Chapter 4 — Turns Out You Actually Like Me

He turned around, handing me a bottle of water, his voice remarkably gentle and calm.

Frightened, aren't you? It is entirely natural for a first-time mishap, nothing to be alarmed about. I have already dropped a message to your brother letting him know we will be running a bit late, and you should ping him as well to reassure him you are safe. We wouldn't want him worrying unnecessarily, would we?

By the time all the paperwork and formalities were settled, dusk had already fallen. I kept my head lowered, staring at the pavement in deep remorse.

I am so sorry for taking up so much of your time, and for dragging you into such an unpleasant mess.

He raised a hand and gently ruffled my hair.

There is no need to apologize to me. Not ever.

Even if you happen to encounter a similar situation on your own in the future, just stay calm and follow the proper protocol.

He paused for a brief moment, a faint, amusement-laden smile lingering in the depths of his eyes.

Though, next time you wish to practice driving, it is still best to have someone accompany you. If your brother happens to be occupied, you can always turn to me. Sound fair?

It was only then that I slowly recovered my wits from the lingering shock of the collision. Noticing that my complexion had yet to fully return to normal, he glanced at his watch and offered a lighthearted tease.

Look at it this way, at least this spared you from rushing over to serve as your brother's unpaid manual laborer.

The street lamps flickered to life just at that moment, their illumination sweeping across his smiling eyes and casting a soft, golden halo around his entire silhouette. I found myself staring in a daze. Those solemn vows and firm resolutions I had made earlier—swearing never to harbor feelings for him again—shattered and dissolved into nothingness in an instant. The man standing before me was composed, utterly dependable, and endlessly gentle. The truth was, the better I understood him, the deeper I fell; the harder I tried to run away, the faster I sank into the abyss.

By the time we reached the entrance of my brother’s bar, night had completely swallowed the sky. Even though my brother usually carried himself with a rather unreliable air, the establishment he had opened actually looked quite impressive and sophisticated. I followed close behind Cheng Chiet as we stepped inside. The atmosphere was lively and buzzing with energy. Nearly every table was occupied. I stood on my tiptoes, peering curiously around the room.

Where is my brother?

Over that way.

Cheng Chiet gave a subtle tilt of his chin toward a far corner. I followed his gaze and spotted my brother clad in a black apron, moving cheerfully back and forth between several tables of guests. Nguyen Han was there as well, helping to arrange wine glasses near the bar counter. Her long hair was loosely gathered at the nape of her neck, and her profile under the warm lighting appeared extraordinarily gentle and striking. She possessed the kind of harmless, effortless beauty that compelled even other women to cast a second or third appreciative glance. It was hardly a surprise that both my brother and Cheng Chiet held a soft spot for her.

Involuntarily, I glanced sideways at Cheng Chiet. His eyes were indeed directed toward that area, but his expression remained entirely neutral, concealing whatever thoughts ran through his mind. With practiced ease, he withdrew his gaze, lowered his head, and asked me.

Are you hungry? There should be some light snacks waiting in the kitchen.

No, not hungry at all.

I hurriedly waved my hand, trying to banish the chaotic and tangled thoughts swirling in my head. Cheng Chiet nodded, guiding me through the thick of the crowd to secure a table situated right beside a small stage. It was a rather lovely spot—offering a panoramic view of the entire bar while remaining far enough from the commotion to avoid the heavy noise.

Let us sit here.

He looked at me once more, his tone carrying a rare trace of hesitation.

Ah, right, I will likely need to go up and sing a number in a little while.

Oh? I blinked in surprise.

He pointed toward the small stage behind us, where a microphone stood upright alongside an acoustic guitar resting neatly on its stand.

Your brother insists on having me handle the opening performance.

I could not help but let out a soft chuckle.

My brother certainly knows how to boss people around without a second thought.

Who is to argue with that? Which is precisely why I am going to need your assistance.

With what?

Later, while I am singing up there, make sure you lead the applause from down here. If the atmosphere falls flat, it will be terribly embarrassing for me.

A man of his caliber worried about a lack of adoring fans? Yet, despite my silent amusement, I nodded earnestly in agreement. He smiled warmly, turned on his heel, and slipped into the backstage area to prepare. Bathed in the soft, ambient lighting of the stage, Cheng Chiet sat upon a high stool, cradling the wooden guitar in his arms with the microphone positioned precisely level with his chin. He wore a dark shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing a stretch of lean, sturdy forearms.