7: Chapter 7 "Boyfriend Shirt" and "No Pants"

The air in the living room felt like it had turned into glue, becoming so thick it was hard to breathe.

Huang Mao sat on the sofa, his eyes fixed on the TV screen. A boring variety show was playing, featuring several celebrities laughing hysterically, but he didn't process a single word.

In his mind, the curve of that blindingly white back was still scrolling back and forth like a screensaver.

"Tap, tap, tap."

The sound of footsteps on wooden boards came from the stairs. They were light, carrying a hint of hesitation and doubt.

Huang Mao took a deep breath, adjusted his sitting posture, and tried his best to look like a high-ranking monk with a heart as still as water.

Leng Qingxuan had come down.

Her head was bowed, her hands twisting together like an elementary school student who had made a mistake and was waiting for a lecture from the head teacher.

To Huang Mao's surprise, she hadn't changed into pajamas or anything similar; instead, she had put back on that white hooded sweatshirt and denim shorts.

However, her current state could hardly be called presentable.

Because the sweatshirt had gotten wet in the bathroom earlier, dark water stains had soaked through in some places, and it clung to her body in a wrinkled mess. Her hair was wet and draped over her shoulders, with the ends still dripping, drenching a large patch of the fabric at her shoulders.

She looked like a cat that had just been fished out of a pond.

"Um..."

Leng Qingxuan walked to the side of the sofa. Her voice was as thin as a mosquito's buzz, and her eyes darted around, simply not daring to look at Huang Mao's face. "Just now... that..."

"What happened just now?"

Huang Mao turned his head with a look of pure confusion, his acting skills worthy of an Oscar. "Didn't I just hand you a towel and then come downstairs to watch TV? This variety show is pretty funny, haha."

Leng Qingxuan snapped her head up. A flash of bewilderment crossed her eyes, which had been misty with shame, but it quickly transformed into gratitude.

She knew how to take a hint and save face.

"Right... right! This variety show is pretty funny," she echoed dryly, even though the TV screen had just cut to an embedded advertisement.

The two glanced at each other and then quickly looked away.

That toe-curling sense of awkwardness was still there, but at least Huang Mao had forcibly patched over that thin barrier of embarrassment.

Leng Qingxuan breathed a sigh of relief. Her tense shoulders slumped, and she plopped down on the single-seater sofa furthest away from Huang Mao.

She grabbed a throw pillow and hugged it to her chest, resting her chin on its edge while her internal calculator started clicking away.

Even though that fall just now was disastrous and her posture was undignified...

But!

According to her analysis of ergonomics and sightlines, since she fell face down and was holding the bath towel underneath her, her key parts in the front were definitely in the safety zone.

As for her back...

A back isn't exactly something shameful to show! Isn't wearing a bikini at the beach about the same as this?

As long as I'm not embarrassed, the one who's embarrassed is someone else.

As long as I act like nothing happened, then nothing happened.

After Leng Qingxuan finished building up her mental defenses, her pale complexion finally regained a bit of color.

"Ahem."

Huang Mao cleared his throat, his gaze sweeping over her with a slight frown. "Are you planning to sleep in those?"

"Huh?" Leng Qingxuan froze for a moment and looked down at herself. "What's wrong with... these?"

"Setting aside the fact that you wore these all day outside," Huang Mao pointed at her soaked shoulders, "your hair isn't dry, and the water has made your clothes wet. Doesn't it feel uncomfortable clinging to your skin? You'll catch a cold easily."

Leng Qingxuan's face turned red again.

It was uncomfortable. Of course it was uncomfortable.

The cold, damp fabric clinging to her warm, post-shower skin felt like being wrapped in a layer of plastic wrap—slimy and disgusting.

"I... I can't help it."

She buried her face in the pillow, her voice muffled. "I only realized after I dried off that... I didn't bring any pajamas in my suitcase..."

"My other clothes are all pressed at the bottom of the trunk; I'd have to iron them after taking them out. Plus, my body isn't completely dry yet, and I don't want to get those nice clothes dirty."

She was truly a level-nine disaster at basic life skills.

Running away from home with a suitcase full of figures but no pajamas—only this young lady could pull off such a move.

Huang Mao sighed helplessly and stood up.

"Wait here."

He dropped those two words and turned to go upstairs.

Less than two minutes later, he came back down holding a black T-shirt.

"Here."

Huang Mao tossed the T-shirt to her. "I just bought this a couple of days ago. It's been washed once and hasn't been worn yet. It's pure cotton, breathable, and absorbs sweat. If you don't mind, you can make do with this as pajamas tonight."

Leng Qingxuan caught the garment.

It was a very ordinary black crew-neck T-shirt without any fancy patterns, but it looked very large.

She held the shirt and brought it close to her nose to sniff it.

It didn't have that pungent starch smell of new clothes, nor the fragrance of a mall; there was only the faint, fresh scent of laundry detergent—the smell of being dried in the sun.

It was very clean.

"I'm... I'm not that delicate," Leng Qingxuan mumbled, her fingers rubbing the soft cotton twice. "Thanks."

"Go change," Huang Mao sat back down on the sofa. "Take off those wet clothes; it's painful just looking at them."

Leng Qingxuan clutched the clothes and waddled back to the second floor like a penguin.

The first thing she did after entering the room was double-lock the door, even pulling the handle to confirm it was secure before she started changing.

Two minutes later.

Footsteps echoed from the second-floor hallway again.

Huang Mao instinctively looked up.

With that one look, he could no longer tear his gaze away.

If her fall earlier had been a form of impactful dynamic beauty, then the current Leng Qingxuan was pure, soul-striking static lethality.

That oversized black T-shirt would have just been loose on Huang Mao, but on the tall and slender Leng Qingxuan, it had turned directly into a mini-dress.

The wide collar slid to one side, revealing half of an exquisite, rounded shoulder and a section of fair, slender collarbone. The black fabric and snow-white skin formed an incredibly strong visual contrast—the white was radiant, the black profound.

The sleeves were excessively long, covering her palms and only revealing a few pink fingertips.

The most lethal part was her lower half.

The hem of the shirt draped down, just barely covering the tops of her thighs, creating the "Absolute Territory" of the "Missing Bottoms" look.

Those legs.

Straight, long, and well-proportioned.

There wasn't a hint of excess fat, and her knees showed a faint touch of pink. Under the warm yellow light of the living room, those legs looked like artworks carved from the finest mutton-fat jade, emitting a soft, lustrous glow.

She was barefoot on the wooden floor, her toes rounded and cute, curling slightly due to nervousness.

"This..."

Huang Mao felt his throat go dry and instinctively picked up the water glass on the table to take a sip.

What kind of top-tier leg-con fan service was this?

Was this something he could watch without paying?

Was this girl doing this on purpose?

Leng Qingxuan stood at the top of the stairs, looking down at Huang Mao.

She keenly captured the look of amazement and the momentary daze in Huang Mao's eyes.

She had seen that kind of look countless times at school.

But in those boys' eyes, she saw greed and lecherousness, whereas in Huang Mao's eyes... it was more of a simple appreciation, along with a bit of that "wanting to look but feeling too embarrassed to" awkwardness unique to boys.

—Actually, she couldn't read that much into it, but that was how it felt to her.

At this moment, a small flame called "competitiveness" suddenly flared up in Leng Qingxuan's heart.

She had humiliated herself so badly in the bathroom earlier, and he had seen her at her worst.

Now was a great chance to win back a round!

She thought back to those shoujo manga she had secretly read under her covers, remembering how the "bad women" in them manipulated the pure-hearted male leads.

As long as she displayed a bit of charm, she could make him turn red, make him flustered, and make him fall at her feet—or rather, her T-shirt!

"Hmph, tremble, mortal."

Leng Qingxuan shouted a chuunibyou slogan in her head.

She took a deep breath and tried hard to recall the poses from the manga.

First, the eyes should be hazy.

Second, the posture should be languid.

Finally, speak in a nonchalant yet seductive tone.

Thus, she didn't rush downstairs. Instead, she leaned against the stair railing, slightly lifting one foot, attempting to strike an S-curve pose.

She reached out with the hand hidden in her sleeve, gently brushed back her still-dripping wet hair from her ear, and looked at Huang Mao with "hazy" eyes.

"Hey, Huang Mao."

She deliberately lowered her voice, trying to create a mature, husky tone. "Isn't this shirt... a bit too big?"

As she spoke, she intentionally tugged at the collar, revealing more of her shoulder.

According to the script, Huang Mao's heart should be racing and he should be stammering, perhaps even with a nosebleed.

However.

Reality is often harsh.

Huang Mao put down his water glass. Not only did he not turn red, but he looked at her with the kind of kind eyes one would use for a silly daughter.

"It is a bit big, but it's pretty cute."

Huang Mao gave an honest evaluation. "Like a little kid who stole an adult's clothes to wear."

*Crack.*

Leng Qingxuan thought she heard the sound of something shattering in her heart.

Little kid?

Cute?

Do those two words have anything to do with "sexy," "seductive," or "goddess"?!

Her carefully designed "Charm Strike" was actually neutralized by the word "cute"? It was like hitting cotton with a max-level ultimate move—zero feedback!

"You... you really are!"

Leng Qingxuan instantly lost her composure, her languid and hazy aura vanishing. "Don't you think I'm very charming like this!"

She stomped down the stairs in a huff.

"Yes, yes, you're indeed very charming."

Huang Mao suppressed a laugh, though his eyes honestly lingered on her dazzling long legs for a few seconds. "And seriously, this style really suits you. You can wear this more often at home; it saves fabric."

"Pervert!"

Leng Qingxuan spat with a red face, but for some reason, she didn't feel much repulsion.

At least he kept looking.

This proved that this young lady's charm was still effective!

She walked to the side of the sofa and was about to sit down when Huang Mao called out to her.

"Don't sit there, sit here."

Huang Mao patted the carpet in front of him.

"Wha... what for?" Leng Qingxuan warily covered her chest. "What are you going to do to me? I'm warning you, even though I'm staying at your house, I've practiced... I've practiced Radio Gymnastics!"

"What are you thinking? Clear out that trash in your head."

Huang Mao pointed at her hair. "Water is running down your neck and into your clothes. That T-shirt is cotton; if it absorbs water and sticks to your back, you'll get a heat rash easily. Sit over here, I'll blow-dry your hair."

Leng Qingxuan was stunned.

Blow-dry her hair?

For her, those words carried a special meaning.

In that cold home of hers, aside from the servants when she was little, no one had ever blow-dried her hair for her.

Wasn't this kind of intimate thing something only couples did?

"No... no need."

She waved her hands in a bit of a panic. "I can do it myself. Where's the hair dryer?"

"The hair dryer is on the top shelf of the storage cabinet. Can you even reach it?" Huang Mao exposed the reality without mercy. "Besides, it's an old-fashioned high-power dryer. It's heavy. If you dry the back yourself, you'll have to keep your arm raised; you'll exhaust yourself."

"Am I really that delicate..."

"Alright, stop dawdling."

Huang Mao stood up, his tone leaving no room for argument. "Sit properly. Since I've taken you in, I have to make sure you don't fall ill on the first day. Then I'd have to serve you medicine, which is even more trouble."

After saying that, he didn't wait for Leng Qingxuan to refuse and turned toward the storage cubby next to the TV cabinet.

Leng Qingxuan looked at his back and bit her lip.

This feeling of being looked after like a child... didn't seem too bad?

She hesitated for two seconds and finally walked over obediently, sitting down on the plush carpet in front of the sofa.

The black hem of the shirt spread out on the carpet, and her two fair, long legs were pressed together to one side.

She hugged her knees like a cat waiting for its owner to brush its fur, leaving her back to the man who was rummaging for the hair dryer.

Her heart, once again, sped up uncontrollably.