8: Chapter 8 is available if you'd like.

"Hummm—"

The plug was connected to the power outlet, and Huang Mao held the so-called "old-fashioned high-power" hairdryer in his hand, testing the temperature of the air.

Leng Qingxuan sat cross-legged on the long-pile carpet, tilting her head slightly to look at the dark gray hairdryer with its streamlined, high-tech design and even negative ion hair-care function, her expression somewhat subtle.

"Um... Huang Mao?"

"Hm?" Huang Mao stood behind the sofa, his fingers already gently inserted into her damp hair.

"Is this what you called the very heavy, very old-fashioned hairdryer on the top shelf of the storage cabinet?" Leng Qingxuan pointed at the obvious logo of a high-end brand on the body of the machine, "This... it feels obviously new and light."

The air was quiet for a second.

Huang Mao didn't change his expression, not even pausing the motion of sectioning her hair: "Is that so? Maybe I remembered wrong. After all, I've never paid much attention to these material possessions; as long as it can blow air, it's fine."

"Liar." Leng Qingxuan muttered softly, though the corners of her mouth quietly curved up, "You are clearly just..."

"Just what?"

"Just wanting to take advantage of me, wanting to touch my hair." Leng Qingxuan huffed, and although she didn't spare him with her words, her body was very honest, not pulling away, but instead adjusting her sitting posture to be more comfortable.

"My hair is very precious; usually, only my exclusive hairstylist can touch it."

"Fine, fine, fine, so do I have to kowtow to you in gratitude?"

Huang Mao chuckled and turned on the switch.

A gentle, warm breeze poured out, accompanied by a low humming sound.

It didn't have the harsh noise she had imagined; instead, it was like a kind of white noise that put one's mind at ease.

Huang Mao's technique was very professional.

This was thanks to his mother, who had a bit of obsessive-compulsive disorder and had trained him to do all sorts of chores since he was a child, even including how to blow-dry the Golden Retriever they used to keep at home—although the subject was different, the principle was generally the same.

His fingers were slender and strong, his fingertips warm, passing through her slightly cool hair and gently massaging Leng Qingxuan's scalp.

That sensation made Leng Qingxuan couldn't help but shrink her neck.

It was too comfortable.

In that huge but cold home, her mother would only ever stare at her report card and etiquette rules, and her father was so busy she couldn't even catch a glimpse of him.

As for the servants, they would only respectfully carry out orders; there had never been such a touch that carried warmth.

This feeling of being cared for, of being looked after, was like a warm current flowing from her scalp all the way into her heart.

"...Is the pressure okay?" Huang Mao's voice was mixed in with the sound of the wind, sounding somewhat hazy.

"Mm... it's alright, passably so." Leng Qingxuan closed her eyes, like a cat being scratched in a spot that itched, her voice lazy and soft.

Huang Mao stood behind her, looking down from above.

This angle was, for him, a double test of "heaven and hell."

Because Leng Qingxuan was sitting cross-legged, the neckline of that loose black T-shirt was already large, and now it was sliding even further to one side with her movements.

Looking down from Huang Mao's perspective.

First to come into view was that slender, fair neck, then the exquisite, deep collarbone hollow.

Further down...

The black fabric hung loosely, revealing a large expanse of dizzyingly snow-white skin.

And in that expanse of snow-white, with her breathing, the undulating curves were vaguely visible.

Although he couldn't see the key points, that hazy feeling of "holding the pipa partially covering the face" was, instead, even more fatal than straightforward nudity.

It was an abyss.

An abyss that could swallow up all of a man's reason.

Huang Mao felt his Adam's apple roll uncontrollably.

"Do not look at what is improper, do not look at what is improper..." He silently recited a mantra for clearing his mind in his heart, but his gaze still disobeyed him, drilling into that deep neckline.

This was too much of a test for his willpower.

Did this girl really not understand, or was she doing it on purpose?

To distract himself, Huang Mao decided to find a topic.

"Speaking of which," he asked while parting her long hair to let the warm air blow into the roots, "you asked me earlier why I live alone in such a big house?"

Leng Qingxuan was immersed in the comfortable massage and responded in a daze upon hearing this: "Mm... the location of this house is very good, it's close to school, and it's a detached house."

"Theoretically, the rent shouldn't be cheap, right? If it was bought, then it's even more exaggerated."

Although she lacked common sense in daily life, she still had a concept of money.

"This house was bought by my parents." Huang Mao's tone was flat, as if he were talking about buying a head of cabbage, "It was bought a few years ago; at that time, housing prices weren't as outrageous as they are now."

"Then what about your parents?"

"Them? Workaholics." Huang Mao shrugged, "Our family also has a large flat a bit further out in the suburbs, closer to their company."

"This house was originally intended to be a marital home for when I graduated and got married, but it turned out I got into a university here, so they let me move in first, euphemistically calling it 'adapting to independent living early,' but in reality, they just found me an eyesore at home, disturbing their world of two."

"Marital, marital home?" The tips of Leng Qingxuan's ears turned red inexplicably as she grasped a strange focal point.

"Yeah. But looking at the situation, I reckon it'll probably just sit there." Huang Mao laughed at himself, "So, I'm not some rich second-generation kid; at most, I'm just an ordinary citizen with a little bit of family assets."

"My parents taught me to be thrifty since I was young, and I've gotten used to it. Even after starting university, my monthly discretionary living expenses are quite generous, but I still spend relatively little."

"I don't want to go out and play, I don't want to overindulge in food and drink, and I have no interest in dressing myself up. If you want to talk about more expensive consumption, it's probably just limited to mobile phones, computers, and games."

"But even in these areas, I don't have very high requirements for specs; as long as it works, it's fine. I usually wait for sales to buy games, and I spend very little on microtransactions in online games."

"For example, look at this T-shirt of mine; I bought it on Pinduoduo for 19.9, free shipping, and I've worn it for two years and still can't bear to throw it away. The one you're wearing is from the same shop."

Leng Qingxuan opened her eyes and looked down at the soft-textured T-shirt she was wearing.

19.9?

Wearing it, she couldn't feel any sense of cheapness at all; instead, it had a faint sense of comfort.

"Then you are quite... special." Leng Qingxuan said softly, "As for my side of the family, although my mother is extremely strict with me—curfews, friends, even what clothes I wear every day—she manages it all."

"But the only thing is, when it comes to spending money, as long as it's not too outrageous, she basically doesn't care how much I swipe my card."

Speaking of this, she laughed at herself: "Maybe in her eyes, as long as she gives enough money, she has fulfilled her responsibility as a mother."

"That's why I bought so many figures and merchandise, stacking my room full... It seems like only those things truly belong to me."

Huang Mao's hand paused.

He looked at the girl in front of him who looked bright and beautiful on the outside but was actually riddled with holes on the inside, and his heart felt inexplicably blocked.

"Well, at least that won't be the case from now on."

Huang Mao turned the hairdryer back on, his voice softening a bit, "Since you've moved in, this place is your temporary safe haven."

"Although I can't give you an unlimited black card like your mother, at least I can do things like tonight—let you eat hot food that suits your tastes, have someone hand you a towel when you take a shower, and have someone serve you when you dry your hair."

Leng Qingxuan's heart skipped a beat.

She subconsciously raised her head, wanting to see Huang Mao's expression at this moment.

Because the movement was a bit large, and her legs were a bit numb from sitting cross-legged for so long, her body uncontrollably leaned backward.

"Careful."

Huang Mao was quick-eyed and fast-handed, grabbing her shoulders to steady her.

The distance between the two instantly narrowed.

Leng Qingxuan tilted her head back, her long hair cascading behind her like a waterfall.

And because of this backward-leaning posture, the neckline of that already loose T-shirt completely lost its final shielding effect.

Under the effect of gravity, the fabric slid downward.

The "abyss" that was originally only vaguely visible was now almost completely exposed to view.

Those two mounds of delicate, soft flesh squeezed out, that deep and charming cleavage, and even the edge of that faint pink lace were all exposed without reservation right in the center of Huang Mao's field of vision.

High-definition, uncensored, close-up.

Huang Mao's breathing instantly stalled.

This time, he even forgot to recite "do not look at what is improper," his gaze as if glued on by superglue, nailed tightly onto that expanse of snow-white.

This girl... he had underestimated her a bit before.

And the shape was unscientifically perfect.

Time seemed to stand still at this moment.

Only the hairdryer was still tirelessly "humming," the warm air it blew brushing over that area of skin, raising a layer of fine goosebumps.

Leng Qingxuan was originally still in a state of being moved, but suddenly felt that the atmosphere was a bit off.

She followed Huang Mao's stiff gaze and slowly looked down.

Then, she saw the completely open neckline on her chest, and the spring scenery inside that was almost about to jump out.

"..."

If it were half an hour ago, she would definitely have screamed, jumped up, and slapped Huang Mao.

But now.

Perhaps it was because of the warmth brought by the conversation just now.

Perhaps it was because her back had already been seen in the bathroom, creating a sort of "what the hell" mentality.

Or perhaps... it was because the thought in her heart of wanting to prove her own charm was acting up again.

Leng Qingxuan did not scream.

She just quickly sat up straight, raised her hand to pull the neckline, and covered that spring scenery again.

Her cheeks turned red at a speed visible to the naked eye, like a ripe peach.

Huang Mao also came back to his senses, withdrew his hand and gaze like he had been electrocuted, coughed awkwardly, and turned off the hairdryer.

"Cough... well, the hair is almost dry."

He stood up, wanting to leave, wanting to escape from this crime scene filled with a seductive atmosphere.

"Hey."

Leng Qingxuan's voice suddenly came from behind.

Very light, with a trace of trembling, but exceptionally clear.

Huang Mao stopped his footsteps without turning back: "What's wrong? Is there anywhere else that isn't dry?"

The sound of clothing rubbing came from behind.

Leng Qingxuan seemed to have stood up.

She looked at Huang Mao's stiff back, bit her lip, a flash of shyness in her eyes, but more of it was a kind of desperate boldness.

"Actually..."

She took a deep breath, her voice as thin as a mosquito's, but it sounded like a thunderclap exploding in Huang Mao's ear.

"If you really want to see... it's not impossible."

"Showing you a little... is also okay."