Chapter 19 Ideal Type and Ten Years

The private room was filled with clinking glasses and a lively atmosphere.

Many of those present had come with partners, and since they were all graduates of A University, there was plenty to talk about.

Before long, the conversation naturally shifted to marriage.

Yin Siyao, acting on someone else’s request to matchmake school beauty Wen Shige, deliberately steered the topic toward Song Jingmo.

“Our Dr. Song is a golden bachelor. I wonder what his requirements are for his future partner?”

The moment he spoke, everyone at the table turned to Song Jingmo with curiosity. Especially the single women, whose eyes practically sparkled.

Lu Er, who had been engrossed in his phone, immediately perked up at the question.

Song Jingmo naturally understood Yin Siyao’s intention and noticed the expectant glance from Wen Shige.

Gently swirling the wine glass in his hand, he spoke slowly to completely quash any unrealistic thoughts in the room:

“High education, fair skin, beautiful appearance, long legs; gentle, considerate, sensible, caring; able to handle both social engagements and cooking at home.”

This string of requirements left many at the table wide-eyed, but Song Jingmo wasn’t finished:

“She should have her own career and excel in her field—after all, a marriage between equals lasts longer.”

Taking a sip of wine, he added: “Most importantly, she shouldn’t be clingy, pretentious, or dramatic; she should understand the difficulties of a doctor’s work and accept that I often work overtime and can’t always take care of the home.”

After he finished, the entire table was stunned.

Yin Siyao opened his mouth but could only mutter after a moment: “Such a handsome face wasted… you deserve to be single forever.”

With standards like these, even praying to every god in the heavens might not be enough to meet them.

Besides, nowadays, which girl wouldn’t want to be pampered like a princess?

Wen Shige’s smile on her face became forced.

She had liked Song Jingmo since school, but after hearing this, all hope was gone.

She wanted a prince on a white horse, not a monk reciting scriptures.

Song Jingmo really had no sense of romance.

Lu Er kept his head down, unconsciously comparing himself to Song Jingmo’s “ideal type” as the list was being recited.

Fair skin—he was fair, often praised for it.
Beautiful appearance—universally recognized as stunning; objective fact.
High education—Song Jingmo had dragged him into A University.
Long legs—he was 182 cm tall with excellent proportions.
Considerate, caring—he would order takeout when Song Jingmo was busy.
Career—he was a top star in the entertainment industry.
Not clingy, not dramatic, gentle—barely matched.

Realizing what he was doing, Lu Er panicked and quickly downed a drink to calm himself.

Why was he comparing himself to Song Jingmo’s ideal type?

It was absurd.

Sensing the awkward tension, Jiang Sheng quickly turned the topic to Lu Er: “Our superstar Lu, what are your requirements for your other half?”

Chu Mian chimed in: “With so many handsome guys and beauties in the entertainment industry, you haven’t taken a fancy to anyone? Could it be you’re secretly dating behind your fans’ backs?”

All attention shifted to Lu Er.

He hurriedly blurted out something ridiculous: “I like big chests, preferably an E cup, no silicone implants.”

The room erupted in laughter, instantly lightening the mood.

Lu Er continued fabricating: “She should look cold and untouchable but know how to act cute and spoiled for me. I like girls who can be sweet, salty, or domineering.”

Emphasizing the last three words: “Most importantly, she must be a girl, not a Thai ladyboy.”

Chu Mian thought: “Good brother has quite a unique taste—apparently likes girls with split personalities?”

“No one to date because the entertainment industry has too many tech-minded people. Staring at a bunch of silicone dolls just doesn’t do it for me.”

Song Jingmo paused mid-bite.

Was Lu Er talking about the girlfriend he mentioned on social media a few years ago?

Glancing at the smiling Lu Er, Song Jingmo calmly picked up the red wine and downed two or three glasses in a row.

Yin Siyao weakly asked: “Are you two here to make wishes? I think you’re both doomed to stay single.”

She added impatiently, “Why not just make do with each other and stop tormenting girls?”

Silence fell over the private room again.

Lu Er blushed and kept his head down while eating, while Song Jingmo continued drinking expressionlessly, as if he hadn’t heard the remark.

After dinner, everyone moved to the entertainment hall.

Under everyone’s cheering, Lu Er was pushed onto the stage to sing.

Chu Mian picked the song Ten Years and shouted loudly: “Brother Lu, sing this one! I need to mourn my dead love!”

Lu Er took the microphone and stood in the center of the stage.

The lights shone on him, making him glow.

As the prelude played, he took a deep breath and began to sing:

“If those two words hadn’t trembled, I wouldn’t have realized I was hurting…”

His voice was clear and ethereal, and the room gradually quieted.

“Ten years ago, I didn’t know you, you didn’t belong to me, we were still the same…”

As he sang this line, Lu Er’s gaze unconsciously drifted toward Song Jingmo.

More than ten years?

From junior high until now, it had been fifteen years.

“Ten years later, we are friends, still able to greet each other, but that kind of tenderness can no longer find a reason to hug…”

For some reason, Lu Er felt this song described him and Song Jingmo.

They used to be able to hug without restraint, to be completely close—but once they grew up, they couldn’t.

If he could, he really wouldn’t want to grow up at all.

The song was filled with unspeakable emotions, moving everyone present.

Song Jingmo watched Lu Er at center stage, his heart full of mixed feelings.

Such a dazzling person could never belong to him—they were simply impossible together.

When the gathering ended, everyone said their goodbyes and left.

Song Jingmo lagged a few steps behind; seeing this, Lu Er unconsciously slowed his pace as well.

The two walked side by side at the end, the atmosphere slightly awkward.

Lu Er didn’t know what to say, finally forcing out: “Happy New Year.”

Song Jingmo stopped, took a red envelope from his pocket, and handed it to Lu Er: “Happy New Year. Peace and joy.”

Lu Er’s eyes couldn’t help but fall on those beautiful hands.

Long, elegant fingers like carefully sculpted artwork. The joints were defined, each finger radiating a faint ivory sheen.

On the broad palm lay the red envelope. The contrast of white and red was surprisingly harmonious.

Song Jingmo had always prepared a large red envelope for him every year, even though he was no longer a child.

He hadn’t expected Song Jingmo to prepare one again this year.

But he hadn’t prepared anything.

Lu Er awkwardly stood there, unsure whether to accept it.

Seeing him hesitate, Song Jingmo teased: “Is your girlfriend too strict, so you don’t dare to take it?”

Lu Er was confused: “What girlfriend?”

Song Jingmo raised an eyebrow: “The one you just mentioned, and your social media posts.”

“I just—”

Lu Er swallowed the words “just making things up” and said: “I was only talking about my ideal type. I’m not dating anyone.”

Song Jingmo’s gaze darkened: “Is that so? You have to hide even from me?”

“I’m not hiding anything. I said I’m not dating anyone, which means I’m not dating anyone.”

“January 28th, 2019, you posted on social media worried your girlfriend would be cold at home.”

That was his first year in Junshi Castle.

That winter had been especially cold.

Lu Er recalled—it was true.

Smiling, he asked: “Are you going to see her?”

Song Jingmo was both angry and amused.

When someone is utterly speechless, they really do laugh.