The Art of Teasing - Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Wen Zhengyu snapped back to attention, only then realizing that Ye Ling's single mention of "roast chicken" had sent her thoughts spiraling rather far afield. She also noticed that it was already lunchtime—Sun Yuan would be arriving with lunch any moment. Besides, with Ye Ling there as a distraction, she couldn't focus on painting anyway. She cleaned her brushes, packed up her painting tools, and prepared for the midday break.

Once Wen Zhengyu had finished tidying up, Ye Ling said, "Zhengyu hasn't eaten yet, has she? Let me treat you to lunch. I wonder whether Zhengyu would do me the honor?"

Wen Zhengyu gestured through the glass door toward the outside and said, "Aunt Sun is bringing my lunch."

With a hint of regret, Ye Ling replied, "Another time, then." She asked Wen Zhengyu, "Do you happen to know if there are any home-style cooking restaurants near here?"

Wen Zhengyu thought for a moment.

Home-style cooking? The restaurants along the lake all specialized in various regional cuisines—there really weren't any home-style places. Not only were there no home-style restaurants nearby, there weren't even any simple diners. There was a snack street and some small eateries not far from here, but those weren't really suitable for someone of Ye Ling's status. There were several specialty restaurants, but they weren't well-suited for dining alone.

She said, "It seems... there really aren't any."

Sun Yuan tapped lightly on the glass door. Once she saw Wen Zhengyu and Ye Ling turn to look at her, she said apologetically, "Forgive the intrusion." She addressed Wen Zhengyu: "Miss, lunch has been delivered to your office. Shall you dine now?"

Wen Zhengyu replied, "I still have a guest. Later."

Sun Yuan answered, "Very well."

Ye Ling smiled and said, "How could I bear to delay your meal? Why don't we eat together? You don't mind me scrounging a meal, do you?"

Wen Zhengyu: "..." She froze for a moment before catching herself. I do mind, she thought. But these words she could only say in her head. Ye Ling was, after all, a business partner. She'd already declined to go out to eat with her; to refuse her again when she came to share lunch would truly reflect poorly. Wen Zhengyu said, "So long as CEO Ye doesn't mind the simplicity of home cooking..." She immediately wanted to bite off her own tongue—Ye Ling had just said she wanted home-style food.

Ye Ling instantly beamed like a spring breeze, saying, "Zhengyu truly is someone who understands my heart."

Wen Zhengyu had long since stopped wanting to comment on Ye Ling's ability to tell bald-faced lies with a straight face and her skin thicker than a city wall's corner. She made an inviting gesture and ushered Ye Ling to her office to eat.

Her lunch consisted of two dishes and a soup.

Her grandfather and grandmother had both been people who paid considerable attention to health maintenance, quite particular about diet and wellness. The family's meals were mostly prepared according to handed-down recipes or medicinal diet formulas. The old formulas didn't use modern-day food additives, seasonings, and the like to enhance flavor; to bring out the taste, you had to simmer the ingredients over low heat for a long time, which was relatively time-consuming and labor-intensive. With few people in the household now, preparing four servings daily was generally sufficient. At midday, her grandfather and Zhan Cheng were both out, so Sun Yuan only needed to prepare lunch for the two of them. Sun Yuan ate her own meal at around eleven and, when it was almost noon, rode her electric scooter along the lake embankment road—about seven or eight minutes—to arrive at the studio.

Two dishes, one soup, plus a bowl of rice—that was plenty.

Wen Zhengyu had been spending all her time at the studio lately. Sun Yuan was probably worried she might be hungry or that it wouldn't be enough, so each delivery always included an extra half-bowl or so of rice.

Wen Zhengyu had never imagined she would end up sharing her lunch with someone else in her own office, so she kept no spare chopsticks or bowls there. With this last-minute freeloader added, she could only send Sun Yuan to retrieve disposable utensils from beside the microwave in the break room.

Though the studio wasn't large, HR, finance, plus the ground-floor staff added up to a dozen or so people, all of whom handled their lunch at the studio. Sometimes they brought boxed meals and simply heated them in the break room microwave; other times they ordered delivery. Since some people kept their own utensils and didn't need the disposable ones that came with takeout, and throwing them away felt wasteful, they stashed the unopened disposable sets in the drawer beneath the microwave stand for future use.

Wen Zhengyu didn't want to let Ye Ling use her own bowl and chopsticks, so she gave Ye Ling a pair of disposable chopsticks and handed over her bowl, while she herself used the lid of the insulated food container that had held the rice as a makeshift bowl. The soup crock wasn't large—less than two bowls' worth. She ladled out half a bowl of soup for Ye Ling and drank directly from the crock herself.

Once she had portioned out the food, Wen Zhengyu silently lowered her head and ate. She genuinely felt that Ye Ling hadn't come to share a meal—she'd come to steal it.

Perhaps stolen food tastes better, because Ye Ling picked every last grain of rice from her bowl clean and drained the soup down to the last drop. The two modestly portioned dishes, through her and Ye Ling's joint efforts, had been reduced to just the sauce at the bottom. One dish, with its rich, flavorful sauce, was even taken by Ye Ling to drench over her rice.

Ye Ling set down her bowl and chopsticks with deep satisfaction and said to Wen Zhengyu, "It's been a long time since I've had such delicious home cooking."

Wen Zhengyu replied in a tone so even that not a trace of emotion could be detected: "I'm glad CEO Ye enjoyed it."

Ye Ling said, "I enjoyed it very much."

Wen Zhengyu felt she'd developed an illness of being unable to bear hearing Ye Ling say "I enjoyed it very much"—every time those words were spoken, she felt uneasy all over. She rose, had Sun Yuan, who had been resting on the side reception sofa, come over and clear the dishes from the tea table, then got up to make tea herself.

She hadn't eaten her fill; drinking some tea to fill her stomach would do.

Though Ye Ling had only eaten until half-full, she felt thoroughly content. She drank her tea at leisure, watching Wen Zhengyu, who sat upright beside the tea table, preparing the brew. Wen Zhengyu possessed a distinctive temperament nourished by the misty rains of Jiangnan—warm, classic, and refined. She had the poised serenity of a well-bred young lady, combined with the untrammeled ease of a literatus.

Wen Zhengyu's features were delicate and well-defined, each part exuding a precision as though carved and polished. Most of the time, her expression and gaze held the tranquil contentment of distant mountains. Looking at her gave one a sense of having left behind the clamor of the mundane world, set apart from the ordinary, like a placid landscape painting of mist and water—which always stirred in Ye Ling a desire to toss a pebble and shatter that calm.

Wen Zhengyu's tea was excellent.

Fine tea was not something Ye Ling lacked.

But splendid tea leaves could only be brewed into truly splendid tea in the hands of someone who knew how to brew it.

Ye Ling rather enjoyed nestling into Wen Zhengyu's space. Even without saying a word, without doing anything, simply watching Wen Zhengyu prepare tea was a kind of pleasure and relaxation.

Before she knew it, the lunch break had slipped past.

Ye Ling had an afternoon appointment to discuss matters. She checked the time, only then reluctantly setting down her teacup and rising to take her leave.

Wen Zhengyu stood to see Ye Ling to the office door.

After stepping out of Wen Zhengyu's office, Ye Ling paused and turned her head to say, "No need to see me further. Between us, such formality isn't necessary."

Wen Zhengyu: "..." I only intended to see you to here, she thought. In truth, she wanted to close the door and shut Ye Ling on the other side. She said aloud, "Safe travels, CEO Ye."

Ye Ling nodded slightly and then turned to leave.

Wen Zhengyu breathed a quiet sigh of relief. To save on payroll, she hadn't even hired an assistant; she tidied and maintained her office herself. After seeing Ye Ling off, she returned, cleared away the tea set, and only then went to the painting studio to continue her work.

When she stepped up to the painting table, she noticed that beneath her paperweight was another slip of paper. The handwriting flew like dragons and danced like phoenixes, the strokes cutting through the paper with force. It read: "Zhengyu, phoenix feathers do not burn in fire."

Wen Zhengyu: "..." Speechlessly, she stared at the small slip in her hand. A knot of frustration stuck in her throat and wouldn't release for a long while. Only after some time did she, bit by bit, tear the slip to shreds, wad it together, and toss it into the nearby trash bin.

This is a Phoenix Bird, not a Feng-Huang. Feng is male, Huang is female.

And these feathers! "When the skin is gone, where will the hair attach?"

Besides, the Phoenix Bird only lost some feathers. She didn't become a plucked phoenix... a plucked Phoenix Bird.

Wen Zhengyu's anger hadn't subsided. She cut a sheet of A5-sized paper, picked up her brush, dipped it in ink, and wrote two characters: "Meddlesome." She placed it under the same paperweight where Ye Ling had left her little note. Still seething, she looked at those two characters and thought indignantly: I'm not without a temper, you know. Then she reconsidered: why get worked up over someone like this? She steadied herself, realigned her focus, and only then picked up her brush to continue painting.

Not having eaten her fill at lunch, she was hungry by the time four in the afternoon rolled around.

Hungry, she couldn't settle her mind to paint. She kept no snacks or fruit in her office, so she had no choice but to wrap up early and play truant, heading home.

The next morning, she'd just finished handling the studio's administrative work and stepped into the painting room. She'd barely finished mixing her pigments and was preparing to paint when she heard a knock at the door. Turning her head, she saw Ye Ling appear in the doorway.

Ye Ling asked, "Zhengyu, am I disturbing you?"

Wen Zhengyu asked, "CEO Ye, is there something you need?"

Ye Ling said, "A little something. A minor matter, but it's fine—you can finish what you're doing first. I'll sit to the side and wait." As she spoke, she entered the painting room, dragged a small chair over beside the painting table, and was just about to sit when she spotted a small slip of paper pinned beneath the paperweight. She picked up the slip, examined it, then cast a glance at Wen Zhengyu.

Wen Zhengyu's face warmed slightly as she pretended she hadn't been the one to write it.

Ye Ling praised, "Fine calligraphy." She asked, "It's meant for me, isn't it?"

Wen Zhengyu's face grew warmer still. It felt like being caught in the act. Although what she'd written was the truth, sometimes speaking the truth wasn't the best thing.

Ye Ling said, "Then I shall accept it unworthily. I hadn't expected Zhengyu's painting to be excellent and her brush calligraphy to be excellent as well." She very carefully tucked away the A5-sized slip of paper.

Wen Zhengyu decided to simply ignore this line of conversation and asked, "What matter does CEO Ye have?"

Ye Ling gave an "Oh" and said, "It's like this—I noticed my office isn't equipped with a rest room."

Wen Zhengyu was dumbfounded. You have a sinecure position and barely show your face once every ten days or half a month. You need a rest room? she thought.

Ye Ling continued, "I also noticed that Zhengyu's office seems to be outfitted with a rest room."

Though Ye Ling wore an expression that said "I'm just stating a fact," perhaps due to her tone, Wen Zhengyu felt she could detect a note of grievance—and something that sounded like an accusation that Wen Zhengyu had treated her shabbily, favoring one over the other.

When they'd been fitting out the offices, she'd never planned a rest room for Ye Ling's space. Now that Ye Ling wanted to add one, they'd have to knock down a wall and bring the renovation crew back in. Never mind the cost—even after the construction was finished, how many days would Ye Ling actually use it? There was a sofa in Ye Ling's office. If she needed to rest, couldn't she just close the office door and lie on the sofa? If that wouldn't do, there was a hotel not far from the studio where she could go.

Wen Zhengyu asked, "Then how does CEO Ye wish to resolve the matter of the rest room?"

Ye Ling replied, "You're the CEO. You decide."

As CEO, I don't want to give you a rest room, Wen Zhengyu silently retorted. She suggested aloud, "There's a hotel about a ten-minute drive from here. The environment is quite nice."

Ye Ling said, "The lunch break is only two hours total, and eating takes up an hour of that. If I go to a hotel, factoring in the round-trip drive plus the time to check in and out, I'd get twenty minutes of sleep at most. That's... not very worthwhile."

Wen Zhengyu silently calculated the consequences of flinging her pigments into Ye Ling's face. Recalling Ye Ling's thick skin and her slight tendency toward being a lunatic, she felt a bit of cowardice and didn't quite dare to provoke her. So she said, "If CEO Ye needs to rest at the studio, and if you don't mind, my rest room can be lent to CEO Ye for your use." People generally paid some attention to privacy. She refused to believe Ye Ling would actually come and sleep in her bed.

The corner of Ye Ling's mouth lifted slightly as she said, full of gratitude, "Then I must thank Zhengyu for taking me in."

Wen Zhengyu: "..."

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