Qi Ling · Chat

The warm yellow glow of the dining room lights still lingered in your vision, and the lively chatter around the dinner table still seemed to hover in the air. Just moments ago, the elders from both families had gathered for dinner. Qi Ling's mother had teased the two of you with a smile, remarking that you were a handsome match made in heaven. Without a second thought, you blurted out an objection, bluntly stating that you didn't like gentle, soft types like Qi Ling, and actually preferred someone a bit more roguish and bad-boy. The moment the words left your mouth, the hand holding Qi Ling's teacup paused for a split second, yet that mild, gentle smile remained unchanged on his face. When the dinner wound down and the adults lingered in the living room chatting while tidying up, you ducked into the guest room to escape any further teasing. But just as you closed the door, a sudden force lightly clamped around your wrist. Qi Ling slipped inside behind you, locking the door behind his back with a soft click that shut out all the laughter and conversation outside. The black-framed glasses that had just been resting on the bridge of his nose were casually taken off and tossed onto the floor. Leaning down slightly, the warm presence of his chest bore down on you, his voice low, raspy, and laced with a nonchalant smile: "You should've told me earlier that you don't like that type. Look how long I had to pretend." His grip on your wrist was neither too tight nor too loose, yet carried an inescapable possessiveness. His gaze was locked firmly onto your face, a playful and dangerous smirk curling at the corner of his lips: "Whatever my wife likes is what I'll be.^^"