Chapter 141 — Old Buffon's Origins

It was no wonder Wang Jinde said what he did. In his mind, Zhao Ying was already Yang Juehuan's woman. So when he saw Yang Ce fly into a rage, his first thought was that these brands of condoms must not be to Yang Juehuan's liking.

At this moment, the expression on Yang Ce's face was a sight to behold. But Zhao Ying was watching him from close by, so he could not say too much. He only said, his face dark, "Buy your damn self. I have no use for this stuff."

"Oh, oh." Wang Jinde looked at Zhao Ying, then at Yang Ce, and then a look of sudden enlightenment came over him. "I get it, I get it." He hurried over to the nightstand and gathered up the boxes of condoms.

Yang Ce thought he had really understood. Little did he expect that when the fellow reached the door, he would mutter to himself, "So Brother Yang uses medication."

Yang Ce wanted nothing more than to give him a kick. This fellow—a little too clever, so clever it was almost absurd.

Zhao Ying wore an expression that was both amused and exasperated. By now she had naturally understood that it was all the doing of Yang Ce's friend, acting on his own initiative. But even if it had not been Yang Ce's idea, she still felt somewhat awkward.

After Wang Jinde had gone out, Yang Ce cursed under his breath, "That fellow, always mucking about with nonsense. Ignore him."

"Forget it. His intentions were good, really." Zhao Ying said, her face red. "He just misunderstood our relationship. If you had come with Chen Shutang, you wouldn't be cursing him, would you?"

"Uh—" Yang Puqi was embarrassed. Then he said, "Mengyan and I aren't like that either."

"Ha, who are you fooling?" Zhao Ying smiled. "I know what college students are like these days."

"So by that logic, Sister Ying, you've been through it too?" Yang Ce said teasingly.

"How did it get to me? I don't even have a boyfriend yet," Zhao Ying said, glaring at Yang Puqi.

"Ha, just kidding," Yang Yanzhou said. "Sister Ying, you should get some rest. You can't sleep on a plane, so you must be exhausted."

"Sure, but this room only has one big bed. What will you do?" Zhao Ying said. "You got woken up by me in the middle of the night, so you probably didn't sleep well either."

"Then I'll have them switch us to a twin room, or I'll just book another room for myself," Yang Yanchuan said.

"Forget it, no need." Zhao Ying shook her head. "We'd be putting them out, and they're already being generous hosting us. How about this—just lie down here and sleep too. We're not taking our clothes off anyway."

"All right then." Yang Duoran couldn't have asked for more. In his heart he still kept a certain feeling for Zhao Ying, a feeling that made Yang Ce experience something special every time he saw her.

Naturally, he would think of that summer night, that night. The moment the two of them had nearly kissed—sometimes Yang Ce even shared Zhao Ying's thoughts.

If only he had been a little more forward back then, a little more forceful—would Zhao Ying have become his first woman? Or the second, after Lin Yanhe?

Or rather, truly the first woman in the real sense.

But what's past is past. Yang Ce could hardly read Zhao Ying's mind anymore. To her, he was now like a close friend, an older sister—her gaze held nothing else, and it kept Yang Yongjin from daring to take another step.

Sharing a bed with Yan, Zhao Ying's heart was likewise tense and thrilled. How could sleep come so easily? Though she looked calm on the surface, eyes closed as if fast asleep, inside she was in violent turmoil.

Yang Ce and Chen Shutang hadn't done that yet, had they? Zhao Ying hesitated—Yang Ce wouldn't lie to her about such a thing. When he had come clean about Lan Ling, he had told her everything straight. Which meant that if she were to be with Yan first, wouldn't she have the advantage over Chen Shutang?

At that thought, Zhao Ying's heart stirred restlessly. Tonight might be a good opportunity—though it might also cost her dearly. She could only gamble on whose bond with Yang Minlan ran deeper, hers or Chen Shutang's. Zhao Ying couldn't be sure, but she preferred to believe that Yang Ce loved Chen Shutang more. How to put it? It seemed a little contradictory, but she truly did not want Yang Ce to be fickle.

So in an instant, Zhao Ying made up her mind. If she really did something with Yan now, it would be a terrible betrayal of Chen Shutang, who regarded her as an older sister and told her all her worries—and for her to scheme against her in return was something Zhao Ying could never bring herself to do, nor did she want to.

And so the two, who secretly admired each other, could only pretend to be indifferent and lie obediently in bed. Fortunately, drowsiness finally won out; by the time they woke again, it was already half past ten in the morning.

Both were startled awake by a burst of firecrackers—during the New Year there was no shortage of anything except the sound of firecrackers. Yang Ce rubbed his eyes and sat up, glanced at Zhao Ying beside him, and saw that she had opened her eyes too.

"Awake, are you?" Yang Hengye said. "How did you sleep?"

"Not too bad," Zhao Ying said with a grimace. "I'm probably not used to the beds in this hotel. My neck and shoulders ache a bit."

"How about we skip the temple fair and I take you home?" Yang Ce asked with concern.

"No way, I'm going," Zhao Ying said, shaking her head again and again. "I went through all that trouble flying back in the middle of the night—wasn't it just to get to the temple fair? Otherwise I could have come back this afternoon and been much better off."

"Then let me give you a massage," Yang Hengye said with a smile, reaching out to knead Zhao Ying's shoulders. He truly had no other thought in mind—when Fang Tian had trained him, he had taught him many massage techniques.

Because on missions there were bound to be bruises or other mishaps, and learning self-massage could solve quite a few problems.

Zhao Ying, however, was flushed red by Yang Ce's touch. Still, seeing the earnest look on his face, she did not refuse. And the places Yang Ce pressed really did feel wonderful—so he really was giving her a massage, not trying to take advantage of her.

Actually, even if he had, Zhao Ying wouldn't have said anything. At most she would have thought him a little dishonest, but she couldn't be bothered to scold him—because his shadow had long since taken root in her heart.

Under Yang Cenbin's massage, the soreness in Zhao Ying's shoulders and neck eased considerably, and she could not help exclaiming, "Yang Ce, you really know how to massage?"

"What else did you think I was doing?" Yang Xutang was at a loss for words at Zhao Ying's remark. "I don't think I look like a swindler."

"Heh heh," Zhao Ying chuckled. "I'm much better now, it's fine. Let's get going. By the way, it's past ten already—can we still make it to the temple fair?"

"Of course we can. The temple fair runs all day with people." Yang Hengye reached out his hand to Zhao Ying, wanting to pull her up. But in that instant he caught himself—the person in bed now was Zhao Ying, not Chen Shutang.

Just now, while massaging Zhao Ying, that almost intimate gesture had instantly closed the distance between them, and in his subconscious Yang Ce had taken Zhao Ying for someone close to him—hence the scene just now.

Seeing Yang Juehuan's embarrassment, Zhao Ying smiled. "No need to pull me up—I can get up myself."

"Heh heh," Yang Ce gave a dry laugh.

Meanwhile, Wang Jinde was rather baffled by Yang Ce's anger the day before. He thought it over left and right without understanding why, so early the next morning he went to ask Hou Lin for advice.

After hearing him out, Hou Lin gave Wang Jinde a thorough dressing-down, scolding him for acting on his own initiative. The person Yang Ce was picking up might well have been a relative or a good friend—what was the meaning of pulling a stunt like that?