The traffic was unusually congested today.
Yang Quan called, saying he expected to arrive in fifteen minutes.
During those fifteen minutes, Qian Dailan, who was sitting on pins and needles, changed out of her old skirt and put on long sleeves and pants, covering her neck and collarbones completely.
But Ye Xiyan still had scratch marks on his neck.
These were their “evidence.”
Ye Xijing suggested washing the skirt and sending it over, but Qian Dailan flatly refused.
“Don’t talk to me anymore,” Qian Dailan said.
“I’m really angry right now. Whenever you talk to me, I just want to attack you barbarically.”
Ye Xijing closed his mouth.
“Wait until I calm down, then we can chat,” she said.
“Right now, it’s best if you keep quiet. Thanks.”
Ye Xijing couldn’t help but ask, “When will you calm down?”
Qian Dailan replied, “With you saying things like that, I’ll never calm down.”
Ye Xijing could only stay silent, casting a pleading look at his older brother, hoping he would act as a mediator for the tense relationship between them.
All this time, it had been Ye Xiyan taking care of him, but this time, he remained silent.
It seemed like he hadn’t noticed his younger brother’s awkwardness, and with his usual calm expression, he exchanged polite words with Qian Dailan.
“How’s your new job?”
“Brother, I don’t know yet. Tomorrow is my first day.”
“If you have any difficulties in the future, you can come to me.”
“Thanks, brother.”
……
Usually, at this point, after the small talk is over, it’s time to stand up and say goodbye, but for some reason, Yang Quan was still not arriving.
As time passed, and it seemed like they wouldn’t be able to leave, Qian Dailan simply asked.
She had no one else to consult.
Yin Shenyan wasn’t someone who could offer wise advice, and being in a technical field like computer science, he wouldn’t understand these kinds of rules.
Furthermore, she couldn’t find anyone with more experience or culture than these two brothers.
“…I’ve really run into some trouble,” Qian Dailan said bluntly.
“Here’s the thing: the manager asked me to pick an English name. I don’t have much experience with foreigners, and I’m not very familiar with names… So I’ve come up with two names: Cherry and Candy. Which one do you think is better?”
Ye Xiyan, who was pouring water, shook his head.
“Neither of these is suitable.”
“Why?”
Qian Dailan asked.
“Is it too common?”
“Cherry has a meaning in Western culture, it’s a metaphor for the female hymen,” Ye Xijing interjected to explain for his girlfriend.
“So ‘lost cherry’ is a metaphor for ‘losing virginity’… I don’t think it’s appropriate. Candy means sweets, but many strippers like to use that name, along with names like Angel, Raven, Destiny… these are all common names for strippers in white nightclubs.”
“I didn’t ask you!”
Qian Dailan snapped, her guard up.
“How do you know strippers in nightclubs use these names?”
Ye Xijing immediately responded, “My IELTS teacher mentioned it.”
“Alright, you can stop talking now,” Qian Dailan huffed, her tone softening.
“I didn’t ask you.”
Ye Xijing complied, quickly switching to sign language, gesturing to Qian Dailan.
“Can I speak to you like this?”
He had previously volunteered to help people with hearing impairments and speech difficulties, and had taught Qian Dailan sign language.
It had become their little unspoken bond: whenever they argued and she didn’t want to listen to him, he would use sign language to coax her.
Qian Dailan sat sideways, refusing to look at him.
Ye Xijing continued silently, signing “I love you.”
Qian Dailan still refused to look at him but couldn’t help but smile at his gesture before quickly regaining her serious expression, deciding not to acknowledge him.
Meanwhile, Ye Xiyan, who had been sitting quietly, finally spoke, his calm words pulling her back to the matter at hand.
“What type do you want?”
Ye Xiyan asked.
“What are the requirements?”
“I’d like it to match my personality,” Qian Dailan thought for a moment.
“It would be great if the customers could immediately associate the name with me. As a salesperson, it’s best to leave a lasting impression.”
Ye Xiyan responded quickly, as if the name had always been in his subconscious.
“How about Jasmine?”
Qian Dailan tried to recall.
“Jasmine… the princess? Like the Jasmine from the Sultan’s court?”
She noticed Ye Xiyan’s expression freeze.
“Jasmine” seemed to remind him of something.
“Sorry, that’s not suitable,” Ye Xiyan said.
“Many Indians living in the UK or the US like to use that name. It sounds like a vegetarian, and it doesn’t suit you.”
Qian Dailan ignored the scratches she had caused on his collar and said, “It’s also a bit complicated, not easy for customers to remember—”
The feeling was strange.
Ye Xijing was right beside them, completely unaware, like a clueless husband from a low-budget movie.
Qian Dailan realized she couldn’t look at Ye Xiyan naturally or have a normal conversation with him anymore.
She was afraid her gaze would betray her.
Though, she didn’t even know what could be betrayed—she was afraid of secrets that even she didn’t fully understand.
“Don’t worry, the people who shop at the store you’re interviewing for,” Ye Xijing said with a smile.
“Although their education levels might not be high, they can still understand English names.”
“Thanks for reminding me again that I’m a high school dropout,” Qian Dailan said.
“I already know. You don’t need to keep repeating it, stop nagging me all the time.”
As soon as the words left her mouth, she regretted them—her emotions were really out of control tonight.
The awkwardness with Ye Xiyan, the tension between the three of them, the hidden guilt she was keeping from Ye Xijing, and the “stupid things” Ye Xijing had done these past few days… all these things built up, and Qian Dailan found herself unable to control her temper.
She shouldn’t have yelled at Ye Xijing about this; his mistake was somewhere else.
Ye Xijing still continued with his sign language, saying “Sorry.”
He wasn’t angry at all.
His hands clasped together in a pleading gesture.
“What about Molly? Or Dolly?”
Qian Dailan asked.
“What about these two?”
“Dolly isn’t suitable,” Ye Xiyan rejected, frowning slightly.
“It has a meaning related to dolls; Molly is okay, its original meaning is ‘daughter of the sea’—”
“Then I don’t want it,” Qian Dailan said.
“I don’t want to be a little mermaid who turns into foam.”
“How about Mila?”
Ye Xiyan suggested.
“It sounds very similar in Chinese, English, and French—you can just pronounce it as it is in pinyin.”
Qian Dailan asked, “Which one?”
Ye Xiyan took paper and a pen, quickly wrote it down, and showed it to her.
Qian Dailan couldn’t help but notice his hand.
His right hand was long and beautiful, with a callus on the side of his middle finger’s first joint from gripping a pen.
The constant friction had made this area of skin rough and dry.
So, it was with this finger that he had reached into her that day, and it was its first joint and callus that she had swallowed.
No wonder it had felt rough—wait.
Qian Dailan tried to push the unpleasant thoughts out of her mind with a deep breath, but at that moment, she heard Ye Xiyan’s breath.
It was a very obvious sound, as if he was suppressing something.
She couldn’t help but look up, only to find that his expression was indifferent.
It seemed like she had just imagined it.
“That’s it,” Ye Xiyan said in his usual cold tone.
After writing, he took the sticky note, held the pen with his right hand, and used his left hand’s thumb and middle finger to spin it, pressing the paper gently across the smooth coffee table and into her hands.
“Simple and easy to remember.”
Mila.
His cursive handwriting was beautiful, slightly slanted, neat but still elegant.
It was like him.
Qian Dailan noticed the muscles in his left arm, slightly bulging from the effort, and the veins visible under his skin.
They looked so tempting, like she just wanted to poke them—or even bite them.
So sexy.
God, how could she think of her boyfriend’s brother in such a way?
She should be respecting him like she would her own grandfather.
“Thank you,” Qian Dailan said quickly, tucking the note away.
“Thank you, brother.”
Just as the paper was crumpled, the doorbell finally rang.
Yang Quan, who had been stuck in traffic for a long time, apologized while eagerly anticipating the “triple overtime pay” and finally arrived.
Qian Dailan felt that Ye Xiyan seemed like he had more to say, but perhaps he didn’t.
He just had those eyes, the kind that could make even a toilet bowl seem sentimental, and even sitting casually seemed to tell countless stories.
Life really wasn’t fair—some people had faces full of stories, while others’ faces looked like they had accidents waiting to happen.
Being handsome, intelligent, emotionally smart, and coming from a wealthy background—these four qualities were hard to come by together.
Ordinary people could usually only have three out of them, like Yin Shenyan.
But Ye Xiyan was lucky enough to have everything.
He seemed to lack nothing, need nothing.
Even when he dreamt, it was about big beauties like Qian Dailan.
As for her dreams, they were always about arguing with Yin Shenyan.
Qian Dailan couldn’t help but feel jealous of him.
Ye Xijing reluctantly saw Qian Dailan off.
He really hoped Yang Quan would remember the address of Qian Dailan’s apartment and tell him, but Yang Quan kept tight-lipped, no matter how much Ye Xijing tried to coax or pressure him.
Yang Quan’s only response was, “That’s her private information.”
Ye Xijing knew immediately that it was Ye Xiyan who had told him to say this.
What privacy?
His brother could know, but as her boyfriend, he couldn’t?
Then he realized that, unless Qian Dailan told him, he didn’t even know where she worked.
Qian Dailan had mentioned the name of the brand she was interviewing with, but there were seven of its stores in Beijing—seven stores far apart.
Was he supposed to search each one?
In thirteen days, Ye Xijing would fly to Hong Kong first, then transfer to London, and he would have to attend several celebratory dinners and parties with friends.
He didn’t have time to coax Qian Dailan, and that made him even more frustrated.
“You’re not frustrated,” Ye Xiyan said sharply.
“You’re just regretting not covering up the lie, and now Dailan knows about it—if you had to do it again, you’d still lie to her.”
Ye Xijing begged, “Brother, just tell me Dailan’s address.”
“No chance,” Ye Xiyan said.
“Alright, I’m busy, I don’t have time to talk to you about this.”
His cold brother hung up the phone, leaving Ye Xijing with no choice but to try another tactic.
He went to find Yang Quan again, but as expected, Yang Quan still wouldn’t reveal a word.
Yang Quan was busy too.
Ye Xiyan had just moved into a new house, and his magazine and newspaper subscriptions were still being sent to the old address.
So Yang Quan needed to help him change the subscription details to his new address and bring back the magazines and newspapers that had already been delivered to the old address.
Ye Xiyan had also subscribed to some new magazines and had already made a list, which Yang Quan needed to follow to contact the magazine offices one by one.
Bored out of his mind, Ye Xijing picked up the list of magazines Ye Xiyan had subscribed to.
“The Economist,” “National Geographic”—huh?
Didn’t my brother always subscribe to these two magazines?
Ye Xijing wondered.
Why is he subscribing to them again?
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