Chapter Eighteen: As It Was

He gazed at her with a complicated expression, then bent down and placed a gentle kiss on her brow and eyes, as if pouring all his feelings into that soft touch. Only after a long moment did he straighten up. "It's not your fault, it's mine."

The girl looked up at him in confusion, as if unable to understand why her brother would say such a thing, searching his eyes for an answer.

But the man's gaze was deep and unfathomable, mysterious and impossible to read; the light in his eyes was beyond her comprehension, so she could only give up.

He took in every nuance of her expression without revealing his thoughts, then helplessly reached out to pat her head.

"Don't you trust your brother?"

"Of course I do! I trust you!" she nodded earnestly.

Since he said so, it probably had nothing to do with her. If he could be just like before, that was wonderful. The girl snuggled closer into his arms, filled with happiness.

A faint smile lingered on Mu Zichen's lips, his eyes shimmering with a light only he understood.

Ever since that impulsive kiss with the girl, his worries had only deepened. He feared she couldn't accept it so suddenly. More than that, he realized his feelings for her had grown uncontrollable; whenever she was near, he couldn't help himself...

So, in these recent days, he had tried various ways to distract himself, but nothing worked. She had taken root deep in his heart, impossible to remove, growing ever stronger...

With a bitter smile, he thought—since it can't be uprooted, let it grow. After all, he was willing. As long as he could stay by her side, that was enough.

The girl's feelings for him were still somewhat hazy; it would be best to guide her slowly.

Besides, she would soon be leaving for school in City B. He had to cherish these remaining days together.

After the reconciliation, the girl became more coquettish.

"Brother Zichen, are you asleep?" She gently pushed open his door, standing at the threshold, watching him sitting on the edge of the bed. She wore only a thin, strappy nightdress, her figure graceful, not an ounce of excess flesh, her slender white legs exposed to the air with a hint of allure.

Mu Zichen, too, was in a robe, script in hand, pondering his character's details. At her voice, he looked up, and when he caught sight of her bare feet, he sighed helplessly, set the script aside, and beckoned her over. "Jiujiu, come here."

Obediently, she walked over, and as soon as she reached him, he pulled her onto the bed, into his lean embrace. Through the thin fabric, she could feel the heat radiating from his body.

"When will you break this bad habit? Or are you just trying to make your brother worry?" His deep voice lingered by her ear, sending tingles through her heart.

She let out a delicate laugh. "Isn't my brother always here?" Her eyes brimmed with trust and dependence.

He smiled, a blend of helplessness and bitterness. "Of course. I'll always be here."

He rested his chin on her head, savoring the peace of the moment.

After a while, the girl grew restless and cautiously looked up. "Brother Zichen, can I sleep with you tonight?"

As she spoke, she gripped his robe tightly, wrinkling the fabric—a subconscious gesture betraying her fear.

She was so afraid he would reject her again, like the last time.

How could such a small gesture escape Mu Zichen, seasoned by years in the entertainment industry?

"Alright," he said indulgently, holding her as they lay down together, pulling the covers over them both, and turning off the light.

In the darkness, their breaths were hot and entangled.

"Brother Zichen, until I leave for Uncle Tingye's, can I sleep with you every night?"

"Alright."

"Really? You won't... like last time..." Her hesitant words sounded aggrieved in the dark.

Of course, Mu Zichen knew what she meant. His coldness last time had been a spur-of-the-moment test, but it had clearly frightened her.

He tightened his arm around her waist, pressed a light kiss to her fragrant cheek, then rested his forehead against hers and spoke softly, "I won't. Jiujiu, are you angry with me?"

In the pitch-black night, sight was useless. The girl's hearing became acute, every note of his deep, magnetic voice intoxicating. And Mu Zichen was so close—she could feel the warmth of his breath on her skin, mingled with the fresh, pleasant scent of his shower gel.

Everything made her mind blur, leaving her to answer purely from her heart.

"No, I could never be angry with you!" she replied, pouting her red lips coquettishly, burrowing even deeper into his embrace, pressing her soft body against his.

A deep light flickered in Mu Zichen's eyes. He kissed her face. "Good girl."

…

The next morning.

Mu Zichen woke and gazed quietly at the sleeping girl, an indulgent smile unconsciously appearing on his lips.

He gently moved her hand from his mouth, leaned over, and placed a lingering kiss on her lips. They were soft as warm honey—pure happiness.

My Jiujiu... he murmured in his heart, his lips curling in a gentle smile. He watched her a while longer before preparing to get up.

"Mm, Brother Zichen," she grumbled in her sleep, unhappy with his movement.

He froze immediately, not daring to move. "Sleep, sweetheart," he soothed, patting her back as if lulling a child.

She wriggled in his arms, then drifted off again.

Only when her breathing was soft and even did he carefully untangle her arm from around him and gently carry her back to her own room.

When she awoke and found herself in her room, she wasn't surprised.

After all, she knew Mu Zichen well—until she fell completely in love with him, he wouldn't let anyone know. He wanted her to fall for him, utterly and unconsciously.

She got up to wash, applied a light touch of makeup, and chose a pale pink dress—for today was her birthday.

She wondered what surprises awaited her.

Her fair arm rested lightly on the banister of the spiral staircase, her fingertips dancing as if playing the piano, graceful and elegant, her gaze sweeping downstairs.

As her eyes drifted to the main entrance, she suddenly noticed Mu Zichen returning home. Her almond-shaped eyes quivered with confusion. Where had he been?