Strange in public! Trying to conceive in private! Pampered and kissed every night.

So President Qin flew from New York to Beijing, crossing half the globe, just to eat the noodles she made?

Song Xinya was stunned for a moment.

She said that casually to show off her good relationship with Qin Yuhe in front of President Wang and Yang Yangjuan.

Did he really believe it?

Whether he was telling the truth or just being polite, he said he wanted to eat the noodles she made, so she made them for him.

Song Xinya and Qin Yuhe stood facing each other, feeling somewhat awkward, after all, she wasn't familiar with her new husband yet.

She touched the stray hairs on her forehead with her fingers, turned around, and led him upstairs: "Let me take you to my house."

Qin Yuhe followed behind her.

Song Xinya had walked the stairs from the first floor to the sixth floor countless times; she could walk home with her eyes closed.

Today, when she took the first step, her foot slipped and she fell to one side. She frantically grabbed the handrail next to her.

Two large hands gripped her waist on both sides, lifted her up, and placed her steadily on the steps.

His hands gripped her waist with strength and power, his hot palm pressed against her skin, and she could even feel his slender fingers, as if carved from jade.

Song Xinya's heart skipped a beat, as if she had been electrocuted.

She made up an excuse: "Maybe someone spilled water on the stairs, so I slipped."

Qin Yuhe looked at the dry steps and said, "Yeah, the path is indeed slippery."

Song Xinya glanced at his hand, which was still gripping her waist, and said, "I'm going to keep moving forward."

He kept his hand on her waist, making it difficult for her to walk.

Qin Yuhe withdrew his hand and put it in his pants pocket.

Song Xinya felt a soreness and weakness in her waist and legs, and she held onto the handrail to walk up.

Today she was wearing a bodycon skirt, with a white shirt tucked into the black bodycon skirt. Her waist was slender and delicate, like a willow leaf, forming a full and undulating curve with her hips.

Qin Yuhe always maintains a gentlemanly demeanor in any situation, exercising self-control and refraining from looking at inappropriate parts of the body. He has never had a voyeuristic tendency.

At that moment, he looked up, and his gaze fell on her buttocks from several steps away.

Her firm, curvaceous figure is alluring and captivating, every undulation exuding charm and seduction.

The image of that small, round black mole resurfaced in his mind; he had licked it that day.

At that moment, a gust of wind blew in through the window of the corridor and brushed against Qin Yuhe, but it did not make him feel cool; he only felt hot.

"Mr. Qin..." Song Xinya suddenly turned around to look at him.

Qin Yuhe's long, straight eyelashes formed a sharp arc in the dim light as he averted his gaze.

"What is it?" His voice was a little hoarse.

Song Xinya felt the atmosphere was a bit cold as the two remained silent, so she started a conversation, asking, "How long are you going to stay this time?"

She realized her words were inappropriate as soon as they left her mouth; it was as if she was hoping for the person to leave as soon as they returned.

So Song Xinya tried to make amends by saying, "I'll make you tomato beef noodles tonight. If you like, I can make it for you every day, no matter how long you stay in China."

Qin Yuhe: "Okay."

Song Xinya: "..."

I feel like I dug a hole and buried myself in it.

But didn't they agree too readily? Didn't they even bother with a polite refusal?

Song Xinya considers herself to be quite eloquent, but at this moment her mind went blank.

Fine, let the awkward silence continue; she remained silent.

The old buildings don't have voice-activated lights; you have to manually press a button to turn on the lights when you pass each floor.

Song Xinya usually walks along the stairs without bothering to turn on the lights, but now, walking ahead, she turns on the lights on at each floor.

The sound of leather shoes clicking on the concrete floor came from behind, steady and powerful, echoing in the quiet, dimly lit hallway, making a strong impression.

His tall stature cast a shadow that enveloped her entirely, and the two shadows overlapped, making it appear as if they were embracing.

Song Xinya always felt a burning gaze staring at her from behind, making her slender back feel hot.

Am I just being presumptuous?

Walking from the first floor to the sixth floor takes neither a long nor a short time, but tonight it feels exceptionally long.

Every second felt like it was walking on her heart.

When Song Xinya arrived at her doorstep, she was covered in sweat; her shirt was soaked and stuck to her back.

The white shirt was soaked and became slightly see-through. Qin Yuhe had no intention of offending her, but when he looked at her, he could clearly see the color of her underwear: pink.

Song Xinya inserted the key, opened the door, and bent down to change her shoes.

Qin Yuhe looked at the shoe rack and saw a pair of blue men's slippers.

Song Xinya handed him the slippers.

Qin Yuhe: "I don't wear clothes that other men have worn."

Song Xinya thought he was complaining about the dirt and said, "I have shoe covers at home, why don't you put them on before you wear them?"

Qin Yuhe: "I won't wear it."

He wouldn't wear it if other men had already done it.

Song Xinya remembered that she had bought a pair of men's slippers a few days ago, so she took them out of the closet and placed them next to his feet.

Now he should wear it, right?

Qin Yuhe said, "Is it inappropriate for me to wear shoes you bought for another man?"

Song Xinya said, "It's okay, you wear it. I'll buy him a pair another day."

Qin Yuhe's brows furrowed: "You're really generous to that man."

Song Xinya: "He is the man closest to me in this world, so of course I have to be good to him."

Qin Yuhe clenched his teeth together.

Instead of wearing the new slippers, he put shoe covers over his black leather shoes.

If he doesn't want to wear it, then so be it. Maybe the young master has some kind of germophobia. Song Xinya didn't say anything more and let him be.

Because she had sweated a lot and felt sticky and uncomfortable, Song Xinya said, "I'm going to take a shower and change my clothes. Mr. Qin, please have a seat."

Her figure disappeared at the bedroom door, and Qin Yuhe heard a click as the door was locked from the inside.

He stood there surveying the entire room. The walls had turned yellow from the erosion of time, and large patches of plaster had peeled off the roof, revealing the mottled cement underneath.

The furniture was all outdated and old-fashioned; one chair had only three legs left, with a stack of books underneath serving as the fourth.

Although the whole house was visibly dilapidated, every part was clean and spotless, and everything was arranged neatly.

A bunch of pink and blue hydrangeas were placed on the table.

Qin Yuhe walked around the house and found many more traces of men.

A basketball in the corner, an Ultraman figurine on the table, a men's razor charging, and—

Men's underwear drying on the balcony.

Qin Yuhe stared at the blue men's underwear, then shifted his gaze to the side and saw a pink women's underwear.

A man and a woman's underwear were hanging together.

How close their relationship is.

Qin Yuhe suddenly found it difficult to breathe.

He was certain that a man lived in Song Xinya's apartment.

So is she living with a man?

Or should we share an apartment?

If she were to live with a man, he felt he would be a better match.

Whether she lived with other men or shared an apartment, it made Qin Yuhe feel uncomfortable.

Qin Yuhe's jawline was taut, his thin lips pressed into a straight line, his fingers traced his bow tie, and pulled it down, the meticulously tied tie being pulled open halfway.

With a creak, the door to the room next to Song Xinya's bedroom suddenly opened.

Having just woken up, Song Tingye, with his hair in a mess, wearing only a pair of shorts and no shirt, swaggered out.