Under the Cheongsam Skirt - Chapter 7

The next day at ten o’clock, Zhao Ciqin woke up and saw Xu Xing sitting cross-legged on a chair beside her.

He was already neatly dressed, even his shirt cuffs were meticulously buttoned. Noticing her gaze, he put down the documents in his hand and asked, “Awake?”

He stood up and walked over, placing the back of his hand against her forehead. “Are you feeling unwell? If not, let’s have breakfast first. I’ll go heat up some porridge for you.”

“…”

Zhao Ciqin tried to speak but realized her voice was a bit hoarse. “Why haven’t you gone to work yet?”

Xu Xing chuckled softly. “There’s not much going on at work today, so it’s fine if I’m a bit late. Besides,” he leaned down and kissed the corner of her lips, “how could I leave you alone at home?”

Zhao Ciqin instinctively touched the corner of her lips. “It’s not like I can’t be alone…”

Xu Xing’s eyes were filled with amusement. “Hmm, then how about considering giving me the honor of letting you move in with me?”
Was this… a proposal to live together?

Zhao Ciqin’s eyes widened slightly. She hadn’t expected things to progress this far.

“I…”

“No need to answer right away,” Xu Xing pressed two fingers against her lips. “I am eager, but I don’t want to pressure you, Ciqin. Although we met late, we still have decades ahead of us. Some things can take their time.”

He paused.

Then, Zhao Ciqin watched as the usually composed and handsome lawyer swallowed hard, his thumb brushing against her cheek, his breath softly brushing her ear. “Just… don’t make me go slow in bed.”

“Come on, go freshen up first. The clothes are what I bought from the store this morning. They haven’t been ironed yet, so make do for now.”

The ever-proper Lawyer Xu returned to his usual demeanor. He handed her a bag and thoughtfully left her some space to change. He then walked into the kitchen, rolled up his sleeves, and skillfully turned on the stove to warm the porridge. He also served some braised beef and peeled a boiled egg to garnish the dish.

After breakfast, Xu Xing went to his law firm, and Zhao Ciqin returned to her art gallery.

The gallery was a gift from her father a year ago when she got divorced. Most of the time, not many people came to buy paintings, so it often felt more like her private studio. She only employed one staff member, Qin Anmei, who handled cleaning and reception duties.

Qin Anmei was from the countryside, around fifteen or sixteen years old. When she first arrived, she liked to tie her hair into two thick braids. Later, after seeing Zhao Ciqin’s permed and styled hair, she started styling her own hair into buns.

When Qin Anmei saw Zhao Ciqin arrive, she put down her broom with a sparkle in her eyes. “Sister Ciqin, you look so radiant today.”

“Really?” Zhao Ciqin touched her cheek.

When she had left the house earlier, she had felt a bit self-conscious, worried that her lips were too red or her eyes were swollen from crying. It was only after Xu Xing repeatedly reassured her that she felt at ease.

Now, hearing Qin Anmei’s comment, her heart unconsciously tightened again.

“Really!” Qin Anmei nodded. “That saying… ‘skin as smooth as congealed fat’—it must be describing someone like you! Did you have a good dream last night?”

Under Qin Anmei’s innocent gaze, Zhao Ciqin suddenly found herself at a loss for words.

A good dream? Not exactly. Could she say that she had been made to cry by a man? That she had even begged him for mercy, saying things she could hardly bring herself to repeat, only to be met with his deep, relentless thrusts?

Fortunately, Qin Anmei didn’t press further. She quickly changed the subject. “By the way, Sister Ciqin, someone came looking for you yesterday.”

Zhao Ciqin looked up. “Do you know who it was?”

Qin Anmei shook her head.

She said, “I didn’t recognize him. He was a tall, burly man, seemed a bit unapproachable, and had a gloomy air about him. When I told him you weren’t here, he bought a painting—the most expensive one we have, ‘Spring Banquet.'”