The young assistant shook his head in a panic, realizing after a moment that Shen Luo had asked him a question over the phone. He quickly responded, “No, no, everything’s fine.”
“Shen-ge, Ming—” The assistant wanted to say that Mr. Ming was right beside him and seemed to have a lot to say to Shen Luo.
But before he could finish, he saw Mr. Ming put a finger to his lips.
Ming Shao looked at the assistant, his face unshaven, and shook his head slightly.
Don’t tell him, Ming Shao mouthed.
He didn’t want Shen Luo to see him in such a wretched state, let alone let Shen Luo know.
“The moon tomorrow is going to be really round,” the assistant awkwardly changed the subject mid-sentence.
Ming Shao: …
Shen Luo: …
Assistant: …
The air grew awkwardly silent.
“It’s alright, nothing that can’t be fixed,” Shen Luo said, unable to think of a specific way to comfort him, so he opted for a generic phrase.
“Right! Shen-ge, you’re right! Good night, ge!” The assistant quickly agreed and hung up the call.
Ming Shao closed his eyes again, his thoughts unreadable. The assistant held the divorce agreement in his hand, hesitating to bring it out.
The assistant felt conflicted. He couldn’t help but think that Mr. Ming seemed pretty pitiful too.
Sigh.
“Are you close with Luo— I mean, with Shen Luo?” Ming Shao’s voice was hoarse, one hand covering his eyes, the other resting casually on the window sill.
Though it seemed like a casual gesture, the Alpha was actually gripping the window frame so tightly it was nearly bent out of shape. The instability of his pheromones, a lingering effect of his injured gland, was evident.
“Uh?” The assistant didn’t catch on at first, instinctively nodding before remembering how Shen Luo had just addressed him. Then, he quickly shook his head.
“Mr. Ming, please don’t misunderstand! Shen-ge usually doesn’t call me that! It’s probably just because I got scolded a few days ago, so—”
“You two even left work together,” Ming Shao interrupted, pointing out the next detail.
Now the assistant was truly confused.
“What do you mean, left work together?”
Ming Shao recounted the time he had gone to the company looking for Shen Luo, only to see him leaving with the assistant.
He even added, “Luo Luo has never left work with me.”
Assistant: ???
“That wasn’t anything. Shen-ge had a stomachache that day. I’ve bought medicine for him before, so I thought I’d take him to get some.”
“So what’s the name of the medicine?” Ming Shao asked after a moment of silence.
The assistant told him the exact name.
Ming Shao carefully wrote it down on paper. “I’ll buy it for Luo Luo from now on.”
You’re not allowed to walk him out after work.
—
“Nothing that can’t be fixed.”
A few days after the assistant left, Ming Shao suddenly became more proactive.
He started eating on time, shaved his beard, cooperated with his treatment—Ming Shao got everything in order.
He was discharged soon after, and his life seemed to return to what it used to be.
Work, home, work, home… nothing different.
Except the tissue box that had fallen over was never set right.
Ming Shao’s parents thought he had finally recovered. One evening after work, they went to the entrance of his office.
They had dinner plans with a well-matched family’s child later that evening, though everyone knew what it was really about.
At 5:30 p.m., Ming Shao appeared in the underground parking garage right on time.
His parents were about to approach him, but they saw Ming Shao get into his car without noticing them at all.
The car drove off into the evening rush hour, traffic slowing it down.
Ming Shao’s parents followed a few cars behind, keeping their distance.
Something wasn’t right with Ming Shao.
Whenever the car stopped during traffic, Ming Shao would take out his phone and snap pictures of the sky, as if sharing them with someone.
Ming Shao’s parents were full of doubts but didn’t dare interrupt.
The car moved slowly, finally arriving at… Shen Luo’s workplace at 6:30 p.m.
Ming Shao parked the car by the side of the road like a robot.
The Alpha stepped out, straightened his clothes, and leaned against a streetlamp, gazing up at the thirteenth floor.
People leaving work passed by in small groups, but Ming Shao seemed to be in another world.
After fifteen minutes, when the light in one of the thirteenth-floor offices turned off, Ming Shao finally looked down at his watch.
He turned, opened the passenger door as if welcoming someone in, even leaning over slightly to fasten an imaginary seatbelt.
Then he returned to the driver’s seat, turned on the headlights, and drove home.
Two minutes after Ming Shao turned and merged into traffic, the light in the same thirteenth-floor office that had just gone out was flicked back on by a slender hand.
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