"Dr. Ye, are you a second..."
After tidying up, Song Guanyu went downstairs sporting a hairstyle she was satisfied with. Ye Yansheng followed behind her. Due to the height difference, he could see the top of her head as he walked behind her.
Her skull was beautifully shaped—the kind you could use as a specimen for display. Her head was round, the overall curve from the top to the back of her head nearly flawless, with a smooth contour. There were a few stray hairs stuck to her nape. He resolved to fix that for her next time. His gaze drifted lower, following the prominent vertebrae of her spine down, one by one, until they disappeared beneath her dress, stopping at the exposed area of her back and then vanishing.
Ye Yansheng closed his eyes briefly, forcing himself to look away. The stark whiteness of her skin in his mind was truly glaring.
Song Guanyu took a pair of plain white sneakers from the shoe cabinet by the entrance—youthful and bright. She sat down on the shoe-changing stool beside it, intending to put them on. But then Ye Yansheng, who had been following her, suddenly knelt on one knee before her, startling her.
She hurriedly exclaimed, "Dr. Ye, what are you doing?"
"Helping you put on your shoes. Sit still and don't move."
Ye Yansheng's skin was a cool pale white. His large, calloused palm directly enveloped her foot, easily fitting it in his grasp.
The moment his hand touched her, Song Guanyu shivered. It was the height of summer, yet his hand was so cold. But soon, her attention was drawn to his movements. The man knelt before her, gentle and careful, lowering his head and brows, handling her foot with tender delicacy, as if afraid to hurt her.
Ye Yansheng's fingers were nimble and strong. He quickly loosened the laces, widened the shoe opening, held her ankle with one hand, and guided her toes into the shoe with the other. It slid in smoothly. After meticulously putting it on, he gradually tightened the laces and finally tied a neat bow.
Feeling light as a feather, Song Guanyu basked in this perfect treatment. Then, as if a wire got crossed in her brain, she suddenly blurted out the question she had wanted to ask since they got their marriage certificate.
"Dr. Ye, are you on your second marriage?"
As he was tying the laces on her other foot, the man who had been keeping his head down suddenly looked up.
"I've only married you. This is my first time."
Song Guanyu persisted: "You were very smooth when you took me through the marriage registration process. You're also very skilled at putting on my shoes and tying the laces. And you can cook. Did your ex-wife teach you all this?"
He placed her slippers neatly into the shoe cabinet before meeting her puzzled gaze. She shrank back slightly under his stare. Actually, she wouldn't have minded even if he were on his second marriage—it would have been quite convenient. After all, Ye Yansheng was very competent. She wondered why his ex-wife had left him.
Ye Yansheng looked at her for a long time, then let out a low laugh.
Why had he taken her to the civil affairs bureau so quickly? Maybe she had influenced him, making him absent-minded too. He was starting to regret it a bit. His little wife seemed a bit dazed, and the questions she asked were confusing.
He had no choice but to explain, answering each point: "You can look up the marriage registration process online. I like to plan everything in advance. Putting on shoes and tying laces are basic life skills I've always had. And cooking is a talent—there's nothing I can do about that, Miss Song."
She listened, stunned. Tilting her head back, she blinked at him as he stood up. "Anything else you want to know? We can discuss it tonight, okay? If we dawdle any longer, both of us will be late."
Suddenly, a mischievous streak seemed to surface. He curled his lips and said, "Even if I really were on my second marriage, you're already on this pirate ship now, Miss Song."
Her behavior made him worry she might get taken advantage of. Not everyone was as good as him. He would have to keep a closer eye on her in the future.
Song Guanyu was at a loss for words. It seemed true. Even though they hadn't yet consummated their marriage, she would have to face divorce without even gaining inspiration, losing out on both ends—end up divorced without any inspiration but with the label of a second marriage.
"I'm sorry, Dr. Ye." Her tone was sincere; she knew she was wrong.
Ye Yansheng squinted, his eyes deep and dark. "It's okay. We still have plenty of time to 'get to know' each other."
After speaking, she watched him go to the kitchen to wash his hands. He came out shortly, dried them with a paper towel, and picked up the car keys.
"Let's go. I'll drop you off at your workplace."
As he pushed the door to leave, Ye Yansheng felt his sleeve being tugged. He turned to see her cheeks flushed red like a ripe fruit, staring at him without a word.
Meeting her gaze, he frowned. "What's wrong?"
She bit her lower lip and shook her head. Wasn't the husband supposed to kiss his wife before leaving? Why wasn't Ye Yansheng doing it? So she had no choice but to use this clumsy method to hold him back. He should understand, right? Because she would never be able to say, "Can you kiss me?"
Her grip on his sleeve was firm, her lashes fluttering slightly. With the strange blush on her cheeks, Ye Yansheng froze for a second but quickly caught on. He turned back, crouched before her, and looked at her.
Her eyes began to dart away. He had guessed correctly again. It was perfectly normal for a wife to ask her husband for a kiss. So he slowly leaned in.
His face drew closer. Within his field of vision, he could clearly see the fine fuzz on Song Guanyu's face. Particles of dust in the air began to float. The lingering scent of pumpkin from her lips and teeth swirled around, sweet and fragrant, making Ye Yansheng's spine tense and his breathing become gentle. Their breaths were about to intertwine.
His eyelids half-lowered. The distance shrank from two inches to one, then from one inch to half an inch. Before him were her full, pink lips, tempting him to pick them. Waiting for him, Ye Yansheng's Adam's apple moved.
Such closeness made them both unconsciously swallow. Song Guanyu's eyelashes fluttered wildly, and she tightly shut her eyes, waiting for the kiss.
Suddenly, she felt a warmth on her forehead, soft and fleeting, like a mosquito's light nibble that was gone before any pain could register. A numbing sensation remained on the skin of her forehead.
She opened her eyes abruptly to see Ye Yansheng already waiting outside the door, his hands resting on his hips, his back to her.
Song Guanyu: "..."
With her excellent eyesight, she could see his ears were slightly red.
In the end, Ye Yansheng didn't get to take her. He received an urgent call and had to rush to the hospital. She hadn't planned on him taking her anyway; she had been driving for years and was quite skilled. She could drive herself. Though his intention to take her was nice—it would have given them more time together—their directions were opposite. Given the round trip, by the time he turned back to his workplace, it would be rush hour and traffic would be terrible.
See! She was so considerate! A model wife!
Before leaving, Ye Yansheng reminded her to drive carefully, not to speed, but to focus on stability. Safety was the most important thing.
Standing in front of him, her head level with his chest, Song Guanyu nodded repeatedly like a little chick, murmuring, "Okay, okay, got it." As he turned to leave, she muttered under her breath, "Why is the old man so naggy?"
Whether it was an illusion, she thought his back stiffened for a moment, but it passed quickly, as if she had imagined it.
She dismissed the thought.
The drive was smooth, no traffic jams. She arrived safely at Senior Brother Bai's recording studio.
The studio was located in the western suburbs. As she drove into the garage, she took in the scenery outside the window and couldn't help but admire how well Senior Brother Bai had chosen the location.
It was far from the city's hustle and bustle. The surrounding woods were lush and verdant. The lawn was trimmed by gardeners into a neat, undulating pattern. In the distance, a rose garden was in full bloom, the artificially cultivated roses splendid and beautiful. An artificial fountain sprayed splashing water, some of it spilling over.
At that moment, the lawn sprinkler system turned on one by one. Water droplets adorned the rose petals, then fell back into the soil by gravity.
The sunlight slanted down from the sky, making the small garden glow and shimmer, full of vitality. No noisy car horns, no chattering crowds. This place was perfect for recording songs.