Chapter Thirteen: Requesting a Lap Pillow

She knew Zhao Chen was likely no ordinary person, aware of his exceptional insight, but she had never imagined he could code with such lightning speed and overwhelming momentum! That typing speed, that fluency, that level of concentration was even more astonishing than those technical experts in her company earning millions annually!

This was hardly just “helping a friend test game UI.” It was clearly the caliber of a top hacker or architect!

Zhao Chen seemed completely immersed in his world of code, oblivious to everything around him. The stream of code on the screen flowed like a rushing river, never pausing for a moment.

His eyes were sharp as a hawk’s, fixed intently on the constantly refreshing commands. Occasionally, he furrowed his brow slightly, his fingers pausing for a fraction of a second, as if contemplating a certain logical node, then immediately resumed typing at an even faster pace. His entire aura was calm yet powerful, like a supercomputer running with precise efficiency.

Yu Ling held her breath, afraid to disturb him, watching him silently and unblinkingly. Before her lay Zhao Chen, as if shedding a gentle exterior to reveal an inner core of cold, hard, and highly efficient metal. This stark contrast stirred her heart—both unfamiliar and irresistibly captivating.

Time slipped by in silence, broken only by the faint, almost inaudible “tap-tap” of Zhao Chen’s keystrokes, like the most precise stopwatch counting seconds.

After an unknown span, Zhao Chen’s fingers slammed heavily on the Enter key. The waterfall-like cascade of code on the screen instantly ceased. He exhaled deeply, leaning back in his chair, rubbing his brow, his face showing a trace of relaxation and fatigue after completing the challenge. The sharp aura that had seemed like a drawn sword slowly withdrew.

He seemed to suddenly remember someone was beside him, turning his head to look at Yu Ling. When their eyes met—hers filled with shock, curiosity, and a faint, barely perceptible admiration—his weariness vanished instantly. He resumed a gentle, harmless smile, as if the inhuman coding storm just moments ago was merely her illusion.

“Finished?” His voice returned to its usual clear tone, with a hint of casual pride. “Just a small script, helping a friend optimize some stuff.”

Yu Ling: “…”

A small script? Optimize some stuff? That posture, that speed, that focus… You call that a ‘small script’?! She felt her understanding was struck anew, as if by a nuclear blast!

“You… what exactly did you do before?” Yu Ling couldn’t help blurting out, her voice dry without her realizing it.

Zhao Chen’s smile remained unchanged, his amber eyes clear and calm. His tone was as casual as if discussing the weather: “Like I said, just an ordinary employee. Typing on the keyboard, running errands.” He stood up and stretched naturally, his joints crackling softly. “Lingling, are you almost done? It’s nearly midnight.”

Looking at his relaxed demeanor, as if he had only just dozed off, and then at the documents about conversion paths on the screen she had long forgotten, a deep sense of powerlessness surged within her. Compared to this man’s “ordinary,” her workload felt like child’s play!

“R-right away!” She hurriedly pulled herself together, forcing her attention back to the screen. Under the oppressive aura of Zhao Chen’s “ordinary,” she felt her own typing speed slow to a snail’s crawl!

Finally, the last design confirmation email was sent. Yu Ling closed her laptop with a sigh of relief, feeling utterly drained.

“Let’s go home.” Zhao Chen had already packed away his ultra-thin laptop, put on his coat again, and stood by her desk, tall and upright, his gaze gentle, as if the dazzling coding storm had never happened.

The office building was silent in the deep night. The elevator descended slowly, the cramped space containing only the two of them. Yu Ling leaned against the cold elevator wall, exhaustion washing over her like a tide. She stole a glance at Zhao Chen beside her. He stood quietly, his profile sharply defined under the cold light atop the elevator, exuding a calm and handsome presence.

“Tired?” Zhao Chen seemed to notice her gaze, turning his head to ask softly.

“Mm…” Yu Ling mumbled, her eyelids heavy. The continuous intense work, coupled with the shock Zhao Chen had brought, left her physically and mentally exhausted.

—

The elevator reached the underground garage. The crisp air mixed with the scent of gasoline and dust greeted them. Zhao Chen’s sleek, understatedly luxurious black Bentley Mulsanne rested quietly in its reserved spot, like a beast lying in wait.

Zhao Chen courteously opened the passenger door for Yu Ling. She settled into the seat; the top-grade leather embraced her tired body comfortably, and the subtle cedar fragrance that belonged to Zhao Chen instantly relaxed her taut nerves.

The car glided smoothly out of the garage, merging into the sparse midnight traffic. Zhao Chen drove attentively, his profile serene under the soft blue glow of the dashboard. Gentle classical music floated through the cabin—Debussy’s “Clair de Lune,” a favorite of Yu Ling’s.

Leaning back in her seat, watching the city lights blur past, weariness crept over her again. Just as she was about to slip into darkness, Zhao Chen’s warm, deep voice reached her ears, tinged with a subtle coaxing tone.

“Lingling?”

“Mm?” Yu Ling responded drowsily.

“Next time you work late… will you let me accompany you again?”

“…Mm.” Her mind was foggy; all she wanted was to sleep.

“Then… it’s settled.” Zhao Chen’s voice carried a hint of triumphant delight, like a child who had just stolen candy.

The car pulled steadily into their residential underground garage and stopped. Yu Ling struggled to unbuckle her seatbelt and opened the door. As her feet touched the ground, dizziness hit her, causing her to stagger.

“Careful.” A warm, strong hand caught her arm just in time. Zhao Chen had somehow moved to her side.

“I’m fine…” Yu Ling shook her head, trying to free herself and walk on her own. But Zhao Chen’s grip remained firm, unwilling to let go.

“You look so tired you’re swaying,” his voice rang clear in the quiet garage, firm and unwavering. “Let me support you; it’s safer.” His touch was natural and just right—supportive without being overly intimate.

Too exhausted to resist, Yu Ling let him be. They walked side by side toward the elevator.

Through the thin cashmere sweater, Zhao Chen’s hand radiated warmth, dispelling the chill of the garage. In her drowsy mind, images flickered—the intense focus of his coding moments ago, then his gentle, caring gesture now… The stark contrast stirred her emotions, dulling her fatigue somewhat.

The elevator ascended. In the confined space, only their soft breaths filled the air. Yu Ling could clearly feel Zhao Chen’s warmth and the pleasant cedar scent enveloping her.

“Ding.” The elevator reached the sixteenth floor.

Zhao Chen helped Yu Ling out and led her to apartment 1601. He smoothly produced the key and opened the door. Warm light and the familiar, comforting scent of home spilled out.

Yu Ling tried to pull away to change her shoes on her own. “Thank you, I’m okay now.”

But Zhao Chen was quicker. He took out her gray, plush slippers from the shoe cabinet, bent down, and gently placed them by her feet. Then he straightened up, not moving away immediately, but slightly bowed his head, gazing into Yu Ling’s sleepy, somewhat dazed eyes.

His look, under the warm yellow foyer light, was profoundly tender and deep—like a tranquil lake. A faint, almost imperceptible smile played on his lips. His voice dropped to a low murmur, imbued with a hypnotic magnetism:

“Lingling.”

“Mm?”

“Today you earned merits for guarding me (chasing away Aunt), for staying late with me (even though my coding made you question life), for bringing supper (chicken porridge to warm the stomach), and for being a human cane (helping you out of the car)…” He recounted his “achievements” slowly, closing the distance a little with each phrase.

“So?” Yu Ling was caught off guard by his sudden “settling of accounts,” most of her sleepiness vanished. She instinctively stepped back half a pace, her back pressing against the cool entrance cabinet.

Zhao Chen stretched out his arm, lightly resting it on the cabinet beside her ear, forming a subtle “kabedon” pose.

He leaned in slightly, his extraordinarily handsome face magnified before her eyes. The amber gaze clearly reflected her flustered expression. His pleasant cedar scent mingled with the faint coolness of the night, enveloping Yu Ling completely.

His thin lips brushed near her ear, warm breath grazing her sensitive skin, sending delicate shivers through her. Then, in a low, slow voice tinged with a lazy nasal tone, as if coaxing or begging for candy, he whispered word by word:

“So… tonight… can I ask for… a lap pillow?”

Yu Ling: “!!!”

Boom!

A rush of heat surged to her head! Her cheeks, ears, and neck flushed crimson visibly—like a cooked shrimp! She widened her eyes in disbelief, staring at the handsome face so close, filled with innocence and expectation!

A lap… lap pillow?! What was he saying—such audacious words?!

“You… you…” Yu Ling’s tongue tied, her mind blank, her heart pounding wildly in her chest, nearly bursting out!

Zhao Chen looked at her instantly reddened, pretty face and those wide, wet, shocked eyes. The smile in his own deepened, like a triumphant fox. Not only did he not pull back, but he leaned in even closer, their noses nearly touching. His voice lowered further, laden with deadly temptation and a hint of grievance:

“Lingling… just for a little while… okay? My neck’s so sore from coding today…”