The President Comes Knocking -

“Eating dumplings is a tradition for the Winter Solstice. It’s way too early for that. Besides, what does eating dumplings have to do with nourishing the body?”

“Doesn’t matter! I’m craving dumplings now-soft, plump dumplings with perfectly mixed dipping sauce. Just thinking about it is making me hungry. Ugh, when’s dinner going to be ready?”

“You glutton…”

Feeling sorry for how exhausting the filming had been recently for Qingyi and Chu Ziyu, Chu Qianqian didn’t agree to their request right away. Yet, after wrapping up the outdoor shoot the next day, she went out to buy ingredients for making dumplings. To let the two of them rest, she specifically decided not to have Xiao Liu drive her and went to a supermarket near the villa herself.

The villa’s refrigerator mostly had ingredients for regular meals, so she needed to pick up additional items for the dumplings.

After finding out that Chu Qianqian planned to make dumplings, Qingyi kept reminding her throughout their ride to be sure to buy lamb filling. He even repeated himself again just before getting out of the car.

The three people at the villa each preferred different fillings, but none of them liked lamb. Take Chu Qianqian as an example-she disliked the gamey smell of lamb and usually wouldn’t eat it unless it was specially marinated.

The only person she knew who loved lamb filling was Mu Han, and that was something Qingyi had told her.

But now Qingyi was making a point to insist she buy lamb. Chu Qianqian couldn’t tell if he thought her memory was so bad she’d forgotten or if he was deliberately teasing her.

“Well, no matter what he says, I’m not making dumplings with lamb filling.” That had been her original thought.

But now, staring at the lamb she just bought, she massaged her temples in frustration. She couldn’t help wishing she could rewind time by a few minutes to shake her seemingly hypnotized self. Why couldn’t she resist?

Regardless of how much she grumbled internally, Chu Qianqian didn’t bring herself to toss the lamb anyway. She was no longer that pampered young lady; she understood how hard money is to come by and had grown to respect the details of managing groceries and household supplies.

As Chu Qianqian had guessed, Mu Han did end up coming to Qingyi’s villa today.

The moment she stepped into the villa and laid eyes on Mu Han, an inexplicable urge to flee surged through her.

Although he was in good physical shape, Mu Han wasn’t invincible and dressed warmly in light of the cold weather. His outfit today was a thoughtful nod to the season-a classic combination of a coat layered over a sweater.

Since they were indoors, he wasn’t wearing his overcoat. Instead, he had on a khaki turtleneck sweater, and under the warm yellow lighting, his exposed collarbones seemed almost luminous-slim yet undeniably striking.

For a moment, Chu Qianqian found herself questioning whether the man standing there kneading dough with such a gentle presence was really the Mu Han she knew.

But as it turned out, he was. His face remained as calm and expressionless as ever while his hands worked the soft, shapeshifting dough with an unrelenting focus, as though the dough wasn’t just dough but some priceless document worth tens of thousands.

Sensing a third gaze besides Qingyi’s and Chu Ziyu’s, Mu Han looked up. Almost instinctively, the corners of his lips curled into a faint smile, one so delicate it was like a fleeting bloom-a moment of quiet beauty.

It was the sort of moment that could disarm someone, bring peace in chaos.

Realizing her inner thoughts were beginning to waver again, Chu Qianqian shook her head vigorously, as though trying to fling away not just the poetic phrase that had popped into her mind but also the trace of someone who had, once again, etched himself into her thoughts.

Mu Han’s glance didn’t go unnoticed by the other two. The second he raised his head, Qingyi and Chu Ziyu knew that Chu Qianqian had returned.

Chu Ziyu caught every subtle emotion in Chu Qianqian’s expression and every little movement of hers. His own gaze darkened noticeably, though no one seemed to catch on. Hidden in a quiet corner, the veins on the back of his hand became visible, taut like wriggling, ugly little insects buried under skin-unseen, unspoken, but ever-present.

Much like the murky feelings he harbored, feelings he couldn’t show anyone.

And yet, no matter how painful his heart felt, Chu Ziyu did not leave. He refused to step away during moments when Mu Han and Chu Qianqian were alone together. To him, leaving at such a time felt like surrendering halfway through the game, and he absolutely wouldn’t let that happen.

The next stretch of time belonged to Mu Han and Chu Qianqian, the pair syncing effortlessly as they worked: one rolling the dough for dumpling wrappers, the other mixing the filling, and then both folding the dumplings together.

Meanwhile, Qingyi and Chu Ziyu simply sat off to the side, quietly watching the two’s fluid and practiced rhythm. Both had the self-awareness not to insert themselves into the process.

Qingyi shifted in his seat, adjusting his posture as he subtly redirected his gaze, studying the people in the dining room. He wasn’t sure if it was just his imagination, but he could’ve sworn that in just this short period, Mu Han had glanced their way several times-strangely enough, not at him but at Chu Ziyu, who was sitting next to him.

The look carried no malice, but neither was it particularly warm. It felt more like an appraisal, a deliberate examination.

“What’s going on? Is there some kind of tension between Ziyu and Mu Han?” Qingyi wondered, furrowing his brows.

The discovery put him on edge. One was his best friend, the other was his older brother. If something unpleasant had really erupted between the two, he’d be the one caught in the middle-an unenviable and downright exhausting position to find himself in.

Usually the one most skilled at livening up the atmosphere, Qingyi remained unusually silent, clearly preoccupied with his own thoughts. Without his usual warmth to diffuse tension, the villa’s other three occupants didn’t feel much like talking either. For a time, the air grew so quiet it was almost suffocating.

This strange tension finally broke once the dumplings were finished.

“Qingyi, clean this up.”

“Chu Ziyu, help me carry these things into the kitchen.”

“What about me?”

Upon hearing Chu Qianqian’s voice, Mu Han, who was still busy with his tasks, replied without even looking up, his tone calm but firm: “You’re good. Just find a place to sit and relax.”

“It’s fine. I’m not tired. I’ll help clean up,” Chu Qianqian said, already rolling up her sleeves and getting ready to pitch in. But before she could start, the man’s hand suddenly intercepted hers.

“They’ve been lounging around this whole time. It’s about time they got up and did something,” Mu Han said flatly.

His tone seemed completely nonchalant as his gaze casually flicked toward the other two. Yet, for reasons neither Qingyi nor Chu Ziyu could explain, a faint chill ran down both their spines.

Chu Ziyu, in particular, was convinced that Mu Han’s glance had been directed at him. The realization felt like a lump of frustration caught in his throat-neither swallowable nor escapable. That unspoken weight irritated him so much that he didn’t bother dwelling on the ambiguous glance and instead stood up right away to start cleaning up the table with palpable intensity.

Qingyi had initially been puzzled by Mu Han’s sudden decision to delegate tasks. After all, back at home, Mu Han was someone his family doted on endlessly, someone who practically had never done any chores. But seeing how Chu Ziyu was now scrubbing the table with a rigid expression, Qingyi instantly understood the subtext-Mu Han’s words weren’t aimed at him; they were meant for Chu Ziyu. Qingyi had simply been caught in the crossfire.

This realization sent another wave of discomfort through Qingyi. His brother had never stooped to this kind of petty maneuvering before. Today’s peculiar behavior only confirmed one thing: the tension between Mu Han and Chu Ziyu was no ordinary disagreement. Whatever was going on between them was deeply personal-and far from insignificant.

Now this… this was going to be tricky.