Chapter Nine: A Flutter of the Heart

“Dad, Mom, come look—my little sister’s drawing is so ugly!” An’an’s young face was full of disdain for Duoduo’s model.

Hearing the commotion, Cui Hao was the first to walk over to the children, while Tan Zhen moved unhurriedly, holding Zhou Xiaoqi’s hand as they made their way over. Before they could reach the group, Cui Hao’s gentle voice floated over: “You’re the older brother, you should be considerate to your sister. If there’s something wrong with her drawing, you should tell her, not just criticize her. Do you understand?” Seeing the clear look of dislike on his son’s face, Cui Hao smiled helplessly, speaking to An’an as if reasoning with an adult.

Standing behind them, Zhou Xiaoqi watched Cui Hao’s back. Just from his posture and his voice, she could picture how gentle this man was in that very moment.

“Xiaoqi, come sit here. You start drawing first; once I settle these two, I’ll join you.” Tan Zhen’s attentiveness only made Zhou Xiaoqi feel even more awkward.

Zhou Xiaoqi didn’t respond, but fortunately Tan Zhen wasn’t one to fuss over such details. Zhou Xiaoqi pulled over a stool to sit and prepare her paints, only to realize at some point she had ended up right beside Cui Hao. She offered him a polite smile before turning to her own work.

“Why did you choose Doraemon?” Cui Hao always seemed to appear so easily when others least expected it.

Startled by his sudden question, Zhou Xiaoqi almost jumped. Cui Hao seemed to notice he had surprised her, so he didn’t rush her for an answer. He simply watched her, waiting patiently.

“When I was little, I watched Doraemon all the time. I always thought he was magical. Whenever Nobita was in trouble, Doraemon was always by his side, and whatever Nobita needed, he could pull out from that amazing pocket.” As Zhou Xiaoqi spoke, her head was bowed, her hand busy with color, her long hair veiling half her face. There was a faint trace of sorrow in her voice.

Cui Hao reached over and took her right hand, the one she was painting with. “Your sleeve’s about to dip into the paint. Let me roll it up for you.”

She looked up, their eyes meeting. Both of them harbored unresolved thoughts. When a mistake first takes root, should it be allowed to grow or be cut off at once?

“Thank you...” Zhou Xiaoqi was noticeably tense, hastily pulling her hand away and returning her focus to her artwork.

“Honey, come here a second. An’an and Duoduo’s drawings are finished—can you take them to the owner for a coat of spray varnish?” Tan Zhen couldn’t help but act coquettish toward Cui Hao. It’s often said that women who know how to be sweet are the luckiest, and it was no wonder such a lovely woman had captured Cui Hao’s heart.

“Alright.” No matter what happened, Cui Hao always handled things calmly. In this little roadside stall, the couple were hard to miss, both of them strikingly good-looking.

After Cui Hao left, only Zhou Xiaoqi, Tan Zhen, and the two oblivious children remained. The earlier episode seemed to have made no impression on Tan Zhen. “Xiaoqi, come to my house whenever you’re free, don’t be shy. I truly enjoy your company.”

The more sincere Tan Zhen was, the more Zhou Xiaoqi felt sullied by her own thoughts. Tan Zhen’s straightforwardness only highlighted the pettiness of her own mind.

“Yes, alright. I’ll visit if there’s a chance.” At that moment, Zhou Xiaoqi resolved to cut off all contact with Cui Hao, whatever the reason. She understood she had developed feelings for him, and precisely because of that, she knew this was a mistake from the very start. Since it was wrong, it shouldn’t be allowed to continue and hurt anyone. After all, everyone was still living happily, each on their original path.

“Mommy, Mommy, I’m sleepy. I want to go home to bed.” Duoduo, in her sweet childish voice, snuggled into Tan Zhen’s arms. It was late for the children, and fatigue showed clearly on their faces.

Earlier, Zhou Xiaoqi had been so flustered by Cui Hao and his wife’s presence that she hadn’t really looked at Duoduo. She was an adorable little girl, dressed in a pink dress with a dainty bun in her hair—Tan Zhen was clearly skilled with her hands. With fair skin like her mother’s, it was obvious Duoduo would be a beauty when she grew up, inheriting the best features of both parents. For her age she was already quite tall, hinting at long legs in the future.

When Cui Hao returned and saw his daughter’s heavy eyelids, he gently took Duoduo from Tan Zhen’s arms and looked apologetically at Zhou Xiaoqi. “The kids are tired, so we’ll take them home first. Are you finished with your drawing? Do you want to come with us? I brought the car and can give you a ride.”

“No, thank you. I’m not done yet. You go ahead—I’ll call a cab when I’m finished.” Zhou Xiaoqi declined at once, eager to calm her restless, uneasy heart.

“Alright, take care on your way back.” Cui Hao offered a considerate reminder as he left.

Love is the one thing in this world that can never be controlled. You never know when it will come or when it will fade away. Love is like a drug—once tasted, it’s impossible to quit.

Watching their departing figures, Zhou Xiaoqi sat back down and continued painting her Doraemon. They say you can’t focus on two things at once, and as she painted while lost in thought, the Doraemon she finished was—unsurprisingly—quite ugly. Yet in its ugliness, there was a peculiar charm.