His physiological preference

Yang Zhiyan's mouth opened slightly.

It wasn't intentional. Her body opened up on its own before her brain could make a decision.

Her gaze slid from the pectoral muscles to the abdominal muscles, then from the abdominal muscles to the starting point of the V-line, where it paused for a moment.

"Zhiyan?"

Qin Yuzheng called her.

It's not Miss Yang, it's Zhiyan.

The two words he uttered were low and deep, carrying a languidness and moisture unique to someone who had just taken a shower, softly covering her heart.

A voice screamed in Yang Zhiyan's head.

Jiang Siya is right.

She had never eaten anything good before.

All those blind dates I went on before—the bald ones, the greasy ones, the ones who wanted me to have three sons—what were they all like? The difference between those men and the man in front of me wasn't distance, it was species.

"Is...is there something wrong?" she heard herself say. Yang Zhiyan's mind was still focused on his abs, and she was temporarily unable to process her thoughts.

Qin Yuzheng leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed over his chest. The way he crossed his arms made his pectoral muscles more defined. A barely perceptible smile played on his lips as his gaze lingered on her face, finally settling for a moment on her slightly parted lips.

"Zhiyan," Qin Yuzheng called again, "Is it alright if I call you that? Calling you Miss Yang feels too formal."

Yang Zhiyan nodded blankly.

Then I remembered the purpose of this trip.

She held up the bag in her hand, her movements as stiff as if she were doing calisthenics.

"Your snacks," she said, her voice dry, "you left them in my living room."

Qin Yuzheng glanced down at the bag, then looked up at her. A drop of water fell from his hair, landed on his shoulder, slid down the contours of his chest muscles, past his ribs, past his abs, and disappeared at the edge of the towel.

Yang Zhiyan's gaze followed the drop of water uncontrollably all the way.

Then she realized where she was looking, and suddenly looked up, her eyes meeting his.

Qin Yuzheng's eyes were filled with laughter. He thought she was so cute, so interesting, and her dazed and innocent look made his heart soften.

"That was originally bought for you," he said, gesturing with his chin toward the bag. "Girls probably like to snack when they're watching TV at home."

Yang Zhiyan opened her mouth: "Ah? How could I possibly accept that?"

"I'll need your help again in the future," he said, his smile widening slightly, "my dining buddy."

"Oh, okay." Yang Zhiyan nodded again.

Her brain hadn't yet recovered from the fact that "he wasn't wearing a shirt." Her visual cortex was still processing data on her pectoral muscles, while her language cortex had given up, leaving only "oh" and "uh-huh" as output options.

Looking at her, Qin Yuzheng felt a surge of tenderness in his heart, as if someone had gently squeezed it.

So this is what she's like in real life. Not the Yang Zhiyan who calmly explains things at the cheongsam culture exhibition, not the Yang Zhiyan who carefully selects vegetables in the supermarket.

She is Yang Zhiyan, a dazed and silly girl who forgets who she is after he calls her "Zhiyan".

Qin Yuzheng felt that every aspect of her was fatally attractive to him.

He longed to have her as soon as possible.

He didn't want to wait any longer.

But Liu Minlan said, "Don't confess your feelings right away, or people will think you're crazy."

Qin Yuzheng managed to restrain himself.

"Goodnight, Zhiyan," he said.

"Goodnight." Yang Zhiyan turned and walked away, clutching the bag of snacks. She almost tripped over the carpet in the hallway, stumbled, but steadied herself and didn't look back.

I rushed home, leaned against the door, and held snacks in my hands, my heart pounding so hard it felt like it was going to jump out of my throat.

She glanced down at the bag in her arms: potato chips, biscuits, and beef jerky. Snacks for girls to eat while watching TV dramas.

Seems like a master of romance. Yang Zhiyan, don't fall for him. You're just dining buddies. Yang Zhiyan warned herself.

opposite.

After closing the door, Qin Yuzheng glanced down at the towel around his waist. Luckily, he had a habit of working out and was in good shape.

Her reaction was much more interesting than he had imagined.

He saw her gaze slide from his face to his chest muscles, and from his chest muscles to his abs. He was frozen in place, his mouth slightly open, his eyes wide open, like a rabbit caught in a car headlight.

Qin Yuzheng walked into the bedroom, stood in front of the full-length mirror, turned to the side, and glanced at his reflection. Broad shoulders, narrow waist, and clean, sharp lines in his abdomen.

He started working out in his teens, spent his college holidays in the military, and continued even after starting work, going to the gym at least three times a week. He used to think it was just a habit, but now he sees it as an asset.

she likes.

He figured it out.

Qin Yuzheng nodded at his reflection in the mirror.

From now on, I should wear more fitted clothes. No, I should try to be naked in front of her more often. Wait, saying that would make me seem like a pervert. So, I'll go to the gym more often, build up my chest muscles, and get a couple more abs. If she likes it, she gets it.

He took a clean set of pajamas from the closet and leaned against the headboard.

My hair wasn't dry yet, and water droplets seeped from the ends, dripping onto the pillow, feeling cool.

He remembered the moment she threw herself into his arms. Her body was so light, like a bird crashing into his embrace.

When her palm was placed on his chest, it was cool, probably because she was holding a glass of ice water.

The cool palm against the hot skin sent shivers down his spine.

Then he reacted.

It happened so fast, so fast he couldn't control it. He could only say, "Go back and change," practically fleeing back to his own side.

I took a cold shower for half an hour, the cold water hitting my skin, but the reaction just wouldn't go away.

The 20th.

When Yang Zhiyan arrived at the studio in the morning, a bank notification popped up on her phone: her salary had been deposited into her account.

She looked at the number and a slight smile curved her lips. Eight thousand yuan—not much, but it was all hers.

No household expenses, no need to secretly hide money, no need to budget. Rent is 3,500, so the remaining 4,500 is enough. If that's not enough, there's a commission from Teacher Mu; I've already saved quite a bit on that new card.

She put her phone on the worktable, about to start working, when her dear (and money-loving) mother called.

Yang Zhiyan looked at the word on the screen, her finger hovering above the answer button.

Her mother really knows everything about her when she gets paid.

"mom."

"Zhiyan," Yang's mother's voice came from the other end of the line, carrying a deliberate, cloying intimacy, "Have you received your salary yet?"

Yang Zhiyan tapped her finger on the worktable.

"No," she said.

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone.

"How could this be?" Yang's mother's voice changed, the intimacy gone, replaced by a wary tone that said, "Don't lie to me." "Isn't today payday? The 20th, that's right."

Yang Zhiyan leaned back in her chair, twirling the scissors between her fingers. She looked at the light reflecting off the blade, a cold, thin gleam.

"It was the 20th, that's right," Yang Zhi said calmly, "but I borrowed money from Teacher Mu to rent a place, and she deducted it directly from my salary. I won't get my salary for this month or next month."

This was the explanation Yang Zhiyan had prepared long ago.

"What?!" Yang's mother's voice rose, sharp as fingernails scraping glass. "How could you do this? What about your brother's mortgage?"

Yang Zhiyan placed the scissors on the table.