Chapter 40 Can We Get a Little Closer?

Nan Xiao thought for a moment, then answered honestly: “I was having dinner with a friend from the crew. He had to leave suddenly, so I just kept eating by myself.”

“He’s an actor—his social life is supposed to stay private. I didn’t want anyone knowing about us, so I kind of… lied by default.”

Her tone was sincere, and the excuse made sense. Still, Xie Chengyu sensed something off.

He narrowed his eyes slightly. “Your friend is male?”

Nan Xiao had been about to say ‘female’—mostly because it would be easier. Less trouble. A woman wouldn’t raise any red flags.

But then she paused. Why had Xie Chengyu found her house so precisely? Had he figured something out?

A flicker of caution crossed her mind. She couldn’t lie anymore.

“Yes,” she said, nodding.

Then she shifted gears, her voice firm. “How did you even know where I live?”

“I had Zhou Wen check,” Xie Chengyu replied, completely unbothered. His tone was casual, as if snooping into her life was perfectly normal.

“I need to make sure you’re safe.”

Nan Xiao pressed her lips together. Not *her* safety—he wasn’t protecting her. He was protecting himself, making sure he could answer to Grandfather Xie without failing.

“You still hungry?”
Though he said it, Xie Chengyu felt a little guilty. He changed the subject instinctively, glancing at the full hot pot on the table. “You want to keep eating?”

Nan Xiao nodded.

“Then I’ll join you,” he said. “I’m still starving.”

She blinked. “You’re… eating with me?”

“Yeah.” He looked at her. “Is that a problem?”

“No, no problem.” She stood up. “Let me get you a fresh set of utensils. Wait a sec.”

She went into the kitchen, baffled. Why was he suddenly joining her? But whatever—he could eat if he wanted to.

Watching her back, Xie Chengyu’s gaze darkened.

For some reason, her cooking always seemed to linger in his thoughts. It wasn’t like her food was gourmet—she wasn’t even close to the level of those five-star chefs. Yet he never missed their meals, not once. Why did hers stick in his mind?

Soon she returned, handing him a clean bowl and chopsticks. She opened the pot and explained how long each ingredient needed to cook.

Slowly, Xie Chengyu began dipping and stirring. His movements were deliberate, unhurried. By the time he’d eaten half a bowl, he noticed the mask on her face.

“You’re not eating?” he asked.

“No,” she shook her head. “I’m pretty full. Just trying to eat light tonight.”

That was clearly a lie. Xie Chengyu raised an eyebrow. “Do you take your mask off around your friend?”

She had taken it off earlier during dinner. Now it was glued back on like armor. The inconsistency bothered him.

“Yes,” she admitted.

“So why not with me?”

The question caught her off guard.

She hesitated, then said, “I’m afraid I’ll scare you.”

Before she’d regained her face, there were two grotesque scars across her cheeks—ugly, raw, enough to make kids cry when they saw her.

Xie Chengyu set down his chopsticks. He met her eyes.

“I’m not scared.”

It sounded like polite nonsense to her. She lowered her gaze, silent.

He knew the topic was sensitive. He let it go.

The meal ended quickly—under ten minutes. Xie Chengyu left before she could starve him to death.

On the way home, he replayed the image of Nan Xiao’s “male actor friend” in his mind. He ran through every man he’d seen on set. None matched.

At a red light, he pulled up the photo Zhou Wen had sent him. Studied the man’s build again. Was there someone who looked similar?

Then, suddenly, he laughed at himself.

Why did he care? He didn’t even like her. Why was he digging into this?

He closed his phone with a quiet chuckle.

Later that night, just before bed, Nan Xiao’s phone rang.

She stared at the screen—the name “Dad” glowing faintly. It felt strange. How long had it been since she’d called him that?

She lowered her eyes, then tapped the answer button.

“Hello? What’s so urgent at this hour?”

“Xiaoxiao,” her father’s voice came through, sharp and commanding. “Next Monday is my birthday. You’ll bring Chengyu home for dinner.”

Nan Xiao frowned. She’d planned to go alone—but arguing over the phone wasn’t worth it.

Fine. She’d go. And if her father tried to drag Chengyu back by force? Well, she’d handle it herself.

She gave a curt reply. “Got it.”

Normally, her father would hang up right after. But this time, he didn’t. He added a few words before ending the call.

Nan Xiao sat on the edge of her bed, replaying his last sentences in her head. Her chest tightened.

She hadn’t expected him to act so fast…

Still, she had no choice. She had to bring Chengyu.

Minutes later, she lay down. But sleep didn’t come. Not for hours.

The next morning, around seven-thirty, she guessed Chengyu had woken up. She dialed him.

“Hey, Mr. Xie. Got time this morning? I wanna talk.”

Chengyu had just finished working out in his home gym. He stepped into the bathroom as he spoke. “Come by at nine thirty.”

She hung up. Then, thinking pragmatically—*you gotta ask nicely*—she headed to the kitchen and baked a few pastries.

By nine-ten, she hailed a cab and headed to the Xie Group headquarters.

She’d brought food here countless times over the past three years of marriage. She knew the route like the back of her hand.

She walked straight into the CEO’s office, placed the pastry box on the desk, and said, “Mr. Xie, I made some snacks. If you don’t mind, try them.”

He glanced at her.

Now she called him “Mr. Xie” all the time. Had she always been this distant?

“Hmm. Pretty good,” he said, taking a bite of a cookie. He chewed slowly, wiped his hands with a wet wipe, then looked up. “What do you need?”

“My dad’s birthday is next Monday. Can you come with me to the party?”

He hadn’t expected that. “Sure,” he said, nodding.

Last time, she’d gone with him to a family gathering. Fair was fair—he agreed without hesitation.

But Nan Xiao’s expression twisted slightly.

“I have one more request,” she said quietly. “Could you… pretend to be a little closer to me? Like, more than just… acquaintances?”

Xie Chengyu lifted his head. His dark eyes locked onto hers—unreadable.

“I don’t mean anything by it,” she added quickly. “I just need to look good in front of my dad. I need to show him I’ve got things under control.”