Chapter Twenty-One: Which One of Them Will You Choose

Dai Yawen spoke with some excitement, “He’s not as handsome as the rumors say, but he’s still really handsome! This kind of successful, wealthy, mature man is just perfect for girls like us who are just starting to have romantic fantasies.”

Zhang Wen picked up where Dai Yawen left off, “I heard He Zheyu is almost thirty. Isn’t that a bit old? I think someone like Senior Zhao Qingwu from the International Business School is more suitable for us. He’s just as talented and good-looking as He Zheyu.”

Dai Yawen and Zhang Wen debated for a while, unable to reach an agreement, and finally turned to Mo Qinghan, who had been silently watching their argument without saying a word. “Qinghan, if you had to choose between He Zheyu and Zhao Qingwu, who would you pick?”

Mo Qinghan was caught off guard by the sudden question; her heart tightened, her hand stopped flipping through the pages, and she straightened her slightly bent waist. Her brows knitted gently as she glanced at the two girls sitting on the bed, staring at her expectantly, waiting for her answer. She bit her cherry lips lightly and thought for a moment, her lively eyes shifting slightly, then answered softly, “That’s not a valid scenario. Besides, isn’t Yurou currently dating Senior Zhao?”

Dai Yawen and Zhang Wen grew even more interested. Zhang Wen pressed further, “Is He Yurou really with Senior Zhao now? Have they gotten that far? Tell us a bit!”

Mo Qinghan rolled her eyes at the two, though she did it behind her book so they didn’t notice. She closed the book, let out a long sigh, and said, “Why don’t you ask Yurou yourself? I’m not always with them, how would I know? Are you two ever going to stop? Lights out, time to sleep.”

Seeing Mo Qinghan’s attitude, they realized they wouldn’t get any answers, so Dai Yawen turned off the light and lay down to sleep.

Lying under the covers, Mo Qinghan kept her eyes closed, but her mind was still turning over the question the two had just asked: “Would you choose Zhao Qingwu or He Zheyu?” She placed a hand on her chest. If He Zheyu weren’t Sanye, weren’t the one who made the contract with her, would she have chosen Zhao Qingwu? Many different possibilities floated through Mo Qinghan’s mind, and before drifting into sleep, who knows if she ever found a clear answer.

Early in the morning, He Yurou, still lying in bed, was awakened by a knocking at the door. Bleary-eyed and annoyed, she asked, “Who is it?”

He Zheyu’s voice came from outside, “It’s me.”

He Yurou immediately recognized the familiar voice; her earlier annoyance vanished. “Uncle, what is it?”

“I’m not in a rush today, so I’ll take you to school. Hurry up, I’m waiting downstairs.”

He Yurou glanced at the clock on her bedside table—it was only 7 a.m. Her first class wasn’t until 10:20; she could go later. So she asked, “Can I refuse?”

He Zheyu’s cold voice came from outside, “You can try.” Then she heard his footsteps leaving.

He Yurou knew all too well what refusing would mean—consequences she couldn’t bear. As she dressed, she replied helplessly, “I’ll be right there.”

After breakfast, He Yurou slung her bag over her shoulder and was about to head out to He Zheyu’s car when Aunt Zhang, who was in the kitchen, handed her a thermal lunchbox, saying, “For Zheyu! He hasn’t eaten yet!”

He Yurou took the lunchbox, puzzled. “Since when did Uncle start eating breakfast at the office?” She stared at the box as she walked out the door.

Once in the car, she handed the lunchbox to He Zheyu, saying, “Aunt Zhang packed this for you.” Aunt Zhang had worked for the He family for twenty years, and everyone called her that.