Chapter 104: Chapter 104

Topics between Shen Jianian and Zhu Yilan stopped here, and did not continue.

Zhu Yilan set down her teacup, picked up her coat and handbag and stood up, taking the folder Fu Jichen held in his hand, put it in her bag, and prepared to take her leave.

Shen Jianian said, "Have a bowl of tangyuan before you go, it was freshly made this afternoon."

Just as Zhu Yilan was about to politely refuse, Fu Jichen rarely spoke to her in a gentle tone, "Later let Qu Mo take you back."

Zhu Yilan was slightly taken aback, since her boss had spoken, she could hardly refuse, so she placed her bag and coat back on the sofa and nodded with a smile, "Then I’ll trouble you."

Cheng Jin brought out three steaming bowls of tangyuan, the heat wafting off them, and in the bowls, the tangyuan varied in size and shape, some were perfectly round and smooth.

The good-looking ones were made by Cheng Jin, whereas the less appealing ones, needless to say, were the creations of the novice Shen Jianian.

Even Shen Jianian was a bit embarrassed upon seeing them, with a shy smile curving her lips, "I’m not very good at making them." The glutinous rice dough was sticky, and though she tried hard to knead it, it still looked bad.

Zhu Yilan was not disdainful, she scooped one up with a spoon and took a bite, the sesame filling oozing out, with a hint of peanut aroma, "The taste is quite good."

Shen Jianian smiled bashfully, of course, it tasted good, the filling was made by Cheng Jin.

Fu Jichen looked at his bowl; presumably all the tangyuan in it were made by Shen Jianian, not one looked pleasing, "Are you sure these are tangyuan? They look like soup pancakes to me."

Zhu Yilan almost couldn’t hold back her laughter in front of her boss, but fortunately, her professional conduct was high, and she managed to suppress it.

Shen Jianian took his bowl away grumpily, saying, "Don’t eat it, you don’t like sweets anyway."

Fu Jichen raised an eyebrow, not arguing with her, wasn’t there still one bowl left?

He picked it up, tried one, and it was indeed surprisingly cloying. He said nothing, finished the seven or eight tangyuan in the bowl, thinking that he probably shouldn’t eat dinner.

As expected, he didn’t have dinner and directly went to work in the study.

Tomorrow he would take up his position at the Group’s headquarters, having been absent for a while, and still had some preparations to complete.

A stack of documents piled up beside him like a small mountain, he planned to finish reviewing all of them before dawn. However, after flipping through just one, he lost patience and his thoughts wandered to other places.

The elegantly decorated study, with the floor lamp emitting a warm yellow glow, not as bright as the desk lamp.

Fu Jichen picked up his tea, took a sip, his gaze drifting to the left.

If his view could penetrate the walls, he was rather curious to see what Shen Jianian was doing.

Following his heart’s desire, Fu Jichen decisively set down his teacup, pressed one hand on the edge of the desk, got up, walked out, and knocked on Shen Jianian’s door.

She opened the door, her weary expression not yet concealed, in full view of Fu Jichen, he hesitated, his gaze moving past her into the room behind, "What are you doing?"

Shen Jianian did not answer, Fu Jichen bypassed her, entered, and saw the cello placed by the window, already taken out of its case, the bow resting on a stool.

"Getting ready to play?" Fu Jichen asked with interest.

Shen Jianian closed the door, denying verbally, "No, just took it out to have a look."

Actually, he was right; before he knocked and entered, she took out the cello, adjusted the strings, prepared to play a piece, suddenly thinking of him working in the study, she paused her intention.

Zhu Yilan’s words had influenced her somewhat.

If she could disregard everything and make her own choices, what she loved most was still the cello.

She sometimes envied Zhu Yilan, knowing exactly what she wanted, forever courageous, clear-headed, and positively progressing towards her goal.

"It seems like you haven’t played cello for a while. There’s a moon tonight, the mood is right, how about trying it?"

Fu Jichen placed a hand on her shoulder, pushing her towards the cello, then walked to her opposite side, leaning against the window, slightly raising his chin, indicating she could begin.

The last time he saw her play the cello was at Rose Manor, after she had just showered, wearing a slip pink nightdress, sitting by the window, with the clear moonlight pouring through the window, casting on her, making her look like an ethereal fairy.

Her cello skills were exquisite, to Fu Jichen, that scene was a visual and auditory feast.

Under his encouraging gaze, Shen Jianian picked up the bow, sat on the stool, took a deep breath, propped the cello standing by the window upright, softly positioned it before her, the head placed on her left shoulder, her hand pressing on the strings.

This time she played ’Tears of Jacqueline’.

A piece she practiced many times, needing no sheet music, Shen Jianian could play it fluently even with closed eyes.

Rather than calling it a performance, it was more an emotional release.

Fu Jichen quietly appreciated it, his mood following the rise and fall of the melody, until the piece ended, the air went silent for a moment, and he came back to his senses, with eyes seemingly burning passionately.

"Do you want to continue playing the cello?" Fu Jichen asked her seriously.

Shen Jianian lowered her eyelashes, lovingly packed the cello away, paused in thought, and said something unrelated, "I am sleepy, want to sleep."

She had already showered, and after placing the cello properly, she lay in bed, her back facing Fu Jichen.

After a while, Fu Jichen lay down beside her; her mind still echoed with the question he had just asked, do you want to continue playing the cello?

Life is never about wanting, but whether you can.

Shen Jianian was pulled into his embrace, her back pressing against a warm chest, fitting so closely as if a lost rib had been found and returned to its place.

She didn’t know when it started, she no longer rejected this kind of intimacy, even finding herself wanting to rely on it during moments of sadness or depression...

They hadn’t seen each other for three days, Fu Jichen had a desire for her; the body’s response was real and intense, but he did nothing but turned off the lights, holding her tightly in the darkness.

After a long while, steady and gentle breathing emanated from his arms, Fu Jichen opened his eyes, slowly released his embrace, lifted the quilt and got out of bed.

Turned on a desk lamp, the luxuriant and refined room was enveloped in a soft yellow light.

Fu Jichen picked up his cigarette box and lighter, strolled to the place not long ago where Shen Jianian played, lifted the corner of the curtain, gazed at the tranquil night view through the window glass.

After an entire cigarette, Fu Jichen picked up his phone, called Song Fang, his voice low and smooth, not waking the person sleeping soundly on the large bed behind him, "Check Yan Qiusheng’s whereabouts... Yes, the world-renowned cellist."