Chapter 157 How Can I Face Anyone Looking Like This?

The morning sunlight filtered through the gaps in the curtains, casting long, narrow streaks of light across the floor.

His biological clock woke Song Jingmo promptly at 7:30. The person in his arms was still fast asleep, curled up against his chest.

Even breathing, long and steady; long eyelashes casting tiny shadows under the eyes, quiet and delicate like a fine porcelain doll.

Song Jingmo’s heart melted completely. He carefully withdrew his arm, which had gone slightly numb from being pressed under the body.

Trying not to wake Lu Er, he got out of bed.

After a quick wash, he picked up his phone charging on the bedside table.

Unlocking it, he saw dozens of unread messages on WeChat.

Opening them, most were from the group “Slackers Who Don’t Work Hard.”

Since midnight, colleagues had been wishing him happy birthday in the group.

[Head Nurse Today Scolded Someone: Happy Birthday, Director Song! Wishing you smooth surgeries and many published papers in the year ahead! 🎂🎂]

[Dr. Liu Isn’t a Doctor: @Song Director Song, happy birthday! Another year younger!]

[Little Princess of Instruments: Happy birthday, Dr. Song!]

[Tang Lan Just Wants to Eat: Happy birthday, Teacher Song! Treat us! Feed us! 🙏]

[Yin Siyao: Jingmo, happy birthday.]

A long string of “+1” and “treat us” messages followed.

Seeing these familiar IDs and the flurry of messages, Song Jingmo couldn’t help but smile sincerely.

He glanced at Lu Er, still asleep, hair messy, only half of his peaceful face visible, and his heart was filled with overwhelming happiness.

He tapped a reply:

[Thanks, everyone. 6 PM at Baiyun Gorge, my treat. Whoever can come, come.]

As soon as the message was sent, the group exploded, emojis of cheering and excitement filling the screen.

[Tang Lan Just Wants to Eat: Ahhh! Teacher Song is awesome! Baiyun Gorge! I love it! 🌀]

[Dr. Liu Isn’t a Doctor: Director Song is generous! I’ll definitely come!]

[Head Nurse Today Scolded Someone: Got it! Director Song, thanks for treating us.]

[Little Princess of Instruments: Screenshot taken! Anyone who doesn’t come is a little puppy!]

Setting the phone down, Song Jingmo turned, unable to resist leaning down to plant a soft kiss on Lu Er’s smooth forehead.

Lu Er stirred slightly from the gentle movement, eyelashes fluttering a few times.

Half-awake, he opened his eyes, voice heavy with sleep and hoarseness: “Mm… what time is it?”

“Seven thirty, still early.”

Song Jingmo brushed the stray hair from his forehead. “Go back to sleep for a bit. I’ll make something to eat.”

But Lu Er struggled to get up: “Aren’t you going to work?”

Song Jingmo pressed him back into the covers, wrapping him up: “I took the morning off. There’s a surgery in the afternoon. After that, we can have dinner tonight. You’ll come too.”

Rubbing his eyes, Lu Er tried to focus on Song Jingmo standing at the bedside against the light.

Song Jingmo leaned down to kiss his forehead, voice gentle: “It’s still early. I’ll make some porridge. Eat, then go back to sleep.”

Lu Er felt as if his entire body had been taken apart and put back together, especially his waist and a certain sensitive area—it ached sharply.

He had no appetite, just wanted to stay sprawled out.

“I’m not eating… you eat.”

Song Jingmo: “Rest for a bit, I’ll feed you later.”

More than half an hour later, Song Jingmo sat by the bed.

He lifted a bowl of porridge, stirred, tested the temperature.

Holding Lu Er in his arms, he scooped a spoonful and brought it to his mouth: “Around 5 PM, I’ll pick you up for dinner. They’ll probably go sing afterward too.”

Lu Er sipped the warm porridge from Song Jingmo’s hand, warmth sliding down his throat, relaxing his body a bit.

“But I have to go back to K City tonight, and I have filming tomorrow.”

Sleepiness faded slightly, eyes brightening, then dimming again with frustration.

“No problem. Dinner at 6, airport at 10. Plenty of time.”

Blinking, Lu Er asked: “How did you know my flight is at 11?”

He booked it in K City—did Song Jingmo sneak into his phone while he slept?

Song Jingmo saw right through his thoughts, pinched his nose gently: “I didn’t check your phone.”

He just knew Lu Er wouldn’t want to leave too early, so he’d buy the last flight out.

“I don’t have anything to hide on my phone, so it’s fine if you looked.”

Lu Er was generous, even giving Song Jingmo his phone password: “It’s your birthday.”

Looking at Lu Er’s beautiful eyes and trembling lashes, Song Jingmo’s heart softened completely. He leaned down and stole another kiss.

After finishing a bowl of porridge, Lu Er pushed him away: “Go to work, don’t worry about me. I’ll sleep some more.”

Yawning slightly, he curled back under the covers.

“Mm, rest well.”

Song Jingmo tucked him in, kissed the top of his head, then quickly finished breakfast, changed, and left.

Lu Er slept straight through until 4 PM.

The curtains blocked the sunlight well, leaving the room dim.

Startled awake, he grabbed his phone and jumped—6 PM dinner, and it would take time to get to Baiyun Gorge.

He still had to shower and get ready.

Enduring the soreness in his body, he struggled up and rushed to the bathroom for a quick shower.

The hot water helped ease some discomfort, but his waist was still sore, and the lingering sensations in his back remained noticeable.

After dressing in the walk-in closet, he looked in the mirror—red-rimmed eyes, marks along his neck and collarbone—and sighed.

How can I face anyone looking like this?

He sifted through his wardrobe and finally settled on a red-and-white color-block casual jacket.

Simple design, red vibrant but not flashy, white fresh—giving a lively look.

Underneath, he wore a plain white turtleneck knit, warm and covering the marks on his neck.

For the bottom, slim black jeans and white sneakers.

The red-and-white combination made his skin look fairer and his complexion brighter.

The youthful, energetic look offset the fatigue and the laziness from overindulgence, giving an overall refreshed appearance.

He ran his fingers through still-damp hair, debating whether to style it with some wax.

At that moment, the door opened. Song Jingmo entered, carrying the coolness from outside.

The mirror reflected Song Jingmo’s figure—dark gray wool sweater and matching pants, camel-colored coat over it, clean and upright.

Song Jingmo looked at him fiddling with his hair in front of the mirror: “Er-er, if you keep fixing yourself, I won’t want to take you out.”

Then he wrapped Lu Er in his arms from behind, chin resting on his shoulder, inhaling deeply.

His low, pleasant voice: “Stop. You’re already beautiful enough.”