Once Again Casting an Icy, Dangerous, and Heavy Gaze at Her
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Qiu Yu had just finished showering when she happened to see Chen Cebai return.
He also seemed to have just showered. He wasn’t wearing glasses, and his forehead hair was slightly disheveled, resting against his brow bone. Seeing her come out of the bathroom, he narrowed his eyes slightly and glanced at her.
Qiu Yu held a grudge over his act of leaving right after finishing and glared back at him. Lifting the blanket, she burrowed into the bed without saying a word to him.
Chen Cebai paused for a moment, as if not understanding, but he didn’t probe further.
After drying his hair, he put on his glasses, sat down beside her, and picked up a tablet, seemingly browsing something.
Due to the rapid development of the chip industry, companies specializing in the research and production of tablets were becoming fewer and fewer. The tablet models were still stuck in designs from over a decade ago—an ultra-thin, fully transparent screen.
Qiu Yu glanced over and saw densely packed experimental data.
She became even more unhappy.
Normally, she wouldn’t care about such things at all.
But at this moment, whether it was because of Pei Xi’s words that had sown discord, or some inexplicable feeling of grievance, she felt she had the right to throw a little tantrum.
Qiu Yu suddenly grabbed Chen Cebai’s wrist.
The touch was cold, pricking her fingers with a slight numbness.
Chen Cebai turned his head, revealing a slightly puzzled look.
Qiu Yu leaned in and rested her chin in his palm.
Chen Cebai paused for two seconds, then naturally cupped her chin. “What is it?”
She had just finished showering, the ends of her hair still slightly damp, making her eyes look even more moist—sweet and alluring.
It was as if he were holding the chin of a little cat acting spoiled.
Chen Cebai was completely unable to resist the deliberate coquettishness she was showing. He unconsciously pinched her round, plump cheek but quickly let go, shifting his gaze elsewhere.
Qiu Yu, however, caught his wrist again, determined to rest her chin in his palm.
Not only did her eyes resemble those of a cat, but her movements did too. She kept rubbing her cheek against his palm.
Chen Cebai was rubbed so much that a numb sensation spread from his fingers all the way down his spine. He wanted to cup the back of her head and push her away a little, but in the end, he merely scratched her chin lightly and spoke in a cold, low, husky voice:
“What’s wrong?”
Qiu Yu fluttered her eyelashes, wrapped both arms around his shoulders, and slowly moved her face closer to his.
Chen Cebai’s expression didn’t change at all, but his fist clenched tightly, his Adam’s apple rolling as the sharp lines of his jaw tensed.
Yet Qiu Yu didn’t kiss him.
She lightly took his protruding Adam’s apple between her lips.
Chen Cebai abruptly reached out, grasping the back of her neck. Lowering his head, he looked at her, his gaze icy and profound, swirling with emotions she couldn’t decipher.
Probably displeasure.
After all, she had disturbed his work.
Qiu Yu provocatively met his gaze, her hand moving downward.
Sure enough, just like his gaze, it turned cold and hard.
Having achieved her goal, Qiu Yu got up and retreated, flashing him a sweet yet malicious smile. “Nothing much, I just wanted to tell you—these next few days, you’ll be sleeping alone.”
After saying that, she looked at him with a bright smile, waiting for him to ask why.
Who would have thought that Chen Cebai didn’t ask anything at all? He simply nodded and said in an even tone, “Alright.”
Clearly, he had reacted, yet his attitude remained utterly indifferent. He was so stingy that he wouldn’t even ask a single question, as if no matter what she did or said, it didn’t matter to him.
Qiu Yu’s smile faded. She was genuinely angry now.
She grabbed a sleepwear jacket from the clothes rack, turned around, and walked out of the bedroom, slamming the door shut with a loud bang.
The moment the door slammed shut, Chen Cebai closed his eyes. A few seconds later, he suddenly opened them again.
His expression didn’t change noticeably, but his pupils contracted sharply, narrowing into two thin and razor-sharp slits.
Like a chilling cold-blooded predator opening its eyes.
Qiu Yu would never know—just now, he had been completely incapable of having a normal conversation with her. His mind had been mechanically replaying hunting sequences.
—Lock on. Ambush. Seize. Bite the throat.
And every hunting action had her as its target.
He even imagined covering the entire bedroom with silk, like a wolf spider. Layer upon layer of silk sealing the door. Eliminating any possible intruder who might set eyes on her. His ruthless, primal possessiveness magnified to the extreme.
He was transforming into a predator, an aggressor, and a plunderer of the animal kingdom.
Chen Cebai removed his glasses and pressed his fingers hard against his brow.
He didn’t know whether this series of changes was evolution or regression.
If it was evolution, what would he become? If it was regression, what would he become?
Most crucially—could he restrain these changes?
…Or was this neither evolution nor regression, but rather his sick, filthy nature gradually being exposed?
So wretched that even he found himself unfamiliar.
—
Qiu Yu didn’t speak to Chen Cebai for several days.
It was as if they had returned to the time when they had just gotten married.
Back then, he had been even colder than he was now. Like strangers living under the same roof, he wouldn’t talk to her unless absolutely necessary, and he wouldn’t even sleep in the same bedroom.
But at first, Qiu Yu also didn’t know how to face him.
She had a good impression of him—thought he was good-looking, with a cold and distant temperament—but to say she liked him? That wasn’t quite it.
Marrying him was, on one hand, because they were a good match.
On the other hand, it was a deep-rooted curiosity.
When it came to desecration and desire, there was no difference between men and women.
Pei Xi said—Chen Cebai wanted to desecrate her.
However, Qiu Yu felt that it was she who wanted to desecrate Chen Cebai.
She wanted to know—if such a cold and indifferent man became her husband, would he be any different from usual?
The news called him “the smartest person of the century.” While there was some element of deliberate hype from companies, he was indeed more intelligent than most people. His temperament was also uniquely aloof and refined. Especially when he wore a white lab coat, his entire being appeared even more pristine and upright.
It made people want to yank open his meticulously fastened tie.
In the end, Qiu Yu really did yank open his tie.
On the day of their second kiss—their first kiss after marriage.
She couldn’t stand this widow-like marriage any longer, so she hired a private chef to come over and prepare a table of organic French cuisine. She also lit some scented candles and started up the fireplace.
Qiu Yu had always thought the fireplace at home was a simulated one, but when someone came to light it, she realized—it was a real fireplace.
The firewood was white ash, crackling as it burned. Bathed in the warm orange-red firelight, she waited for Chen Cebai to come home.
He didn’t seem to expect her to have put such effort into setting the atmosphere. A look of astonishment flashed across his face. He paused for a moment before raising a hand to undo his tie.
She immediately stood up and shouted, “Don’t move!”
That was the first time she had ever seen an expression of near-bewilderment on Chen Cebai’s cold and sharp face.
Even now, recalling it made her want to laugh.
At the time, she had indeed laughed as she walked over, hooking one arm around his neck while using the other hand to tug off his tie. She gazed up at him from below and said, “Mr. Chen, don’t you think something is missing?”
Chen Cebai didn’t say anything, allowing her to pull off his tie.
Qiu Yu couldn’t remember many other details—only that he stood completely still, staring at her for a long time. It was as if he were reassessing this relationship, as if he were evaluating how close he could allow himself to get to her.
More than a full minute passed before he suddenly wrapped an arm around her waist and, in a low voice, countered with a question: “What do you think is missing?”
Qiu Yu understood—this was a signal that he agreed to take things further.
Opportunities like this couldn’t be missed. She smiled sweetly, grasped his slightly open shirt collar, tilted her head up, and kissed him.
Many of the memories blurred over time. She only remembered that during the kiss, he kept his eyes fixed on her, completely motionless, his lips tightly closed as if he had forgotten to open them.
So, she fluttered her eyelashes at him, like a little cat, and slowly licked his lips, one stroke at a time.
Until he suddenly clutched the back of her head, seized the tip of her tongue in an instant, and kissed her back—dominant and fervent.
Because he kissed her so passionately, at first, Qiu Yu thought he was experienced.
But it didn’t take long for her to realize—passionate as he was, his movements were completely unstructured. He only knew how to suck heavily, like a predatory animal.
She had no choice but to cup his thin face with her hands. The moment her fingers touched his skin, a shiver ran through her from the cold.
Chen Cebai’s voice was very low: “My body temperature is lower than the average person’s.”
Later, she found out—it wasn’t just a little lower than normal. It was a lot lower. And when his emotions were heightened, he could become as cold as ice, completely defying biological norms.
Logically speaking, every part of him should have been cold. His temperament was also unfathomably indifferent. It should have been impossible for him to make her feel any sense of heat.
Yet every time he kissed her, there was always a kind of shiver-inducing intensity in it.
What made her heart race even more was the feeling that—this intensity was still being restrained.
It made her want to explore—just how much suppressed passion did he still have left unexpressed?
When the kiss ended, he lifted her into his arms and carried her upstairs.
Chen Cebai was not a man who knew nothing.
After all, he was a biologist, an authority in his field, with a mind of unparalleled intelligence. From a macro to a microscopic level, he had an in-depth understanding of the human body’s physiological structure.
So, there were no embarrassing incidents like getting the wrong location.
But his inexperience still showed.
—It ended before it even began.
Qiu Yu blinked, eyelashes fluttering. Before she could even begin to comfort or encourage him, he had already calmly regrouped.
Just like how, after a failed experiment, he would immediately stop, analyze the cause, summarize the problem, and revise the procedure—approaching it again with a rational and rigorous attitude.
Qiu Yu no longer had the energy to dwell on his inexperience or failure. Her vision blurred, and the only thought left in her mind was:
So he really wasn’t pretending just now?
After that, it seemed like they had become a real couple.
They would kiss in the mornings and evenings, and sometimes even in public.
If she wanted to hold hands or link arms, he never refused. It seemed that no matter what she wanted, he could go along with it, indulge her—yet his gaze would never truly land on her.
Qiu Yu felt lost.
She didn’t know how to define her relationship with Chen Cebai.
For three years, they had never fought, never had a disagreement—only because she had subconsciously ignored the irreconcilable contradictions between them.
She pretended not to see his indifference, his disregard, his attitude of take it or leave it.
She pretended not to see how he refused to open up to her.
She pretended these three years had gone perfectly smoothly—which, in a way, they had.
Except, a certain unspeakable sense of defeat never left her.
Since childhood, she had grown up in an environment that emphasized “the company above all”. She had once believed that, like her parents, she would also prioritize her career above everything else.
And she had indeed prioritized her career—working diligently for three years—only to feel nothing but boredom and emptiness in the end.
—On the surface, she was a journalist. She could carry a gun. She could enter dangerous situations.
But in reality, every assignment she received was far less dangerous than those given to her colleagues.
Whenever the level of risk escalated, her assignment would inevitably be transferred to someone else.
Her so-called career was more like a role-playing game.
She had tried to switch jobs. But no matter how promising the initial negotiations seemed, she would always receive a rejection call the next day.
Either the employer had somehow found out about her family background, or her parents had personally called to “communicate” with them.
She was not a canary in a cage.
A caged canary, at least, could receive attention and affection from its owner.
Sometimes, it could even spread its wings and fly for a moment.
She was more like an exquisitely crafted canary sculpture—magnificent and refined, yet utterly lifeless.
No one would ever pay too much attention to a sculpture, nor would they grant a sculpture the ability to fly.
She recalled the illusion she had that morning—
Chen Cebai had looked at her with an almost barely-concealed gaze.
Greedy. Obsessive.
It had nearly made her shudder.
Qiu Yu had never understood why she had such an illusion.
Now, she knew.
She wanted to be gazed at, desired, loved with greed and obsession, not trapped in a marriage as bland as water, even if their compatibility was 100%.
Thinking carefully, she realized she had never truly felt passionate love before.
But it was understandable.
A long time ago, her sociology teacher had said that in modern times, human relationships had been reduced to “wealth vs. poverty.”
Since competition was the only thing left, people had become especially cautious and guarded toward one another.
Her family was relatively better off.
In some militaristic monopoly enterprises in Japan, there were even cases where people murdered their own parents to climb the ranks.
Pei Xi was probably her closest friend.
But even when he looked at her, there was always a subtle, indescribable sense of distance.
Qiu Yu understood that this wasn’t because Pei Xi wanted to keep his distance.
It was because the education he had received since childhood told him—
No matter how close they were, no matter whether she posed a threat to his career or not, he must maintain a certain distance from her.
And this mindset wasn’t unique to their social class.
It existed everywhere in society.
Under these circumstances, it wasn’t just Chen Cebai who couldn’t desire her.
As long as someone existed in this world, it was impossible for them to love her the way she imagined.
Qiu Yu sat in her office, propping her chin up with her hand, sipping her coffee irritably.
She didn’t want to keep going like this with Chen Cebai, just drifting along.
Yet, she didn’t have the resolve to decisively end this marriage either—
After all, for all his flaws, Chen Cebai was a perfect match for her in that aspect.
Besides—
Men smarter than him weren’t nearly as young and good-looking as he was.
And men better looking than him weren’t nearly as intelligent or refined.
Logically speaking, intelligence shouldn’t have anything to do with appearance.
But every time Chen Cebai appeared in an interview, sitting among other men, the contrast was immediately obvious.
That intellectual beauty and detached temperament were completely beyond what mere delicate facial features could compare to.
Qiu Yu was utterly conflicted.
She pulled up Chen Cebai’s chat window on her tablet, typed a few words, then deleted them.
How strange.
They clearly had no real emotions between them.
Even if there were, they were one-sided on her part.
Yet when she hesitated over whether to end it, her heart was suddenly gripped by an intense feeling of weightlessness.
The chat window still displayed the last message they exchanged—
It had been a week ago.
The day before she decided to sleep separately from him.
Qiu Yu typed, deleted, typed again, then deleted again—over and over—unsure what to send.
After several dozen seconds, she simply tossed the tablet aside and leaned back in her office chair, drafting the message in her head:
—These past few years, my views have changed. I don’t want to continue a partnership-style marriage anymore. I wanted to ask for your thoughts.
But what thoughts could Chen Cebai possibly have?
He would definitely just reply with two words—
Either “up to you” or “as you wish.”
Then, should she just remove the last sentence and send only the first one?
No, that was too formal and businesslike.
After all, she was the one who had first proposed this type of marriage arrangement.
Chen Cebai hadn’t done anything wrong.
From beginning to end, he had simply cooperated with her.
And now, just because she had suddenly developed inappropriate thoughts about him, she was going to kick him away?
That seemed a bit selfish.
Qiu Yu scratched her head and continued thinking.
—Chen Cebai, I forgot to tell you—when I married you, it wasn’t because our compatibility was 100%, but because I had a good impression of you.
But after three years, you don’t seem to be very happy.
You might not have noticed, but every time I try to kiss you, you always avert your gaze.
Your subconscious is rejecting me.
I’m wondering—should we end this relationship… or redefine it?
Maybe try being friends instead. What do you think?
Qiu Yu immediately rejected this idea.
Too official.
And with such a long message, Chen Cebai would probably be too lazy to even read it.
Qiu Yu took a deep breath, feeling stifled. She kicked the desk in frustration, picked up the tablet, and in the end, sent only three words—
【Are you there?】
What made her hair stand on end was that after she sent those words, the first thing she received was not Chen Cebai’s reply—
But the tangible, lurking gaze of the observer.
After disappearing for a week, the observer once again cast an icy, dangerous, and oppressively heavy gaze upon her.
A shiver crawled up her spine, like ants scurrying across her skin. She couldn’t help but shudder.