Chapter 50: A Guilty Conscience

In the kitchen, Zhou Jingchuan muttered something, and the massive creature obediently stopped.

“Don’t be afraid, it won’t bite.”

Zhou Jingchuan strode over, his sleeves rolled up to the elbows, revealing pale, cool skin—fair yet alluring.

He reached out and took the pillow from Tang Xi’s hands.

A white Samoyed obediently squatted in front of Tang Xi, wearing an expression full of endearing innocence.

“There are some meat jerky on the table. Feed it two pieces, and it’ll cling to you in no time.”

Tang Xi was still a bit nervous; after all, this Samoyed was quite large. Yet its big, round eyes fixed unwaveringly on the beef jerky as her hand moved to offer the treats, as if the entire world consisted only of those morsels.

She carefully placed two pieces before the dog.

The Samoyed lowered its head, curling its tongue, swallowing both pieces. Still unsatisfied, it looked at Tang Xi with pleading eyes.

“No, you’ve eaten too much today,” Zhou Jingchuan said mercilessly as he took the bag of beef jerky away.

The Samoyed whimpered softly, casting a helpless glance at Tang Xi, its tail wagging furiously as if powered by a motor.

Unable to resist, Tang Xi negotiated, “How about one last piece?”

For her sake, the Samoyed was given one more piece of beef jerky.

After finishing, it settled by Tang Xi’s legs, constantly “smiling” at her in a goofy way.

The dog and its owner couldn’t be said to resemble each other; they seemed entirely unrelated.

Tang Xi reached out to stroke its head, and it eagerly pressed its upper body into her arms, furry and warm, nudging and snuggling.

It was the fool who could be won over by just two pieces of beef jerky from the landlord—no doubt about it.

“How old is it?” Tang Xi asked the man busy in the kitchen.

“I’ll ask in a moment.”

“You don’t own it?”

“A foreign friend raised it but had to return home and couldn’t take the dog. So, they gave it to me,” Zhou Jingchuan said, turning off the range hood as he spoke.

“Does it have a name?” Tang Xi gently petted the Samoyed, feeling sorry for it having lost its owner.

“It used to have a foreign name,” Zhou Jingchuan replied. “When in Rome, do as the Romans do—why don’t you give it a new name?”

Suddenly burdened with this important task, Tang Xi felt quite pressured.

After a moment’s thought, she said, “How about calling it Xiao Qi?”

Zhou Jingchuan paused, seemingly lost in thought, but soon he lightly curved his lips. “Alright, Xiao Qi it is.”

“Xiao Qi, from now on, your name is Xiao Qi,” Tang Xi repeated impatiently, holding the Samoyed’s head.

After playing with Xiao Qi for a while, Tang Xi stood up and moved to the kitchen doorway.

Although she came to have a meal, sitting around too long felt inappropriate.

“Need any help?” she asked the man standing at the counter.

Because he was so tall, the counter was designed to be unusually high.

At home, the kitchen counter was perfectly suited to her height.

Modern developers were truly meticulous, even considering such details.

“There is something you could help with,” Zhou Jingchuan turned and extended his left hand. “Could you help me take off my watch?”

Tang Xi immediately stepped forward, one hand gripping his wrist, the other searching for the clasp.

But the watch was custom-made, with a unique clasp unlike anything she had seen before.

She wanted to ask the owner for help but feared he might think her clumsy.

As Tang Xi bent her head to examine the watch, Zhou Jingchuan looked down at her.

Perhaps due to haste, her profile was flushed pink, like the delicate bloom on a peach’s surface. Her rounded earlobes bore a faint blush.

Bending forward revealed the smooth curve of her neck in full view.

Her hair was tied in a casual bun, with soft wisps framing her face, playful and charming.

Her two gentle hands brushed against his skin now and then, sending thrilling shivers through him.

“It’s undone,” Tang Xi breathed a sigh of relief.

Zhou Jingchuan exhaled deeply as well.

Her actions carried no hint of seduction or flirtation; on the contrary, she was careful to maintain propriety.

But to a man troubled by doubts, even the slightest touch could be magnified a thousandfold.

Unluckily for him, he was precisely such a man.

“Where should I put it?” Tang Xi held the priceless steel watch delicately.

“In the bedroom, thank you.”

Thinking it might be inappropriate to wander freely through a man’s bedroom, she quickly placed the watch down and was about to leave.

Just as she turned, she noticed a book on the bedside table, beneath which lay a drawing.

The sketch was done in ordinary pencil, but only the lower half was visible.

Strangely, Tang Xi found the drawing very familiar.

As she moved closer for a better look, a shadow suddenly blocked her view.

“Tang Xi,” he called her name.

She was momentarily dazed; he usually addressed her as Miss Tang.

“The soup is ready, please help me taste it,” Zhou Jingchuan said softly, his lowered gaze carrying a melodious echo in the quiet room.

A faint scent of sandalwood drifted in the bedroom, though no sandalwood items were visible.

The subtle fragrance seemed to mingle with his own aroma, entwining around her.

“Okay,” Tang Xi hurriedly turned and left the bedroom.

Watching her retreating figure, Zhou Jingchuan picked up the drawing beneath the book, glanced at it, and then tucked it into a drawer.

It depicted a massive banyan tree, with a boy wearing sneakers sitting among the branches.

However, the boy’s face was blacked out, leaving his features indistinguishable.

Back in the kitchen, Tang Xi pointed at the clay pot on the stove. “Is it this one?”

It was a common winter melon and pork rib soup, milky white in color, emitting the rich aroma of pure meat.

The broth was flavorful, richly infused with bone essence, a hint of sweetness balancing the saltiness perfectly.

Truly a masterful craft.

At the dining table, Zhou Jingchuan ladled a bowl of soup for Tang Xi.

She had assumed he was from Harbor City and would cook Cantonese cuisine, but the shredded pork in Beijing sauce and stir-fried mixed vegetables were authentic Beijing dishes.

Not only that, the flavors were especially genuine—even she, a native of the capital, praised them enthusiastically.

“Mr. Zhou, I’ve always been curious—you're from Harbor City, so how do you speak such perfect Beijing dialect?”

She had overheard Zhou Jingchuan talking with a friend in Beijing, speaking with an impeccable local accent.

So authentic that even locals would find no fault.

“Do you want to learn Cantonese?” Zhou Jingchuan didn’t answer her question directly.

“I do, but I’m afraid I won’t be able to pick it up.”

“I’ll teach you.”

Tang Xi dared not accept; a big shot like him was busy with countless affairs—who had time to tutor?

She took it as a joke.

After the meal, Tang Xi volunteered to wash the dishes.

“There’s a dishwasher,” Zhou Jingchuan smiled. “Xiao Qi must be hungry. The dog food is in its room, the blue package.”

Xiao Qi was clever; seeing her head toward the dog’s room, it knew mealtime was coming and eagerly followed behind.

Not knowing Xiao Qi’s appetite, Tang Xi scooped out one spoonful and asked, “Is this enough?”

Xiao Qi shook its head.

She scooped a second spoonful. “Enough?”

Still no.

So there was a third, then a fourth, until her hand was stopped. Looking up, she met Zhou Jingchuan’s somewhat exasperated gaze.

“Its previous English name was Greedy.”

Translated simply: Glutton.