Chapter 51: Have You Vent Your Anger Now?

Her eyes fluttered softly, and tears fell inexplicably, but he quickly wiped them away.

“Really?”

Tang Xiaoyu lifted her reddened eyes.

Bian Yang pinched her cheek and smiled, “Of course. Tang Xiaoyu, someone who likes you will love you no matter how you change. As for those who don’t, next time you can boldly say, ‘I don’t like you either.’”

Tang Yu lowered her head, “Wouldn’t that get me into trouble?”

Hearing this, Bian Yang’s heart twinged painfully—she was afraid.

He swallowed and spoke, “What’s there to fear? I’ll stand up for you. From now on, you can walk with your head held high.”

Tang Yu’s cheeks moved slightly as she looked at him, “But what if you’re the one who bullies me?”

He chuckled softly, “Then I deserve it.”

He then took her delicate hand and, without hesitation, slapped his own face with it.

Tang Yu hadn’t reacted yet when her palm, held in his, struck his face with a loud smack.

She was stunned—he hadn’t held back at all, and her palm tingled. She quickly tried to pull her hand back, but Bian Yang held it tight.

His tongue pressed against his cheek, and it really did sting.

The young man gently kneaded her soft palm, coaxing her, “Do you feel better now?”

Tang Yu’s throat tightened, “I…”

Bian Yang held her hand again, his voice low and gentle, “It’s alright. If you’re not satisfied, keep going. But remember, if anyone ever says such things to you again, just hit them hard, don’t hold back, understand?”

This time, Tang Yu quickly pulled her hand away. Bian Yang, already unsteady in his squat, was tugged forward, her nose brushing against the soft fabric at his chest.

It was the familiar scent of cedar and cold.

She lifted her head and swiftly hid her hand behind her back.

“I’m not angry anymore… please stop hitting yourself…”

She lowered her head, her voice hoarse, “I don’t want to hurt you either.”

“Are you really not angry?” The young man’s expression was tense, carefully watching her, afraid she’d lie.

“Mm.” She nodded, squeezing the fingers hidden behind her back.

Bian Yang gazed at her steadily.

After a few seconds, he suddenly laughed quietly, “Shall we shake hands and make peace?”

He held out his hand to her.

Tang Yu licked her lips, released the fingers she’d been clenching behind her back, and slapped his palm with hers, then looked away.

Bian Yang smiled, let his hand fall, and seeing her smile too, finally relaxed.

Still squatting before her, he continued, “It’s pouring outside, with thunder and fierce winds. The streetlights are barely visible, and you know the hotel’s situation. So tonight, would you make do and stay here?”

Tang Yu sat quietly, not saying a word.

Was that a refusal?

Bian Yang hadn’t dealt much with girls, and reaching this point was already his limit.

He patiently tried again, speaking gently, “You sleep in the bedroom, I’ll stay here. We’ll be far apart. Lock the door when you sleep. Is that alright?”

Bian Yang was teaching her how to guard against him.

Tang Yu squeezed her fingers, glanced at him in confusion, “Actually, it’s not because of that…”

She finally spoke.

Bian Yang had used up all his patience on her, his voice soft, “Then why?”

Tang Yu’s gaze flickered, and she whispered, “What if your girlfriend… or girlfriends… misunderstand?”

Bian Yang: “…?”

“I don’t want to cause trouble for you, so I think staying at the hotel is better.”

She’d wanted to say this back by the shoe cabinet.

Hearing it now, he couldn’t help but laugh, “My girlfriend—girlfriends? Where did you get girlfriends for me?”

“You said so before…” Her eyes were still red with traces of tears.

Bian Yang remembered.

That time.

The time he bragged.

“I have no girlfriend, and certainly no girlfriends!” The words came out through clenched teeth.

“Huh?”

She looked dazed.

Bian Yang was exasperated, “Of course not. Such an outstanding man as me—who could handle it?” He paused, glanced at her, a bit proud, “Though there might be exceptions in the future.”

“You really don’t?” Hearing his denial, Tang Yu felt relieved, and for some reason, a little happy.

Then she looked at him again, “So what you told me about being experienced… you lied?”

Bian Yang: “…”

Tang Yu’s voice was nasal, “Bian Yang, why did you lie to me? Did you think admitting you didn’t know how to kiss was embarrassing?”

Bian Yang’s face darkened.

He should have let her cry a bit longer!

“Who taught you to talk like this?”

Tang Yu: “…”

He stood up, grabbed his water cup, and went to the kitchen, grumbling.

Soon, he returned with a cup of warm milk.

“You’ve cried so long, you must be thirsty. Drink your milk and stop talking nonsense.”

He shoved the cup into her hands.

Tang Yu held it, sipping slowly, and stole glances at him over the rim.

Bian Yang went to the bedroom, seemed to busy himself for a while, and came out with a blanket and pillow, looking down at her, “When you finish, go shower and sleep.”

“Okay…” She drank most of the milk, set the cup on the low table, and tried to negotiate, “I’m already grateful you’re letting me stay. I’ll sleep on the sofa.”

Bian Yang snorted, “Letting a girl sleep on the sofa? How could I live that down?” He hauled her off the sofa, tossed the blanket and pillow onto it, then lay down himself, leaving her no room.

“Go sleep. I’m tired, don’t bother me.”

Tang Yu saw his eyes closed, clearly uninterested in talking.

She couldn’t figure out how he changed so quickly.

He’d just been comforting her…

She shuffled toward his bedroom, and as she reached the door, a lazy voice sounded behind her:

“I changed the sheets and duvet cover—they’re clean. The shirt on the bed is unworn, you can use it as pajamas or not. The toothbrush and towel are new, in the bathroom.”

She turned back, the sofa blocking her view of him.

“Thank you…”

She sighed softly, picked up her bag, and went into his bedroom.

The bed linens were a warm cream color, different from before.

A neatly folded T-shirt lay atop them.

She rubbed her fingers, held it up against herself.

He was tall, and the shirt was oversized, reaching her knees—no concern about exposure.

The fabric was soft and comfortable.

Holding the shirt, she entered the bathroom. On the marble vanity were two glass cups, both with blue toothbrushes.

One set was on the shelf with a razor—his.

The other set below, likely prepared for her.

Bian Yang heard the door close and sat up on the sofa, one leg stretched out, the other bent, lazy and relaxed.

He picked up his vibrating phone.

Qin Mingyu was calling.

He hung up immediately, tossed it aside, and grabbed the remote.

Soon, the sound of water came from the bathroom behind him, clear and close.

She was showering.

His grip on the remote tightened, his throat itching.

He kept turning up the volume, drowning out the water.

Still unsatisfied, he lay on the sofa, pulled the blanket over his face.

He stayed that way until the bathroom door opened and a soft voice called, “Bian Yang, I’m done.”

“Okay.” He lifted the blanket, sat up, and grabbed his cup, looking over.

The girl had just showered, wearing his T-shirt. Her exposed legs and arms were pale and delicate, striking him straight in the eyes.

Bian Yang’s drinking motion paused, his throat tightening again, and he quickly looked away, grabbing a box of ointment from the medical kit and tossing it to her, “Apply it yourself in the room.”

“My injuries are almost healed. No need for medicine.”

The marks were faint, nearly gone.

Bian Yang watched TV, his voice low and hoarse, “Then apply it a few more times for good measure.”

“…Alright.”

She hugged her clothes and the ointment, entering the bedroom.

After applying the ointment, she lay on the unfamiliar bed. Though soft and comfortable, she felt wrapped in his presence, hugging the blanket and tossing restlessly, unable to sleep.