Chapter 10
The money in his palm seemed to burn, its color just as vivid as the heat scorching his hand. But Chen Ju couldn’t bear to let go. He carefully folded the hundred-yuan bill, slipped it into his pocket, quickly wiped his damp eyes with his sleeve, took a deep breath, and walked out of the hallway.
The hotel was busy at night, and people were needed everywhere. Chen Ju soon forgot what had just happened. Only when he passed the private room Jiang Zhou was in did he instinctively lower his head and hurry by.
He worked until nine thirty before finally getting a break to eat dinner.
He picked up his boxed meal from the back kitchen, found an empty corner of the lobby, and crouched behind a flowerpot to eat slowly. He greatly enjoyed eating alone.
At his uncle’s house, Chen Ju always had to wait until his uncle’s family had finished eating before he could eat. Much of the time, all that remained was less than a bowl of rice and some vegetable broth.
The elevator doors in the lobby opened, and Liu Shengyue was the first to step out, a small handbag in her hand. She continued their earlier conversation: “Isn’t Grandpa Jiang coming back in another month? Can’t you move your date to another day?”
Jiang Zhou slowed his pace, not walking alongside Liu Shengyue. His tone was flat as he said, “I have something to do that day. I already made plans, and I can’t get out of them.”
“Then what am I supposed to do?” Liu Shengyue stopped and turned to look at Jiang Zhou pitifully. “You know how stubborn my dad is. Can you really bear to watch me go on a blind date with some man I don’t even know?”
“You know Song Qingtan,” Jiang Zhou said.
Liu Shengyue immediately dropped her ingratiating expression and stopped pretending. She glared at him. “Is that the point? Fine, your business is the most important. I’ll go, okay?”
Before she had even finished speaking, Liu Shengyue’s handbag flew at Jiang Zhou and landed in his arms. Then she turned with a flourish and strode away in her high heels without looking back.
“Sis!” Liu Jingque, who had been walking behind them, hurried forward. “Brother Zhou, how did you upset my sister again? It’s so late, and she’s been drinking. Don’t let her drive recklessly like last time.”
“The keys are inside. She can’t drive.” Jiang Zhou handed Liu Shengyue’s handbag to Liu Jingque.
“That’s good. I’ll get going, then. See you next time, Brother Zhou~” Liu Jingque took the bag and hurried after her.
The lobby fell quiet again. The polite smile in Jiang Zhou’s eyes faded as he turned his head slightly and looked behind the flower bed with its lush greenery.
Feeling Jiang Zhou’s gaze, Chen Ju shuddered guiltily, shrank in on himself, and edged farther behind the flowerpot.
He hadn’t meant to eavesdrop. And from that far away, he hadn’t heard clearly what they were saying. He only knew that they seemed to be arguing.
Besides, he’d been thinking the whole time that Jiang Zhou and that woman looked like a couple even when they were arguing. He hadn’t paid attention to what they were arguing about. His heart still felt heavy, and even his boxed meal didn’t taste good anymore.
Jiang Zhou walked toward him. He’d found him after all. Chen Ju gripped his meal box, unsure what to do. By the time he came to his senses, Jiang Zhou had already stopped in front of him.
“Come out.” Jiang Zhou’s voice held no inflection.
Chen Ju knew Jiang Zhou was angry because he’d been eavesdropping. Jiang Zhou hated people following him. Back in high school, Chen Ju had often secretly followed him to find out where he lived and what he did every day. Every time, Jiang Zhou had caught him.
Even now, Chen Ju still remembered the disgust filling Jiang Zhou’s indifferent eyes.
“I wasn’t eavesdropping.” Chen Ju slowly stood up, his back against the wall, and explained in a quiet voice, “I was just here eating.”
Jiang Zhou’s gaze fell on the shabby meal box in Chen Ju’s hands. “Is this all you’re having for dinner?”
Chen Ju instinctively tucked the meal box against his chest and shielded it with one arm, fidgeting as he said, “Just... having a little something.”
Fortunately, Jiang Zhou didn’t press him about the meal. He held out a hand and said succinctly, “Your phone.”
Chen Ju glanced at Jiang Zhou’s open palm, then looked up in confusion and asked blankly, “What?”
Jiang Zhou’s brows drew together, and he seemed impatient as he said in a low voice, “You still haven’t given me your number. It’s a hassle not being able to reach you.”
“Ah.” Chen Ju froze, then lowered his head and stared at his shabby meal box. It took him a long while to force out the words, his voice so quiet it was almost inaudible. “I don’t have a phone.”
He had no friends and no one he needed to contact, so a phone was more or less useless to him. Besides, they were rather expensive—enough to pay for several meals—so he’d never bought one.
“You don’t even have a phone?” Jiang Zhou’s cool voice held no inflection, but to Chen Ju, it sounded as if he doubted the truth of what he’d just said.
He lowered his head in embarrassment, his eyes growing warm. Fortunately, the walkie-talkie crackled just then, and the manager called him to the back kitchen to wash dishes.
“I-I have to get back to work.” Chen Ju nodded at Jiang Zhou, then darted away like a startled rabbit.