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What did it matter if he slept well or not? What could he tell her, and what could she change?
So annoying.
Annoyance on top of annoyance.
But since he'd spoken, she supposed she ought to show some concern. Having grown up under his watch, Cheng Buxi at least knew how to be dutifully ingratiating.
Her mind went blank for a moment, then she wrinkled her nose and asked solicitously, "Brother, have you been under too much work pressure? ...Em, or are you feeling unwell somewhere?"
In her limited scope of reasoning, those were the only two causes she could come up with.
It couldn't be because she refused to go with him to Huadong... even saying that out loud would be laughable—totally unrelated.
"..." Her brother was about to explain, but then stopped, the words dying on his lips.
Because his sister's attention had been snatched away by her phone. Lu Tingzhou's gaze tightened, a faint twitch at his brow.
To put it bluntly, two-thirds of her heart was hanging on Ning Ci, and the remaining third was split evenly—half for her brother, half for the suit fabrics.
To be fair, North City had plenty of respectable custom tailors, many with centuries of history. This one was obscure, yet the fabrics were surprisingly high quality and varied, dazzling her. They even had Loro Piana's exclusive woven labels—only ten in the world. She was both delighted and astonished. Compared to her overbearing brother, her interest clearly tilted toward the fabrics.
Her phone suddenly vibrated. Thinking it was Ning Ci replying, she didn't bother to flatter her brother and immediately tapped open the message.
But it wasn't Ning Ci. Disappointed, she closed it again.
When she looked up again, she met a deep, emotionless gaze—like peering into a desolate, cold well, or a misty, uninhabited mountain forest. Her throat tightened. "Brother, what did you just say?"
Whenever she was nervous, she sped up her speech, licked her lower lip, and fussed with her hair. The silent room seemed to echo only her own clear, erratic heartbeat—thump, thump, thump.
She realized she'd been distracted. That wasn't good.
Lu Tingzhou watched her every move. She was very different from her usual self.
Whose message was so important that she was this anxious, afraid of missing even a second?
Could it be some new boy she'd met?
A boy... a boy...
A boy...
Boy...
Dark thoughts sprouted from the depths of his heart, threatening to grow wildly.
"Who are you chatting with?" His tone was calm, but his expression was far from pleasant. Tiny storm-like whirlpools churned in his eyes.
Perhaps having long been immersed in the treacherous business world, he was now even more imposing and severe than before—once handsome and gentle, now cold and stern. Just the act of his gaze bore down on her like a tidal wave of pressure.
Cheng Buxi: "..." She couldn't help but press her lips together.
So aggrieved.
So irritated.
Why did he have to interrogate her like she was a criminal?
Couldn't she have her own friends? She wasn't a clueless child anymore, unable to judge character.
She was grown up. She knew right from wrong.
How could he be like this!
The display rack made of precious tribute wood was warm and delicate, with a faint, pleasant natural woody aroma lingering in the linen-and-cotton-clad room.
Wood, linen, velvet—these things were supposed to provide comfort and coziness, but right now, they failed utterly.
Anxiety and boredom filled her nose and mouth.
She stood quietly and docilely at the side, her fingertips sparingly stroking expensive fabrics like silk and flannel on the rack. Many were limited editions, with total global annual production of just a few kilograms.
Watching her from not too far away, she looked meek and submissive, devoid of edges—but her eyes were ice-clear.
She gave off a feeling... like the winter sun: bright, but with no warmth.
Lu Tingzhou raised an eyebrow slightly.
To put it bluntly, her mind wasn't here at all, let alone on her brother. The thought struck him abruptly, and he felt an emptiness in his chest.
Where had her heart gone? Did she... dislike him?
After a long pause, "...A friend," Cheng Buxi forced herself to answer. Her tone was flat, even a little defiant.
"What friend?"
"..." Did he have to dig so deep? The last bit of her forced composure faded away completely. She took a deep breath. "A friend I stood up."
"..." Lu Tingzhou fell silent for a moment, as if understanding something. His expression softened. "You were planning to go out?"
So that was why she had dressed up so meticulously, just like that night.
She nodded, too lazy to explain further. She reached for the nearest knitted fabric on the rack—an extravagant Paisley pattern in a dazzling gold. She decided on that one.
She didn't care if her brother liked it or not. If he didn't, he could choose something else. She just wanted to finish quickly and leave.
She handed the fabric to the tailor and asked about suitable styles for the suit—notch lapel or shawl lapel? Her brother's wardrobe already had too many peak lapels. Flap pockets or slant pockets? Maybe welt pockets, since the fabric seemed rather bold and casual. A single button at the cuff, double vents... she completely ignored her brother.