Chapter 115 Dr. Song’s Tea-Tasting Skills Are Perfect

The next morning, sunlight streamed through the gaps in the curtains, casting mottled patterns on the bedroom floor.

Lu Er woke first and, upon opening his eyes, immediately saw Song Jingmo’s face so close to his own.

The usually cool, aloof features appeared much softer in sleep, though a faint bluish tinge still lingered under his eyes, clearly from last night’s lack of sleep while comforting Lu Er.

Lu Er felt a warm, bittersweet flutter in his chest. He reached out with delicate fingers and lightly traced the bridge of Song Jingmo’s prominent nose.

The subtle touch woke Song Jingmo. His long lashes fluttered a few times before he slowly opened his eyes.

His just-woken voice was slightly hoarse, carrying a magnetic quality, and his arms instinctively wrapped around Lu Er’s waist.

His fingertips grazed the sensitive small of Lu Er’s back just so, neither too soft nor too heavy, as he murmured, “Awake? Want to sleep a bit more?”

Lu Er felt weak at the waist at the touch, instantly recalling the previous night in the mountaintop tent. Even now, his butt still tingled from the memory.

Immediately flustered, he pulled back his mischievous hands and obediently buried his face in the pillow, mumbling, “No, I’m still sleepy!”

Seeing him acting like an ostrich, Song Jingmo’s eyes flickered with a faint smile. He pulled Lu Er closer into his arms, and the two of them fell back asleep together.

When they woke again, it was already past ten in the morning.

Song Jingmo got up to make a simple breakfast: fried eggs, toasted bread, and milk.

They sat at the table quietly, eating as warm sunlight fell on them, giving a serene, almost timeless feeling.

“What do you want for lunch?”

Setting down the milk, Song Jingmo looked at the still-drowsy Lu Er across from him. “Want to go to the supermarket together and pick something out? I can cook for you when we get back.”

Lu Er’s eyes brightened slightly. The two of them went like any ordinary couple—shopping at the supermarket, picking ingredients, returning home to cook…

Though mundane, for him it felt both novel and heartwarming.

He nodded: “Okay.”

After breakfast, they changed clothes.

Song Jingmo wore a black turtleneck base layer under a high-quality white long coat, making him appear even taller and more elegant.

Lu Er chose a sky-blue crewneck jacket, youthful and lively.

Upon glancing in the mirror, he immediately began complaining.

Pointing at the faint red mark on his neck, he pouted: “It’s all your fault! You’re a dog sign, aren’t you? You bit me, now I can’t wear nice clothes.”

Song Jingmo smiled at his puffed-up expression.

He took a light yellow cashmere scarf from the wardrobe and, with gentle, slightly lazy movements, draped it around Lu Er’s neck, perfectly covering the lingering marks.

“Better now, little ancestor?”

Then he bent down and kissed Lu Er’s forehead.

Lu Er looked left and right in the mirror. The scarf’s color complemented him beautifully—surprisingly well.

Finally appeased, he let out a small, coquettish hum.

They put on masks and hats, then held hands and walked to a nearby large imported supermarket.

Once inside, Lu Er froze in front of the dazzling snack aisle.

He excitedly grabbed chips, shrimp sticks, chocolate bars… all the junk food Song Jingmo usually strictly restricted.

Carrying a pile of loot with satisfaction, he turned around—but Song Jingmo wasn’t beside him.

Tiptoeing, he glanced toward the fresh produce section, where Song Jingmo was surrounded by a few girls.

Lu Er hugged his snacks, preparing to watch the scene unfold.

A girl in a pristine white Chanel pencil skirt, with exquisite makeup, looked apologetic yet clearly impressed by Song Jingmo.

In a sweet voice: “Sir, I’m really sorry… I accidentally spilled coffee on your coat earlier.”

“Maybe… we could exchange WeChat? I’ll pay for dry cleaning—or… I could buy you a new one?”

Nearby, her stylish friends chimed in eagerly:

“Yes, yes, Qiongzhi didn’t mean it.”
“Handsome, see how sincere she is? She’s the heiress of the Zhao Group!”
“Exactly, just make a friend… if she became your girlfriend, you’d save decades of effort—houses, cars, everything would be easy.”

Ah—so this was Zhao Qiongzhi, heiress of the Zhao Group.

Lu Er raised an eyebrow, arms crossed, leaning casually against a nearby shelf, ready to enjoy the show.

Let’s see how his Dr. Song handles this flood of wealth.

Song Jingmo’s brows furrowed slightly as he stepped back to create distance from Zhao Qiongzhi.

His tone was distant and cool: “No need. The coat isn’t expensive; I can handle it myself. Besides, I have someone.”

Zhao Qiongzhi’s smile stiffened, but she didn’t give up.

Flipping her hair and feigning a casual smile, she asked, “Who? What do they look like? Are they prettier than me?”

At this, Song Jingmo’s gaze precisely landed on Lu Er, who was enjoying the spectacle a short distance away.

He glanced at the giant electronic screens around the mall, which happened to display an ad featuring Lu Er endorsing a high-end skincare product.

On screen, Lu Er’s gaze was alluring, his features flawless.

A barely perceptible curve appeared at the corner of Song Jingmo’s mouth. He looked back at Zhao Qiongzhi calmly: “He’s much prettier than you.”

“Prettier…”

Song Jingmo paused, letting his eyes sweep over Lu Er’s ubiquitous mall ads. There was a trace of pride in his voice: “He’s everywhere on the streets.”

“…”

Zhao Qiongzhi and her friends froze.

Everywhere on the streets…?

Her face flushed red with anger. She’d been pampered all her life—when had she ever been humiliated like this?

An ordinary, street-seen face, and it could be compared to her, Zhao Group’s heiress?

And he even dared say he’s much prettier?

Clearly, Song Jingmo was making an excuse to brush her off—he simply didn’t fancy her.

“You!”

Fuming, Zhao Qiongzhi stomped her heels, pointed at Song Jingmo, shot him one last glare, and stormed off with her friends, their heels clicking angrily on the floor.

Song Jingmo turned to the culprit who had been watching the scene gleefully.

Lu Er nudged him with his shoulder.

Beneath the mask, his voice was muffled but full of laughter: “Wow, Dr. Song, that’s sharp-tongued!”

“‘Everywhere on the streets’? Aren’t you afraid Ms. Zhao might get angry?”

Song Jingmo took the excessive snacks from Lu Er’s arms and returned most to the shelf, keeping just two or three items.

Then he naturally held Lu Er’s hand and led him toward the fresh produce section, his tone calm: “Just telling the truth.”

“Besides,” Song Jingmo glanced at him, eyes deep, “did I say anything wrong? Isn’t your face… everywhere on the streets?”

Lu Er’s heart skipped a beat at that look, his face warming beneath the mask.

Yes—his Dr. Song’s tea-tasting skills are perfect.