would be Zhou Chaoli.
“Mm.” Zhou Chaoli fell quiet.
“About that day… I’m sorry.”
“Ah…”
Only then did Ying Tao realize. “That has nothing to do with you. My dad and I fight all the time.”
“And I know—you were a victim too.”
That day, Zhou Chaoli had been called back to the hospital for an emergency.
That was how being a doctor was: so busy your feet never touched the ground.
Holidays, vacations—if the hospital couldn’t spare hands, you could be summoned back at any time.
Ying Tao pressed her lips into a small smile. “If anything, I should be the one saying sorry.”
“On New Year’s Day, I made such a mess at your place. I even disturbed Grandma Zhou’s rest. I’m really sorry.”
“I’m not a victim.”
Zhou Chaoli looked at her steadily.
His eyes were calm, but the emotion inside was complicated—helplessness, and something even harder to name.
He let out a light, self-mocking laugh.
“Actually… I knew about it.”
“I just never found the right chance to explain it to you clearly.”
“…”
Ying Tao laughed awkwardly. “Grandma Zhou is probably just anxious for a grandchild because she’s getting older, so she grabbed at anything.”
“Don’t worry. I really didn’t take it to heart.”
She smiled with her eyes. “Honestly, this is also kind of on you.”
“If you’d explained it to Grandma Zhou earlier and brought your girlfriend home for her to see, she’d be reassured.”
“Then none of this ridiculous misunderstanding would’ve happened.”
Her father was the one who couldn’t tell right from wrong—making decisions for her without even asking.
“I don’t have a girlfriend.”
“…”
Ying Tao froze. Her brain nearly crashed.
All she managed was, “Huh?”
No girlfriend?
Did they break up?
Realizing she might have poked someone’s pain, she grew even more embarrassed.
After hesitating for a long time, she forced a laugh and tried to comfort him.
“It’s okay, um… breaking up is normal. Maybe your real match just hasn’t come yet.”
“Peach,” Zhou Chaoli said, watching her. His gaze was steady.
“You still don’t understand.”
“I don’t have a girlfriend.”
“Not before.”
“Not now.”
“…”
How could that be?
Ying Tao said blankly, “But I clearly saw…”
“Saw?” Zhou Chaoli looked like he didn’t understand what she meant.
Ying Tao fell silent all at once.
The time she and Zhou Lubai went to look for Zhou Chaoli—Zhou Chaoli himself had never known about it.
Back then, she’d only dared to look from far away.
And she’d only overheard people at his school talking.
“Is that Senior Zhou from the med school and Senior Song? Are they together now?”
“I think so. They’ve been coming and going together lately.”
“And at that dinner a while back, when people asked if they were dating, Senior Song didn’t deny it.”
“So nice. Senior Song is at Jingyi, right? And Senior Zhou will be interning at Jingyi soon too. Top students’ love is really enviable.”
“Seriously. I heard Senior Zhou has liked Senior Song for a long time. He’s been pursuing her.”
“But Senior Song’s taste was bad before—her ex was trash. He lived off her and cheated.”
“A couple days ago he even came to our campus to block her, begging to get back together. When she refused, he tried to hurt her.”
“Thankfully Senior Zhou was there and blocked it for her. Otherwise Senior Song would be disfigured by now.”
“Waaah, Senior Zhou looks so gentle and scholarly. Who knew his boyfriend energy was this strong? When will I ever date a fairy-tale boyfriend like that?”
“Ha. Keep dreaming. Someone like Senior Zhou would never look at ordinary girls.”
…
“Wait—”
“So you mean the person you once had a crush on actually never dated anyone, and you misunderstood it back then?”
“And now the two families are even leaning toward an alliance—meaning you might become his wife someday?”
Miao-miao found it unbelievable. “How can something this melodramatic happen?”
Ying Tao was speechless. “Correction: I already refused, okay?”
“Fine, fine.” Miao-miao grinned. “My bad.”
Then she asked curiously, “So why did he tell you all that? Does he like you? Or does he really want to marry you?”
“Impossible,” Ying Tao said flatly.
“He already rejected me.”
“Fair,” Miao-miao said. “That makes sense.”
The next second, she wiggled her brows with a wicked smile.
“Then what do you think?”
“Hearing that your crush has actually been single the whole time—do you feel like rekindling the flame?”
“…”
“Let me interview you,” Miao-miao said.
She set down her instant noodles, rolled up a document like a microphone, and put on a serious face.
“Miss Ying Tao, what are your current thoughts?”
“Are you planning to get back together with your former crush?”
“Or are you going to make it work with that childhood friend you accidentally slept with?”
“Or that god gamer you’ve never even seen—have a one-night river-dew marriage?”
“…You make me sound so scummy.”
“Aren’t you?” Miao-miao said. “People who sleep and run are ‘responsible’ now?”
She got more and more excited.
“Your life is so thrilling. Unlike mine—every day I open my eyes it’s work, and when I close them it’s work.”
“Do working drones not deserve love?”
“When will I get to feel what doing it is like? If I keep grinding like this, my hormones are going to go haywire and my ovaries will retire early.”
“…”
Ying Tao was already used to her talking like she wanted to shock people to death.
But clearly, someone else wasn’t.
Near the end of the video call, a voice drifted over from the other side—cool and eerie:
“During work hours, private chatting is forbidden.”
Ying Tao frowned in confusion.
For some reason, that voice sounded a little familiar.
Miao-miao panicked, hands flying, and cut the call.
The screen went dark.
…
Not long after the call ended, Miao-miao sent two WeChat messages:
[I’m dead. The vampire caught me red-handed.]
[Pray for me. Hope I can still crawl out with my body intact.]
Ying Tao had heard her complain plenty about that demon boss of hers.
She said he had a poisonous mouth, and when he did things he always revealed three parts and hid seven.
If it weren’t for the fact that his face was pleasing, she would’ve cursed his ancestors eight generations back.
Ying Tao snorted with laughter.
But she stopped laughing almost immediately.
Lying on the bed, she sighed.
What kind of mess was this, seriously…
She tossed and turned, unable to sleep.
She didn’t dare log into the game either.
Bored, she accidentally tapped into a new Weibo push notification.
Weibo had been lively these past couple days, but she rarely paid attention, so she’d missed it.
Ever since He Mingye delivered his exclusive New Year blessing on the Spring Festival Gala, Weibo had completely boiled over.
Everyone was guessing who that “little one” in his mouth was. People said everything.
“Ahhh is he dating? Who is ‘little one’? I don’t accept this!”
“Looks like I can’t hide it anymore. Yes, ‘little one’ is me. I’ve been married to him for ages.”
“Stop guessing. That blessing was definitely for his pet dog that’s already gone to the rainbow bridge. Old fans all know he used to have a little black dog. He’s sentimental—he even tattooed the dog’s portrait on his body.”
He Mingye had indeed posted photos of Little Black before.
But after Little Black died of kidney failure, those photos were hidden too.
The day they sent Little Black away, it rained as well.
The boy stood under an umbrella in silence, staying by her side.
She carefully placed Little Black’s favorite cotton doll beside it.
At the moment of burial, she suddenly couldn’t hold back the urge to cry.
She forced it down and asked in a muffled voice:
“Do you think Little Black will forget me?”
He Mingye didn’t answer directly. “Will you forget it?”
She shook her head. “No. It will always be my family.”
“To it,” he said, “it’s the same.”
“A dog is loyal to its owner for life.”
“It will remember you forever—just like you will never abandon it.”
“I want to tattoo it on my body.”
She was afraid that with time, Little Black’s shape would blur.
So she wanted to pin it into memory forever.
“Okay.”
The day they went to the tattoo shop, she was afraid of the pain, but she didn’t back down.
Instead, He Mingye grabbed her and said, “Don’t go.”
“Why?”
“You’re an athlete,” he said. “A tattoo will cause controversy.”
Back then, the sports authority hadn’t issued a clear requirement yet, but public opinion was harsh on athletes.
If a tattoo was exposed during competition—even one in a hidden spot—once someone leaked it, there was no guarantee it wouldn’t blow up.
He Mingye said, “I’ll get it for you.”
“I’ll do it with you.”
“We’ll keep it in memory forever.”
Actually, he wasn’t supposed to get tattoos either.
His father wanted him to become a pilot.
And the rules about tattoos in the military were blurry—step over the line and you could lose qualification.
So he tattooed Little Black on the inside of his thigh.
Back then she’d said, “I’ll never raise a dog again. A dog’s life is too short, and my lifetime is too long.”
“I don’t want to go through having something and then losing it again.”
If she raised another dog, it would feel like betraying Little Black.
Little Black’s life had been short.
It stayed with her for seven years, then left without a sound.
“Raise me.”
Ying Tao froze. “What?”
He Mingye’s eyes were deep.
“My life is long. I can stay with you forever.”
“I’ll love and protect you—forever—”
“including Little Black’s share.”
“So… raise me.”