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The Eight Characters Do Not Match
墨書 Inktalez
I didn't know why, but my first reaction upon seeing Song Mingyu was to flee in panic.
He saw me running wildly through the bustling streets, and his sharp brows furrowed in displeasure. In a swift motion, he dashed over, grabbed me, and questioned, "Zhu Jiu Jiu, what kind of medicine have you taken? Every time you see me, you act like you've seen a ghost. Am I really that terrible?"
I dared not speak, nervously swallowing hard.
If I were to describe Song Mingyu, he was undoubtedly a man of unparalleled beauty, like cold jade.
His tall and slender figure was striking enough, but those eyes, dark and piercing like stars, could captivate anyone's soul. What girl could resist falling for him, wishing to throw herself into his arms at once?
Everyone has an appreciation for beauty, and I was no exception.
But the irony was that I had always felt powerless in my admiration for Song Mingyu. Every time I saw him, my legs would tremble inexplicably, my teeth would clench tightly. Within moments, I would be drenched in sweat and faint away.
To me, Song Mingyu was like a poison.
"Zhu Jiu Jiu," he said with disdain as he turned his face away from me. "Just because my mother likes you and wants to matchmake us doesn't mean I will accept you."
It seemed that since I could remember, Song Mingyu had never shown any particular affection for any girl; the only one he could tolerate was me, his childhood neighbor.
I often suspected he might have a preference for men; otherwise, why was he still unmarried at this age?
But given the current situation, I couldn't afford to think too much.
He stood so close to me that I could almost distinctly smell his strong masculine scent—a unique blend of herbs and musk—that made me even more anxious.
"Don't come any closer! I... I..." My cheeks flushed as if I were ill, my heart racing suddenly as if it would leap out of my throat.
“What’s wrong with you?” He raised an eyebrow and slowly leaned closer, the warm breath escaping his lips brushing gently against my neck, making me feel utterly uncomfortable.
“Don’t you dislike me? Then why is your heart racing so fast?”
I pressed my hand against my wildly beating heart, internally lamenting. I truly didn’t have feelings for Song Mingyu; it was just that my old problem had flared up again. I could barely hold it in—I was about to... throw up.
And then I really did throw up, without any warning, directly onto Song Mingyu’s white shirt. I fell backward uncontrollably.
In these eighteen years, I had never encountered such an embarrassing situation. It seemed that my “Song Mingyu Aversion Syndrome” had worsened.
In my fading consciousness, I saw Song Mingyu's eyes widen in shock as he stared at the stain on his chest, his expression as if he were about to faint.
I thought he would abandon me, leaving me to lie on the street for others to gawk at.
Instead, without a word, he didn’t even have time to take off his outer coat before he swiftly scooped me up and rushed toward the clinic in a panic.
In my dazed state, I noticed that his eyes no longer held the usual indifference but were filled with deep concern.
Had I misjudged him? Wasn’t Song Mingyu supposed to hate me the most?
My claim that Song Mingyu disliked me wasn’t unfounded.
He had always been a sickly child, while my parents ran a clinic and were family friends with his family. To make it easier for him to receive treatment, my parents brought him to the clinic, saying it would also be good for me to have company.
Unfortunately, though, Song Mingyu and I had never gotten along well. I remembered when I was younger; just seeing him would make me scream and cry as if the world was ending.
As I grew a little older, I became somewhat closer to Song Mingyu, but we still couldn’t be in the same room together. Over time, I would break out in rashes and my legs would turn weak.
My father checked my pulse and said I was suffering from deficiencies in both my Heart and Spleen.
I ended up taking several doses of medicine without seeing any improvement. Later, they combined our birth dates and concluded it was "Destined Love." What kind of nonsense divination is this?!
His mother likes me and is especially pleased, insisting that we choose a date to get married.
Oh dear, Auntie, do you want me to die from coughing up blood before even stepping into the bridal chamber?
Song Mingyu is even more infuriating. He actually said in front of my parents that he would rather marry a hunchbacked, lame woman than me, this crazy fake woman.
What have I done? All I did was scream and shiver when I saw him, occasionally picking up a dustpan to hit him on the head;
All I did was enjoy a snowball fight outside while he lay sick in bed;
And when he was too scared to eat anything, I shamelessly indulged in braised pork knuckle right in front of him with my round belly on display.
So, I resolutely moved out of the clinic, vowing never to have anything to do with Song Mingyu again.
But today, I unexpectedly ran into him. Is it really fate at play?
Bah, what a jinx.
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