Chapter 2: Jealousy
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Qu Bo returned home from work and saw Song Mingyu sitting on the living room sofa from afar. Chen Su, dressed in a white dress, sat obediently beside him. Although it was a perfectly matched scene, he found it glaringly unbearable, as if something that belonged to him was being touched by someone else.
“Bo, you’re back?” Mrs. Qu came out from the kitchen, placing the dishes on the table. “Just in time, Mingyu is here today too, come join us for dinner!”
Qu Bo nodded softly, his gaze casually falling on the pile of gift boxes stacked on the coffee table.
“Where did these come from?”
“I brought them.”
Song Mingyu was about to explain the matter of the proposal, but Chen Su tugged on his sleeve, “Mingyu, let’s eat first, I’m a bit hungry.”
She pulled Song Mingyu to sit at the dining table.
At the table, Song Mingyu was like a worm in Yan Huan’s stomach—whenever she needed something, he would quickly hand it over: a tissue, a cup of water.
Chen Su glanced at Qu Bo from the corner of her eye and noticed he was his usual restrained, refined, and austere self, cool and godlike, showing no trace of emotion.
Feeling stifled and about to put down her chopsticks to leave, Mrs. Qu suddenly spoke.
“Mingyu, it’s clear you truly like our Su,” Mrs. Qu, who had been the lady of the Qu household for twenty years, knew Chen Su’s feelings well and spoke with intent, “but you’re both still too young. Marriage is a big matter that should involve both parents. Coming alone to propose isn’t quite proper. How about this?”
“I’ll talk to your father and see if we can get your engagement settled first.”
Qu Bo’s hand paused mid-dish, a faint, barely noticeable dark glint flashing in his eyes.
Song Mingyu looked at Chen Su and excitedly grabbed her hand. “No problem! Aunt Qu, don’t worry! I’ll definitely treat Su well!”
Youthful passion, when it comes to the girl they love, is utterly transparent.
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Mrs. Qu was very pleased and just remembered to ask Chen Su.
“Su, what do you think?”
Chen Su was always obedient in front of Mrs. Qu, and with Qu Bo present, she smiled sweetly and innocently. “I’m fine with it. As long as I’m with Mingyu, I’ll be happy doing anything.”
She looked at Qu Bo, eyes full of hope. “Brother, what do you think?”
Qu Bo stared at Chen Su and Song Mingyu’s intertwined hands and found it unbearable.
Just as he was about to speak, his phone on the table suddenly vibrated.
He glanced at it.
From Chen Su’s perspective, she could just see the caller ID on Qu Bo’s phone.
Shen Zhiwei.
Qu Bo’s secret, unattainable white moonlight.
“Your own marriage is your decision; as long as you don’t regret it, that’s fine.” Before Chen Su could feel disappointed, Qu Bo picked up his phone and stood up. “I’m done eating. I’m going out to pick someone up. You all take your time.”
He answered the phone while walking out. “Just landed? I’m driving to pick you up now.”
At the door, he suddenly stopped.
He glanced at Chen Su. “Marriage isn’t child’s play. If the man you marry in the future doesn’t even know you’re allergic to cilantro, then that marriage, even if it happens, will end in divorce.”
With that, Qu Bo turned and left.
Song Mingyu was filled with shame. “Su, you’re allergic to cilantro? I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”
“A little, not very serious.”
Chen Su smiled obediently, but the fire smoldering inside her flickered uncertainly.
To the outside world, Qu Bo appeared noble and godlike, seemingly indifferent to everything. Yet privately, he remembered all her preferences and dislikes, and through countless dark moments, he was always by her side.
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From her first menstruation to choosing her university.
This man could die for her, yet he would never love her.
Suddenly, Chen Su felt a surge of jealousy—jealousy of Shen Zhiwei, who had been abroad for four years and seemed to win Qu Bo’s heart effortlessly.
While she was merely his nominal sister, secretly sharing the same bed with him.
Yet, only as his bed companion.
She put down her chopsticks. “Mom, I’m done eating. I want to go to the mall to buy some things.”
“Mingyu, you come with me.”
Before Song Mingyu could answer, Chen Su pulled him along.
Standing by the car, Chen Su uncharacteristically grabbed Song Mingyu’s sleeve. “Mingyu, how about I drive? I haven’t driven in a long time. After graduation, I want to go on a road trip with friends. With you here, I can practice a bit.”
Song Mingyu trusted her completely and handed her the car keys. “Of course.”
Chen Su took the keys and drove steadily all the way.
Until the car stopped at the airport.
From about seventy or eighty meters away, she saw Shen Zhiwei and the black red-flag state car parked in front of her.
That was Qu Bo’s car, with a license plate of six eights.
Chen Su clenched the steering wheel tightly, her gaze fixed on Shen Zhiwei about to get into the car. Her heart darkened beyond measure. Without a moment’s hesitation, she pressed hard on the accelerator.
“Bang—”