Chapter 41: And So the Squirtle Put on Sunglasses

Zhang Shutong had always felt that he and Miss Gu belonged to two entirely different worlds.

This feeling became even more pronounced the moment he stepped into her bathroom.

Why on earth was someone's bathroom larger than his own bedroom?

The villa was styled in a Western aesthetic from the inside out, and the bathroom was decorated like a palace, complete with oil paintings hanging on the walls.

He switched on the crystal chandelier overhead, and the soft light filtered through the petal-like lamp shade, scattering gently across the floor without any harsh glare, making one feel simply like letting out a yawn.

The towel racks, faucets, and other fixtures were made of brass, entirely free of water stains, a testament to frequent and meticulous upkeep.

The first thing that caught the eye was a built-in bathtub positioned right against the window. Since her villa was built on elevated ground, one could presumably soak in the bath while admiring the lake below.

Naturally, Zhang Shutong had no intention of taking a bath; instead, he walked into the adjacent shower stall. The hot water ran on gas and heated up instantly, unlike the solar-powered setup at home where he always had to stand aside and fiddle with the showerhead for a good while.

The glass was frosted and hardly retained any water droplets. Zhang Shutong liked frosted glass—it offered the lightness of glass without sacrificing a sense of security. He closed his eyes in this hazy, warm little space as the hot water flowed like a stream over his entire body.

He finally started to feel warm.

It seemed to tell him that the freezing rainy night had drifted far away.

His body was relaxed, but his mind certainly was not.

For instance, after finishing his shower, he walked over to the mirror by the vanity and somewhat reluctantly picked up the hair dryer nearby.

He usually used this device to blow out keyboards that had gotten wet or to dry damp clothes, but he rarely used it on his hair.

He always left his hair half-dry after washing, letting the rest air-dry naturally. But this was inside a palace-like structure, and he would soon be meeting the princess of this palace. Zhang Shutong felt it was best not to leave droplets of water dripping with every step he took.

Once his body warmed up, his stomach began to rumble with hunger.

Next came eating a meal at the counter.

He called it a counter rather than a dining table because, in Gu Qiumian’s home, these were genuinely two different things. He was currently sitting at the L-shaped counter of the open kitchen, with a row of pendant lights hanging overhead, illuminating the bowl of noodles before him.

Song Nanshan had also finished his shower and was sitting on the sofa in the middle of the living room watching television, similarly clutching a bowl of noodles. He was entirely unconstrained, the slurping sound of his noodles occasionally drowning out the television, which was broadcasting a ball game of all things—heaven knows how old Song had managed to find that.

If circumstances permitted, Zhang Shutong had no doubt that the man would pop open a can of beer.

The arrival of the two men brought a bit of liveliness to the empty villa. The sound of light rain drifted from the darkness outside the window, while the interior was warm, with lights illuminating only the places that needed them... creating a somewhat cozy atmosphere.

Zhang Shutong was startled by the thought himself.

He had no idea how he could feel cozy in such a solemn, palace-like place, but the truth was just that. Which was actually better compared to his own home where only Detective Conan was played on repeat? Even he couldn't quite tell.

Though old Song was genuinely noisy and would let out a cheer whenever excitement struck, it was still somewhat better than a woman screaming upon discovering a murder scene in Conan, limited though that improvement might be.

So Zhang Shutong stopped dwelling on the question. He lowered his head and took a sip of the noodle soup. It tasted like rich broth, as if boiled from an old duck, but where would one find duck broth in the middle of the night? Did wealthy households keep this sort of thing on hand constantly?

Anyway, it tasted quite good.

After a thrilling operation, being able to calm down and savor a delicious bowl of noodle soup was a luxury. The noodles didn't matter, and the broth didn't matter; it wasn't about the extravagance of the food, but rather the ability to sit quietly here in the warmth, where the happiness welling up in one's heart was like tiny oil droplets floating in the soup—infinitesimal, yet endlessly multiplying.

The only problem was that someone always wanted to disturb Zhang Shutong as he tasted this bowl of happiness.

Yet that person was the owner of the villa, so he couldn't very well politely ask her to leave.

Gu Qiumian was sitting right across from him. The girl was wrapped in a burgundy velvet bathrobe, which made her skin look even fairer, her delicate collarbones faintly visible.

She had also just finished showering, and a mist of moisture and fragrance lingered in her dark hair. With every casual movement, she unintentionally exuded a charming allure—she was a young woman just beginning to blossom.

Gu Qiumian had casually twisted her medium-length hair to one side, sweeping her bangs back as well to reveal a smooth, flawless forehead. She was propping her chin in her hands while scrolling through her phone, as if this counter happened to have the best cell phone signal in the entire villa.

If she were merely scrolling through her phone, Zhang Shutong could still tolerate it. But from time to time, she would look away from the screen, glance over in his direction, and occasionally curl the corners of her lips, as if his table manners were utterly abysmal. She probably thought she was hiding it well, but Zhang Shutong noticed every bit of it.

It made him feel quite uncomfortable.

However, asking someone in their own home why she was sitting there watching him would seem rather dense, so Zhang Shutong simply pretended not to see and buried his head in his noodles.

Yet while he wished to avoid unnecessary trouble, Miss Gu was itching to pick a bone. Just as Zhang Shutong picked up his bowl to drink the soup, he saw her finally lose her patience and tap her phone down. The glass back of the iPhone made a crisp contact with the marble countertop, and the young girl glared at him:

"Is eating noodles all you know how to do?"

Zhang Shutong glanced at the television. "I don't watch ball games." If old Song had put on something else, he would have gone over to watch with him.

As he spoke, he picked up the fried egg resting atop the noodles and took a bite. The yolk was still runny, a testament to the superb culinary skills of Gu Qiumian's housekeeper.

After inspecting the fried egg, Zhang Shutong looked at Gu Qiumian, only to find that Gu Qiumian was also looking at the fried egg. She pouted, and because she was propping her chin with one hand, her petite lips were pushed slightly out of shape:

"Don't you have anything to say?"

"The noodles are delicious. Thanks."

"...Don't thank me, thank Aunt Wu!"

Despite saying that, her gaze grew even fiercer, every single word dropping like large raindrops hitting the ground.

Zhang Shutong knew she was somewhat prideful, merely saying "no need to thank me" on the surface, so he replied with high emotional intelligence that no, he still wanted to thank her;

To which Gu Qiumian blinked her dense eyelashes, suddenly deflating as she slumped over the table and muttered:

"Oh, are you like this because you got too much rain on you..."

"What?"

"You were already foolish to begin with, and now that you've been soaked, you're even dumber."

Hearing this, Zhang Shutong curled his lip. To think she considered him foolish—who was the one who had rushed into the rain in slippers and pajamas earlier?

They stared at each other and blinked, the more they looked, the more convinced they became that the other person was the truly foolish one.

"How did you know someone broke into the house?" Gu Qiumian asked again.

Zhang Shutong briefly shared his process of deduction with her. If Qingyi were here, his eyes would surely be shining with excitement, but Miss Gu was clearly no deduction fanatic. She listened quite earnestly, interjecting with a question from time to time, but by the time Zhang Shutong reached the most exciting part, she simply curled her lip and asked, "And then?" Zhang Shutong replied, "And then I sat right here and ate noodles." Gu Qiumian rolled her eyes, as if she had wanted to hear something far beyond that.

There was no helping it, though; real-life deductions were never as thrilling as those on television, and he was no professional detective. So Zhang Shutong sensibly kept his mouth shut and changed the subject:

"Does your family always keep rich broth on hand?"

"You think this kind of noodle is that good?"

"The broth is good."

"Aunt Wu is a wonderful cook. This duck has been simmering since the afternoon."

"Wait, this broth was your dinner?"

"Yeah," she said. "What else? Leftover dinner, of course."

Gu Qiumian explained with a cheerful mood:

"I didn't finish the soup in my bowl and was about to pour it out when you showed up, so it just happened not to go to waste."

Just as Zhang Shutong paused in his soup-drinking, she let out a hum and said, "See, I told you you were a fool, falling for that so easily. Which family uses just the little bit of soup left in a bowl to make noodles? There's a whole big pot of it left."

"Don't forget to take your cold medicine later," she added.

"No need for that."

"No way, I said take it, so you have to take it."

Zhang Shutong nodded. He never stubbornly argued over such trivial matters.

Actually, this was quite nice. He didn't ask Gu Qiumian how she felt after so many things happened tonight;

And Gu Qiumian never proactively brought up whether she was in a good mood or not.

However, as they chatted, Gu Qiumian suddenly stood up, leaned in close to his head, and sniffed. Before Zhang Shutong could react, she had already sat back down, smiling like a delicate flower:

"I was wondering why it looked like you hadn't washed your hair. Did you accidentally use conditioner?"

"That red bottle?"

"Yeah, that's conditioner. The blue bottle is shampoo, you dummy."

"..."

"Your hair is so greasy right now." Her shoulders shook with laughter.

As if she had just witnessed something comical—perhaps in the eyes of a Pokémon trainer, it was like seeing a Squirtle wearing sunglasses.

Zhang Shutong desperately wanted to point out that her bathroom had five or six different bottles lined up, all with English brand names that weren't even regular words; he couldn't be bothered to figure out which was which, so he had just grabbed the one that looked similar.

Speechless, he rubbed his hair and decisively skipped the topic.

Fortunately, Gu Qiumian was an excellent listener. No matter what he said, she would always listen and nod along.

By this time, the housekeeper had already retired to her room.

The man not far away was intently focused on the ball game, though his ears were perked up in secret.

The boy ate his noodles, occasionally setting his chopsticks down to swallow the food in his mouth before saying a few brief words;

The girl rested her chin in her hands, her legs swinging underneath the counter until one of her slippers slipped off, exposing a bare foot.

Zhang Shutong felt that this bowl of noodles was truly massive.

Despite the bowl not seeming particularly large, it gave the endless feeling that it would never be finished.

Just as he finished the very last drop of soup, old Song suddenly stood up, turned off the television, and called out to the two of them:

"I'm going to bed first. You two shouldn't chat too late,