First, then, love.

Shu Yao gave a cold laugh.

"Hustle? That word doesn't exist in his dictionary."

She picked up her iced Americano, took another sip, as if venting her anger.

"He left yesterday morning without saying goodbye, and I haven't seen him all day today. He hasn't sent a single WeChat message. I guess he'd love for me to sleep in the guest room while he hogs the master bedroom and that huge bed, sleeping like a log."

Shu Yao felt more and more aggrieved as she spoke.

Although she felt bad about spending 2,800 yuan on a face wash, He Zheng didn't mistreat her materially.

What angered her was his cold and indifferent attitude, as if he didn't care about her feelings.

If you make her angry, don't care about anything else, don't even give her a way out, just leave her hanging.

What kind of legal couple are they? They're not even as good as roommates.

"You're just spoiled by that scumbag ex-boyfriend who provides maximum emotional value," Qiao Qiao said, hitting the nail on the head.

"Gu Jinzhi is good at coaxing people and showing concern, but what happened? He turned around and left you for his studies. He Zheng is clumsy with words and doesn't understand romance, but he really protects you. Even with your old Shu's aloof temper, He Zheng still made his parents give him plenty of face."

Qiaoqiao tapped the table with her fork, speaking earnestly.

"Yaoyao, you can't have it all in life. Since you chose this tough guy, you have to get used to his roughness. Don't try to judge him by the standards of a romance novel hero."

Shu Yao lowered her head, her fingers picking at the water droplets on the outside of the coffee cup, and remained silent.

She admitted that Jojo was right.

But the anger in her heart just wouldn't dissipate; it was stuck in her chest, neither rising nor falling.

Just then.

The classroom door, which was slightly ajar, was suddenly pushed open forcefully.

With a "bang," it slammed against the wall.

Lin, the young receptionist, rushed in like a gust of wind, wearing flat shoes.

She was panting heavily, her cheeks flushed, and her eyes shone as if she had discovered some earth-shattering gossip.

"Teacher Shu! Teacher Shu!"

Kobayashi leaned against the door frame, panting heavily, pointing at the hall outside, his voice trembling with excitement.

"Outside! Someone's bringing you something!"

Shu Yao frowned, startled by the sudden commotion.

She pulled out a tissue and wiped the water off her hands, her expression indifferent.

"What is it? Is it a package? Just leave it at the front desk. Why are you making such a fuss?"

"It's not a delivery!"

Kobayashi took a deep breath, calmed himself, and then exclaimed loudly at a volume that could be heard throughout the entire art center.

"Teacher Shu, someone sent you flowers, such a huge bouquet!"

*

In the classroom.

The air conditioner vents were blowing cold air.

Shu Yao sat next to the cello, still holding the tissue she had used to wipe her nose.

Xiao Lin, the receptionist, had a loud voice that echoed throughout the room, making everyone's ears ring.

Send flowers.

These two words struck Shu Yao's ears, and she was stunned for a full three seconds.

My first thought was, "Impossible."

That barbaric straight man who even uses a 2,800 yuan face wash as shampoo.

Does he even know what sending flowers means? Does he even know which way the florist's door faces?

"Who sent it?" Shu Yao threw the tissue into the trash can, trying to keep her voice steady to hide her uncontrollable heartbeat.

"I don't know! He didn't leave his name!" Xiaolin stomped her feet excitedly. "But he was standing in the lobby! He was really tall! Dressed all in black! Short hair! Incredibly handsome! He just looked a little fierce!"

He was dressed all in black, extremely tall, and looked a bit fierce.

These characteristics, pieced together, could only belong to He Zheng.

Shu Yao's heart skipped a beat.

Immediately following was a burst of frantic jumping.

He really came.

Not only did they come, they also brought flowers.

After two days of cold war, the man finally couldn't hold back anymore. He knew he was in the wrong and knew he had to apologize and coax her.

Shu Yao's lips curled up uncontrollably, but she quickly suppressed it.

Sitting opposite her, Qiaoqiao had already seen through her subtle expressions.

"Oh, the blockhead has finally seen the light, the iron tree has blossomed." Qiaoqiao poked at the Black Forest cake on the paper plate with her fork, drawing out her words in a sarcastic tone.

"Who was that just now, so indignantly calling someone a caveman? Why did they all lose their minds as soon as they heard about sending flowers?"

Shu Yao rolled her eyes at her.

"Who's lost their soul? It's just a bouquet of flowers. Haven't I, Shu Yao, ever seen flowers before?"

She said it, but her actions betrayed her words.

She stood up, grabbed the hem of her khaki knitted dress with both hands, and pulled it down forcefully to smooth out the wrinkles caused by sitting.

Then he turned around and faced the half-length mirror on the wall.

She raised her hand and tidied her slightly messy curly hair.

I sweated a little during class, and my nose is a bit oily.

She quickly opened the drawer, took out a powder compact, and pressed it twice on her nose and forehead.

She then took out a dusty rose lipstick and quickly applied another layer to her lips.

The movements were executed in one smooth, fluid motion.

Qiaoqiao rolled her eyes as she watched from the side. "Why are you touching up your makeup? People have already seen what you look like without makeup. Who are you trying to impress with this makeup?"

"None of your business."

Shu Yao threw the lipstick back into the drawer.

She took a deep breath, straightened her back, and slightly raised her chin.

He resumed his usual haughty and superior attitude.

"Let's go out and take a look."

She stepped out of the classroom first, wearing five-centimeter stilettos.

Qiaoqiao, carrying the unfinished cake, followed behind to watch the excitement.

*

The art center has long corridors.

The floor was covered with light-colored solid wood flooring, waxed and spotless.

Several abstract oil paintings with soft colors hang on the wall, and the spotlights from the ceiling cast a warm glow, creating a sophisticated and bourgeois atmosphere.

Shu Yao walked down the corridor.

The high heels clicked crisply on the wooden floor.

The rhythm is brisk.

She was actually a little hopeful.

What kind of flowers would He Zheng buy?

Given his extravagant spending habits, it must be the most expensive trendy flower shop in the city center.

Ninety-nine imported Ecuadorian red roses, packaged in a black velvet round box and tied with a dark red French ribbon, exude understated luxury and a fragrance that blends wealth and romance.

Or, it could be a giant Guns N' Roses, wrapped in transparent English cellophane, which would be extremely eye-catching to carry around in the street.

Regardless of the reason, as long as he is willing to bow his head and admit defeat in front of so many colleagues and students' parents.

She could consider moving on from the grudge over that 2,800 yuan face wash.