Chapter 97: Indebted

At ten o’clock in the deep night, An Tong was typing code swiftly, her fingers flying across the keyboard with hardly a pause. When she finished handling the last-minute task, the clock in the lower corner of her screen already read half past eleven.

She rubbed her aching shoulders, sank back against her chair for a brief moment of rest, then soon rose and stepped out of her room.

The second-floor corridor was quiet, illuminated by two wall lamps, accentuating the tranquil stillness of the night. As she passed Rong Shen’s master bedroom, she deliberately lightened her steps. Hearing nothing and seeing no light seeping out from under the door, she descended the stairs unburdened.

The man’s bedroom was right next to hers—just a wall between them. They had agreed to each take a floor in the duplex villa when they moved in, but on the actual day, neither mentioned it; silently and naturally, they entered their own rooms.

Downstairs, the living room was shrouded in darkness. In the dim light, An’an heard her approach and dashed to her feet, nuzzling against her. The little creature had visibly grown taller, yet those bright, round eyes remained unchanged—looking at An Tong as if she were the whole world.

She switched on the spotlight by the window, bent down and scooped up An’an’s plump body, her heart suddenly awash with complex emotions. Recently, her attention had been diverted by the man, inevitably neglecting An’an.

Crouching on the floor, she hugged and petted him several times. Glancing at the dog bed by the window, she realized it was getting too small for the rapidly growing pup.

“How about I take you out for a walk tomorrow?” she whispered, feeling a pang of guilt, especially when she looked into An’an’s eyes and sensed her own shortcomings.

The puppy’s front paws clung to her knee, hind legs bouncing as he tried to leap up for another hug. Feeling tender, she didn’t hesitate—carrying him straight to the dining room.

The dining room of the Camphor Villa was neither large nor small, much like the one at the Rear Lake Villa. An Tong had originally planned to pour herself a glass of cola, but to make up for An’an, she opened the wall cabinet and took out his dog food, meat jerky, milk tablets…

Finally, she fed the little one a late-night snack, grabbed two bottles of cola, and, with An’an tucked under one arm, returned to her room.

She had owed her little companion lately; tonight, to make amends, she let him sleep on the bed.

…

The next day was Sunday.

Before six in the morning, An Tong was roused by An’an. The puppy, having been roaming freely in the garden for some time, had no fixed routine; now awake, he whimpered to go outside.

Half-asleep, An Tong pressed her forehead against his, trying to drift back to sleep, but he began licking her face. After a few rounds, she was fully awake.

She pulled on her coat, wrapped a scarf around her neck, and led An’an downstairs.

The sky before seven was veiled in morning mist. Sitting on the steps by the door, An Tong rested her chin on her hand, watching An’an dart about the small garden, her mood serene and tranquil as never before.

Suddenly, the sliding door connecting the living room opened behind her. In the quiet dawn, the man’s raspy, magnetic voice was clear as ever: “Why are you sitting outside? Aren’t you afraid of catching cold?”

As his words faded, An Tong’s arm was pulled up and she was drawn into his broad, warm chest.

She was still drowsy from lack of sleep, caught in a half-dream, half-awake haze. Leaning against his chest, she looked up to meet his gaze.

It seemed he had just washed up, for his scent carried a fresh trace of aftershave.

An Tong’s eyes lingered on his face. “You’re up so early?”

Winter in Zhanzhou was bitterly cold. He wrapped his arm around her back, said nothing, but firmly guided her back toward the living room.

An Tong struggled slightly, pointing behind her. “An’an is still outside.”

“He won’t get lost.” Rong Shen opened the sliding door and sighed, “Go inside first.”

Unable to resist his insistence, she obediently entered the living room.

Soon, the man called An’an back and headed straight to the dining room.

An Tong sat quietly for a few seconds, sleepiness washing over her. She covered her mouth with the back of her hand and yawned.

At that moment, Rong Shen, returning, caught her in the act.

He handed her a glass of hot milk. An Tong blinked her sore eyes and thanked him.

“Up so early on the weekend just to keep the little one company outside?”

She took a sip of milk and replied seriously, “He wasn’t running wild…”

Rong Shen sat down beside her, his strikingly handsome face showing a hint of disapproval. “Did you let him sleep in your room again last night?”

Though it was a question, his tone was matter-of-fact, as if he already knew.

An Tong glanced at him, lowered her head, and continued drinking her milk. She said nothing, almost as if she were guilty and afraid to admit it.

Rong Shen had intended to lecture her, but seeing her small, evasive expression, his sternness faded.

He laughed and shook his head, tapping the air twice with his fingers. “Always so stubborn.”

His words carried the air of a family head, lamenting her lack of discipline.

An Tong drank half her milk, about to get up and return to bed when the main door on the other side of the living room opened—the housekeeper had just returned from the market.

“Young Master, Young Lady,” Aunt Zhu greeted, carrying fresh vegetables, pausing for a second, “Please wait, I’ll prepare breakfast right away.”

Seeing her flustered urgency, An Tong quietly assured her there was no rush.

Aunt Zhu looked familiar; from her address, she was likely a housekeeper assigned from the garden side.

An Tong scrutinized her for a moment, then turned to meet the man’s deep gaze.

She had never thought Rong Shen’s eyes were special before—aside from occasional awkwardness when he seemed to see right through her, everything had felt normal.

But since their feelings had been revealed, An Tong found herself unable to meet his eyes directly.

Dark and fathomless, focused and enigmatic, like a bottomless black hole, capable of drawing in all reason and thought, leaving one utterly lost.

An Tong, indeed, forgot what she meant to say, staring at him, lips pressed tight then relaxing, her expression dazed.

At times like this, it was always the more mature Rong Shen who broke the silence.

He rose slowly, one hand in his pocket, paced to her side, and gently stroked her head. “If you’re still sleepy, why not lie down for a while longer and come down for breakfast later?”

He offered the suggestion, seeking her consent.

An Tong gazed up at him, heart fluttering, her actions slipping beyond conscious control. Without thinking, she leaned forward and rested her head against his side.

She softly agreed, yet lingered in the warmth of this early morning.

His palm remained atop her head, and seeing her motionless, he teased patiently, “Do you want me to carry you upstairs?”

At his words, An Tong finally stepped back.

To let him carry her up… that image…

Her cheeks flushed red. Without a word, she stood and fled upstairs in a hurry.

Back in her room, her eyes were sore but sleep eluded her. She hugged her pillow, burying her face, secretly imagining how it would feel to be carried by him.

(End of chapter)