Chapter Five: Solitude

Driving to Xiangshan Villa on Wenshui Road, she arrived at a mountaintop estate on the outskirts of the city. The villa was shrouded in verdant trees and surrounded by maples, nestled by the mountains and water, with air so fresh it felt untouched by the world. The cluster of villas at the summit was hidden within the hills, offering absolute peace and freedom from the prying eyes of paparazzi—though it was indeed far from the city center.

The villa had three stories. The first floor housed a spacious hall for gatherings, a dining room, and guest quarters. On the second floor were the study and a room filled with entertainment equipment: a home theater, exercise machines, and even a dance studio designed solely for Rong Qing’s training. The third floor contained the bedrooms: a master suite and two secondary rooms. The layout was closer to a European minimalist style, with a fresh and bright palette of blue and white. A king-sized bed lay at the heart of the master bedroom, while the bathroom was semi-transparent, offering a vague view of its interior. At the sight, Rong Qing’s face darkened—how was she supposed to bathe in there!

“Miss Rong, if there’s nothing else, I’ll take my leave. There’s a car in the garage for your use at any time,” Yan Lin explained before departing.

Exhausted, Rong Qing kicked off her shoes and collapsed onto the soft sofa like a newborn sinking into clouds. The moment she turned on her phone, a cascade of beeps sounded—over a dozen messages popped up.

“Boss, there’s trouble—check the news right away.”

“Boss, where are you? I’ve called a dozen times. Why was your phone off?”

“Qing, did you really break up with Wang Chenhao? Your story is all over the news now…”

“Rong Qing, you’ve turned your phone on—call me right away, I’m worried about you.”

Every message came from the same person: her best friend Meng Lin. The flood of texts brought a rare warmth to Rong Qing’s recent days.

Just then, her phone rang, and seeing the caller ID, a smile finally appeared on her lips. The moment she answered, a roar blasted through her earpiece.

“Rong Qing, where the hell have you been! How dare you not answer my calls or even turn off your phone? I’ve nearly worn out your number these past few days! And that Wang Chenhao—he actually cheated on you, and with your assistant, no less! That scumbag and that tramp—they truly are a match made in hell.” Sensing something amiss on the other end, the tirade softened, and Meng Lin asked tentatively, “Qing, are you okay?”

A mischievous smile instantly bloomed on Rong Qing’s face, melting away her icy composure. “Have you finished yelling, Lin? You’re still as hot-tempered as ever. What man would dare want you?”

“Hmph, I don’t need a man to spoil me. All I need is you! You’re stuck with me for life,” Meng Lin immediately whined, her earlier bluster gone.

“Alright, you said it. You’d better not run off with your husband someday and abandon me.”

“Oh please, Boss, the media’s in a frenzy and you’re still this calm?” Hearing Rong Qing sounding normal, Meng Lin relaxed.

“Their hype only benefits me, don’t forget—I’m the ‘victim’ here,” Rong Qing replied, her beautiful eyes gleaming with cunning.

“Haha, true enough. So, where are you staying now, Boss?”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got a place. I’ll come find you in a couple of days.”

After hanging up, Rong Qing rubbed her aching temples and sank back into the plush sofa, slipping on black-framed glasses and picking up the script Yan Lin had left for her, delving into each page.

Huo Lingtian had originally planned to return to his apartment near the company, but flashes of last night’s events kept appearing in his mind. He instinctively changed direction, heading instead toward his villa in the suburbs. When he arrived, he saw a figure curled up on the soft sofa. Dressed in nothing but a thin layer of clothing, she was nestled in one corner, arms half-encircling a script. Even behind the oversized glasses, her features couldn’t hide their allure; her rosy lips curved slightly, her skin was swan-like and fair, her collarbones elegant, and the hint of a deep valley peeking through.

Suddenly, Huo Lingtian felt a tightness below his waist, his throat inexplicably parched—the familiar feverish sensation threatened to take over once more.

With a curse, he yanked off his tie, throwing himself lazily onto the sofa, exuding a cold indifference.

At that moment, Rong Qing, roused from her sleep, pushed her glasses up as they slid down her hair. She yawned into her hand, tears glistening in her drowsy eyes, and murmured, half-coquettish, “You’re back. Have you eaten?” The words had barely left her lips before she realized what she’d said and snapped fully awake.

The previously harmonious air turned awkward in an instant. Huo Lingtian’s gaze grew dangerously sharp as he looked at the woman before him—the woman who had only yesterday become his. Yet she spoke with such practiced intimacy, as if he were someone else. Her sweet, gentle words lodged in his chest, stirring a jealousy he’d never known.

“No,” Huo Lingtian replied icily, his eyes fixed on her.

Rong Qing met his gaze for only a moment before surrendering—one must bow to the circumstances, especially with the icy Huo Lingtian.

“Wait here,” she said, disappearing into the kitchen. Opening the fridge, she found it packed with ingredients. The kitchen’s semi-open design made her acutely aware of his cold stare, leaving her uneasy.

Huo Lingtian had never known himself capable of such patience, watching someone for so long. The girl before him was breathtaking, but he was not a shallow man—yet something about the sight of a stranger cooking for him, her flustered movements alone, unsettled his heart.

In no time, Rong Qing had prepared four dishes and steamed the rice. She was a skilled cook; after her parents’ deaths, she had learned to fend for herself, and during her time living with Wang Chenhao, she always made breakfast and dinner. She wouldn’t change for anyone—this was her way of life, and her way of showing care.

Rong Qing, careful of her figure, ate little; most of the food was devoured by Huo Lingtian, who, now sated, lounged on the sofa like a well-fed panther, radiating an aura of danger.

——

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