A few days ago, she wouldn't even consider kissing him. But now, she was biding her time. She would kiss him later. It was definite.

  "You better get a good night's sleep if you're going to kick some ass in the morning," she practically shouted as she shot up. She snatched the plate from him and was about to sprint out when she heard him cough loudly.

  She was worried he was getting sick again. She kept the dish aside and spun around. His face was red and he was clearing his throat profusely. She quickly refilled his glass of water and handed it back to him.

  "Don't even dare to work after I leave," she warned as he chugged the water down.

  Why she felt so protective of him, she really didn't know. She fought the urge to check a grown man's temperature once again as she left his side.

  "We need to take your temperature again." She couldn't stop herself from saying.

  "I'm fine," he replied curtly.

  "Okay, I won't worry about you anymore." She kept the glass aside. "I should get going. My car was fixed already, so I'll take it back to the hotel."

  He raised his brow. "I am sure you caused mischief today," he started in a low and persuasive voice. "You already told the hotel you would be moving out. Just move into this house. It's the inevitable outcome."

  He shrugged when Qian Meng gaped at him.

  "That's not necessary. I'll go back tonight. Once we finalize the papers, I'll start moving in. With the media circus, it would be a bad move to move in with you."

  He looked dejected. "I understand," he said finally.

  "Sleep," she ordered. Before he could respond, Qian Meng was out of the door and closing it. She wanted to give him some space and quiet to finally sleep.

  Yun Qian Meng had gone back to the hotel and Mo Qingchen lay on his bed, staring at the ceiling.

  Sleep. Sleep evaded him. God, when had it started? He squeezed his eyes shut to remember.

  Memories from long ago flashed in front of him and a smile formed on his lips.

  He was twenty-one at the time, already heading Mo Building Solutions because his father was behind the bars and doing an amazing job at that. He rarely attended parties, but his mother had insisted he go to this one.

  Foreign dignitaries were coming and it was an excellent time to make connections in the business world in which he would live for the rest of his life.

  That was the first time he met Yun Qian Meng. He spotted the little girl from his corner of the room. At first, she skirted around people, listening to their conversation in that girlish blue dress of hers. Eventually, she started to blend in.

  Mo Qingchen had huffed and looked away, thinking she was like everyone else. That was until he heard someone clear their throat beside him. He had to tilt his head down to look at this tiny girl who looked at him with haughty eyes.

  No, she was not the first person to have that expression in them, but it was the streak of intelligence in those pretty eyes of hers that intrigued him.

  "What?" he said gruffly, still not out of his sulking and emo teenage years.

  "You're Mo Qingchen," she said in a confident manner. Mo Qingchen raised his brows and inspected her.

  "I know," he responded simply, making her jaw slacken. He could see the incredulity and petulance in her expression but ignored it for the most part.

  "I've spoken to everyone in this circle and come to the conclusion that you are the only person good enough for me to marry. Hence, I will have to lay out my terms in front of you. We're going to get married someday."

  Mo Qingchen let out a surprised chortle but paused.

  "Marriage?" he repeated. "You're a middle-schooler only thinking about romance. I'd never consider marriage to someone of no consequence."

  She gritted her teeth. "I'm Yun Qian Meng, I will amount to something. I already have," she said. "But I don't lurk around people who don't want me." She raised her chin and walked away.

  Mo Qingchen didn't know if she remembered this encounter, but it had made an impact on him. He had shrugged it off for the most part. But as he grew older, he kept tabs on the middle-schooler who had dared to propose to him. She was a genius, they said. Whatever she touched turned into gold and Mo Qingchen could see why she was so confident.

  But when he turned thirty-one and she twenty-five, he was sorely unhappy to find out that she had chosen a man of no importance or reputation.

  'Her taste has gotten worse,' he had thought and shrugged it off. He stopped keeping tabs on her. Sometimes, he would go out and find a companion to take to some party or spend the night with, yet he had no interest in a romantic entanglement.

  Three years and some months into the future, he turned on the news and felt something in him shift. He looked at a picture of Yun Qian Meng on the news. She was smiling… a little older than the last picture he had seen of her.

  "Business Tycoon Commits Suicide in Her Apartment."

  He blinked at the screen, turned the television off, and went back to work.

  Four days later, he couldn't contain his curiosity. He wanted to know why she did it. She was successful… not that much after her marriage, but still successful. Then, why? What had changed in those fourteen years since she declared she would marry him? What brought her to the brink?

  He found the location of her funeral and went. It was one of those rare occasions when he wore a suit. He entered the venue, littered with business moguls, politicians, and celebrities. He was not out of place and no one paid him any attention.