After the Top Idol Omega and I Started Living Together - Chapter 43

Chapter 43

The sunset reflected on the water surface, and its fiery red color burned across the entire window.

Outside the window, pre-trimmed coconut leaves fell gracefully, their dark green cutting through the scarlet, giving the evening island an apocalyptic beauty.

Lu Zhao gazed at the person sitting before this backdrop.

Although the words sounded like a rushed continuation, Sheng Jingyu’s gaze held no hint of jest.

She forgot something.

What could she have forgotten that Sheng Jingyu remembered?

They indeed nearly crossed a line once and shared intimate moments.

But despite the saying of instant rapport, Lu Zhao and Sheng Jingyu, on the clear scale of time, only crossed a month’s distance.

She couldn’t recall, nor could she begin to recall.

Lu Zhao reflected on her continuous memories of recent days, and her eyes filled with confusion.

“What happened to your arm?”

As Lu Zhao sank into bewilderment, waving text interrupted her gaze.

Sheng Jingyu seemed to skip the topic and fixed her eyes on Lu Zhao’s arm.

“Huh?”

Another wave of confusion hit, and Lu Zhao followed Sheng Jingyu’s gaze downward.

She then noticed several scabbed scratches slanting across her right arm.

The dark red color smeared over that area looked somewhat alarming.

But Lu Zhao often got such scratches as a child, and bruises from dance practice were even worse, so she grew used to it and didn’t care: “Tch, just scratches, no big deal. I probably got them on the way here. I’ll find some ointment to apply.”

Her tone was too casual, but once noticed, the wounds on her arm stood out starkly.

Sheng Jingyu rarely showed concern, and her brows furrowed.

She picked up something from the bedside table and tossed it to Lu Zhao: “Catch it.”

“What?”

Lu Zhao barely saw Sheng Jingyu’s gesture before the object flew toward her.

Whether it was their tacit understanding or Lu Zhao’s quick reflexes, the item didn’t fall and landed firmly in her hands.

The herbal scent matched a memory of Lu Zhao’s, both being the bitter, concentrated aroma of extracted plants.

But one was a healing ointment, the other an intoxicating liquor.

Lu Zhao once smelled these scents on Sheng Jingyu’s body.

To shift her focus, Lu Zhao looked at the packaging of the item in her hands.

Brown, old-fashioned wrapping paper tightly encased the contents, making it hard to guess what was inside, yet somehow familiar.

Feeling its weight, Lu Zhao guessed: “Ointment?”

Sheng Jingyu nodded: “The cream inside works better than ordinary ointments and heals faster.”

Injuries from dance practice were routine, and it was rare for someone to notice her wounds beyond mere words.

Realizing this person was Sheng Jingyu, Lu Zhao felt an indescribable joy: “Thank you, Teacher.”

Examining it closely, Lu Zhao noticed the text on the packaging was in small, traditional calligraphy.

She read it slowly but noticed the address at the end.

“Nancheng… S City’s.” Lu Zhao read thoughtfully, “I remember this place. I went there as a child with Mother for treatment, and an old doctor prescribed medicine like this.”

Her memories overlapped with Sheng Jingyu’s experiences, and recalling Sheng Jingyu’s earlier question, Lu Zhao looked up in surprise: “Is one of that doctor’s apprentices in Teacher’s team?”

“Sort of, but not quite.” Sheng Jingyu answered lightly, somewhat vaguely, then added: “My team does have his apprentice, but these medicines came from the doctor himself.”

Sheng Jingyu disliked sharing her story with others, but the person before her was Lu Zhao.

Leaning against a soft pillow, she relaxed her tense body slightly and spoke to Lu Zhao unhurriedly: “I grew up around here, and my family knew him well. Later, in A City, he still supplied these medicines.”

Lu Zhao only heard the start of Sheng Jingyu’s words, and surprise appeared on her face: “Such a coincidence? Teacher and Jingyun are both from Nancheng!”

That was why she still remembered Nancheng.

Sheng Jingyu saw the excited gleam in Lu Zhao’s eyes and froze for a moment.

She felt both surprised and alarmed at Lu Zhao’s familiarity with the information “Jingyun” revealed to the world.

Lu Zhao’s fondness for “Jingyun” seemed greater than she imagined.

Would she one day discover her true identity?

Those silvery-gray eyes gazed deeply, and the surrounding scenery seemed to stretch far away.

The sunset through the floor-to-ceiling window bathed the entire space in dazzling orange, so radiant it made one fear losing it, yet destined to fade.

“Didn’t Teacher know?”

As Sheng Jingyu’s gaze deepened, a slightly puzzled exclamation broke her downward thoughts.

Lu Zhao didn’t overthink; she only assumed Sheng Jingyu’s surprise came from learning she and Jingyun were from the same hometown, so she explained: “Jingyun, like you, lived in Nancheng as a child and later moved to A City for development, so some of her songs have two versions.”

Pausing here, Lu Zhao added: “Both places must be important to her.”

Saying this, Lu Zhao stepped back and leaned against a nearby cabinet.

Her chin tilted slightly, and her gaze toward the sunset outside reflected a touch of brilliance.

Sheng Jingyu, at this moment, threw cold water on her: “Not necessarily.”

Lu Zhao frowned, retorting dismissively: “How does Teacher know?”

“Just a guess.” Sheng Jingyu’s answer was calm, her eyes lowered, gazing at the room once carefully arranged for her, “People always remember happy things and forget pain; it’s the primal will to survive.”

Her words sounded resilient, but Sheng Jingyu’s expression remained as calm as ever.

Her narration lacked sound, conveyed through gestures, as if lifeless.

Surviving wasn’t just about unyielding resilience.

There was also a cold indifference called numbness.

This wasn’t the first time Lu Zhao sensed this fleeting alienation in Sheng Jingyu, as if she stood outside the world.

Yet, she should be bathed in sunlight, living vibrantly amidst a flourish of flowers.

“That’s not right.” Lu Zhao’s voice was firm as she stepped toward Sheng Jingyu.

Sheng Jingyu, momentarily confused, looked up at Lu Zhao’s approaching figure.

At that angle, Lu Zhao reached out, placing her separated fingers on either side of Sheng Jingyu’s lips.

Gently pressing, Sheng Jingyu felt her slightly pursed lips being lifted into a faint smile.

The soft, warm fingertips rested against her lips, and with a slight turn of her head, she could kiss Lu Zhao’s fingers.

Then lightly bite them, hooking her tongue to hold them.

“Teacher, smile; you’ll look much prettier.”

Lu Zhao’s shadow loomed over Sheng Jingyu’s head, and her voice drifted to Sheng Jingyu’s ears.

Her amber eyes curved slightly, filled with clear yet mischievous laughter.

Sheng Jingyu’s eyes flickered, as if waking from a dream.

She looked at Lu Zhao, forgetting her usual aloofness, her tone slightly teasing: “Not pretty now?”

“Pretty!” Lu Zhao nodded affirmatively, sparing no praise, “Teacher is super, super beautiful Omega!”

As the words left her mouth, Lu Zhao paused.

Though it was her first time saying this to Sheng Jingyu, it felt strangely familiar.

The sunset slowly lost its fervor, and the faded orange was gradually swallowed by darkness.

As night fell and lights flickered, a bizarre glimmer flashed in Lu Zhao’s mind, and she suddenly realized she truly forgot something.

Her once-light gaze turned serious, and the amber settled.

Her fingers rested at the corner of Sheng Jingyu’s lips, warm and ambiguous.

Sheng Jingyu noticed Lu Zhao seemed to realize something and watched her subtly.

“Was it something I forgot at the bar that night?”

Very seriously, Lu Zhao asked.

Sheng Jingyu’s expression shifted, denying directly: “No.”

Lu Zhao, still confused and frustrated by knowing she forgot something but unable to recall, asked: “Then what?”

Rarely, Sheng Jingyu showed irritation.

As if refusing to talk, she raised her hand and tapped her phone: “Figure it out yourself.”

The two days and nights on the island passed quickly, and soon Lu Zhao and Sheng Jingyu boarded a private plane.

After sleeping on the plane, when Lu Zhao opened her eyes, the rising sun pierced her just-awakened vision.

The morning light was faint, illuminating the earth and sky cleanly and anew.

Though only days had passed, the roadside greenery visibly doubled in lushness.

The car entered the villa district, where rustling green leaves clustered, and the red roofs of villas peeked intermittently.

As the driver stopped at the villa’s entrance, Lu Zhao eagerly carried the jar she held the whole way and walked toward the villa.

The shells clinked, as crisp as Lu Zhao’s voice: “Chenchen, come quick! See what good stuff I brought you!”

But this time, Lu Zhao didn’t receive Chenchen’s enthusiastic welcome.

The room was unusually quiet, and Chenchen stood in the living room, smiling politely at Lu Zhao, while on the sofa nearby sat an elderly man in a suit, dignified and aged.

Lu Zhao froze instantly, blurting out: “Grandpa, why are you here?”

This old man was none other than Qin Xi’s father, Qin Xingjue.

Though the Qin family lacked the century-old wealth of the Lu family, Qin Xingjue built the now-renowned Qin Corporation in A City and nationwide from scratch.

The old man chuckled, gripping his cane: “After such a thing, shouldn’t I come check on you?”

Saying this, Qin Xingjue turned to Lu Zhao, still at the entrance, his dark eyes sharp as an eagle’s.

He sized up his granddaughter, noting her proper attire and good spirits, and said: “Not bad, you’ve grown bold, stirring up a storm in the city, then hiding away for peace, and even bringing back this jar of stuff.”

“It’s for Chenchen.” Lu Zhao hugged the heavy jar in her arms, speaking unfazed, “They tried to harm me repeatedly; I can’t just stay silent and let them bully me. Even a rabbit bites when cornered.”

Qin Xingjue laughed at this, the intensity in his eyes easing by a third: “That makes sense.”

Lu Zhao’s expression remained unchanged, and she asked: “Grandpa, don’t you usually stay out of my affairs?”

“Grandpa visiting his granddaughter isn’t a crime!” Qin Xingjue didn’t tolerate defiance, then glared, “I came two days ago, found no one, didn’t see you, and stared at this little assistant of yours for half a day. Only then did I learn from her that my granddaughter went abroad to relax.”

People usually visited Qin Xingjue this way, not the other way around.

He was quite displeased, huffing as he scolded: “As a granddaughter, you made Grandpa come three times. So precious, aren’t you?”

If one were to say whose temper Lu Zhao inherited, it could only be Qin Xingjue’s.

Both were stubborn as oxen, neither yielding to the other, nor able to sway each other.

When words didn’t align, Lu Zhao gave up.

She placed the jar on a nearby table and showed Qin Xingjue her unscathed self: “Well, now you’ve seen me here; you can go back.”

The cane tapped the floor with a “thud-thud,” and Qin Xingjue snapped: “Little rascal, now you’re shooing me away!”

He didn’t dwell on her words today, raising his hand and gesturing: “Little Nian.”

With Qin Xingjue’s words, a girl walked past Lu Zhao, saying, “Grandpa Qin.”

Her jet-black hair flowed like spilled ink, her skin fair as snow.

A light blue floral dress hem stopped just above her knees, revealing slender, graceful legs.

She wasn’t strikingly beautiful, but the softness in her features gave her a gentle air.

At a glance, Lu Zhao knew this girl was a cherished treasure raised delicately by her family, and a high-ranking Omega at that.

Alert, Lu Zhao heard Qin Xingjue’s voice: “This is Wu Nianchen from Nancheng Construction, Miss Wu. She’s at Qin Corporation to learn this week. I brought her along today for you two to meet.”