Isn't This a Contract Marriage? Why Are You Sneaking Kisses! - Chapter 10
The moment they recognized each other, both were stunned.
The sign in Shen Silie’s hand hung mid-air, his fingertips tightening slightly.
Shang Jichen looked at the notice in Shen Silie’s hand and was the first to react. “Are you closed now?”
“In twenty minutes.” Shen Silie shook his head and put the sign down, his tone gentle. “What would you like to buy?”
Shang Jichen’s gaze lingered on him for a few seconds. He lowered his eyes, and it took a long moment before he spoke: “I wanted to buy a cake…”
Shen Silie paused. He originally wanted to say there wasn’t enough time to make a cake, but then he caught Shang Jichen’s inexplicably restless expression.
After hesitating for two seconds, he changed his wording.
“No problem, but if it’s for a birthday, there isn’t enough time to custom-make a large cake. I can make you a small one, though. Would you like that?”
Shen Silie gestured with his hands to show the size.
Shang Jichen was silent for a while, his breathing heavy. After a long time, he changed his mind: “I don’t need a cake anymore.”
Shen Silie blinked. “Our shop’s cream-filled bread is quite good. Would you like to try that?”
Shang Jichen hesitated for a few seconds before slowly nodding.
Shen Silie brought over the menu and handed it to the man.
Shang Jichen looked it over and asked, “Is there anything a bit sweeter?”
A bit sweeter?
Shen Silie furrowed his brows, finding the man’s description a bit strange, but he began to make recommendations anyway.
Because the menu was in Shang Jichen’s hands and the height difference between them was significant, Shen Silie leaned forward. Half of his body was close to the man as he introduced the items one by one.
The warm lights cast a soft, hazy glow over Shen Silie.
Shang Jichen kept his eyes on the menu, but soon, his mind was distracted by the breath falling near his hand.
That mysterious scent of orange blossoms from Shen Silie’s body swirled around him, seemingly searing into his skin along with the youth’s warm breath.
Shang Jichen moved his gaze away from the menu. His eyes drifted over the youth’s collarbone, slowly moving up to his features, landing on the three unique black moles at the corner of his eye, before descending bit by bit to his rosy lips.
As Shen Silie introduced the desserts, his lips moved, revealing a glimpse of his pale pink tongue, looking like some kind of fruit pulp.
It made one want to take a gentle bite just to taste it.
Shang Jichen stared blankly. Even for someone as insensitive to looks as he was, he had to admit: the youth before him was exceptionally beautiful. He looked like a noble young master born to be pampered and cherished—someone who should be reckless, proud, cheerful, and haughty.
Yet, he didn’t feel haughty or distant. There was an inexplicable contradiction, a certain sense of fragmentation.
Shang Jichen couldn’t help but study him closely, wondering where exactly that point of contradiction lay.
When Shen Silie finished his introduction, he looked up and met Shang Jichen’s gaze head-on.
Shen Silie froze, then hurriedly lowered his head and asked, “Is there a specific flavor you’d like?”
Shang Jichen retracted his gaze. His eyes swept over the menu, and he replied instinctively: “Creamy Orange Bread. Two of them.”
“Alright, please wait here for a moment.” Shen Silie took the menu and turned to head into the back kitchen.
Shang Jichen didn’t choose to sit down. He simply stood by the counter where he could see the corner of the back kitchen through the glass partition, waiting quietly.
Ten minutes later, Shen Silie walked out carrying two packaged pieces of bread. Through the transparent boxes, one could see a fine dusting of powdered sugar on the surface; even a glance made them look delicious.
“Your Creamy Orange Bread.” Shen Silie placed the bread in a carry bag and handed it to the man. “Take care on your way.”
Shang Jichen took the sweets and said in a low voice, “Thank you.”
Shen Silie nodded. Just as he thought Shang Jichen was about to leave, the man stayed where he was, bag in hand.
Shen Silie looked confused.
Shang Jichen gazed at him, his voice half a degree softer than before: “Does the injury on your leg still hurt?”
Shen Silie paused, then shook his head with a small smile. “It’s just a minor injury. It healed long ago.”
Shang Jichen gave a slight nod and turned to leave.
The wind chimes rang as he reached the door.
The door closed.
Shang Jichen’s footsteps faltered by the transparent glass window. He paused and tilted his head slightly.
Unaware of the movement outside the door and lacking the energy to observe his surroundings, Shen Silie slowly lowered his head.
Thinking there was no one around, he no longer hid his state.
The energy he had been forcing for so long seemed to drain away instantly, and he radiated a profound, heavy fatigue from the inside out.
In that moment, Shang Jichen finally understood what that contradiction was.
The youth’s appearance was clearly that of a precious flower kept in a crystal vase—meant to be placed on a high pedestal, nurtured with care, and looked up to. Yet, his eyes carried a melancholy that wouldn’t dissipate.
The boy was like a piece of fruit soaked in honey; he was sweet, but he had already turned bitter.
The person involved seemed to know this, so he performed perfectly in front of others—at the hospital that day, in front of his friends, and now while serving him. His expressions and tone were perfectly measured.
It was as if he had practiced them countless times in private.
The more he tried to hide it, the more obvious it became. He possessed a near-self-destructive resilience—sensitive and easily broken.
Like a rose that should have been carefully tended in a garden, but was mistakenly born in the sandy soil of the seaside. Unable to draw nutrients, no matter how stubborn it was, it would eventually wither.
Slowly, in the tides that no one knew about.
Through the transparent glass, Shang Jichen’s gaze lingered on Shen Silie’s eyes for second after second.
Finally, at the sound of a car horn, Shang Jichen snapped back to reality.
He slowly moved his gaze away and looked at the bag of bread in his hand. He hesitated for two seconds, as if making a decision.
Ultimately, he made no further move and walked straight away from the little shop.
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