Yuan Su looked down at her, at the way she was both demanding and utterly insecure, and the faintest smile tugged at his lips.
The smile was slight and fleeting, yet it instantly brought his usually stern face to life, lending him the easy, handsome confidence of someone who had weathered the world.
"All right."
He dialed the number right in front of her.
To put her at ease, he even turned on the speakerphone.
"Hey, Nie Yang." Yuan Su leaned against the table, his voice returning to its lazy, low register. "I won't be working on that red semi tonight. Take Xiao Zhang and put in some overtime. Count the transmissions."
"Huh?"
Nie Yang's voice boomed from the other end, mingled with the roar of the wind. "Come on, Yuan Su, your place is two steps from the shop. I could hear you if you shouted. Why bother calling? You think calls are free?"
Yuan Su chuckled, sounding rather casual. "Nope."
With that, he hung up.
He tossed his phone back onto the table, pulled out the chair, and sat down again. Looking at Pu Yu, he raised an eyebrow. "Feel better now?"
Pu Yu's cheeks flushed slightly, and she lowered her head in embarrassment.
As long as he stayed where she could see him.
Anything was fine.
Pu Yu finished the bowl of noodles, drinking every last drop of broth.
With warmth in her stomach, a little color finally returned to her pale face.
Yuan Su took the empty bowl.
"Want more?" he asked.
Pu Yu shook her head, but her gaze remained glued to him, as though he might vanish into thin air if she so much as blinked.
Yuan Su got up to wash the bowl.
He bent over the sink, his broad back silent.
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