Contract Marriage: The Tycoon's Pampered Wife-Chapter 92 - 0: Want to watch a movie? (2 more updates)

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Chapter 92: 092: Want to watch a movie? (2 more updates)

"The cat at home is restless; I need to go soothe it."

With that, Quan Yu picked up his coat, draped it over his arm, and turned to leave the private room.

Only after he had disappeared from the doorway did Han Tai, reacting a bit slowly, ask the person beside him, "Does Mr. Quan have a cat?"

"Ahem..." Chi Zhengjun wanted to laugh but held it in. He choked on his drink, pressed his fist to his lips, and coughed for a while, squinting at Han Tai with a smile. "Just got it. Still not quite used to people, often bites."

「...」

At this moment, that biting cat—Miss Ning Guiwan—was sitting on her private deck, drying her hair.

After hanging up the phone, she had taken a shower. While drying her hair, she remembered the call.

Quan Yu’s remark, "How did I put it?" had skillfully blocked what she was going to say next.

Businessmen are so adept at these evasive tricks, Ning Guiwan grumbled internally. She could even imagine the leisurely and composed expression he must have had when he said it.

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.

"Miss Ning, there’s a visitor," said the voice of the room steward.

Each first-class cabin had a private deck, separated from the bedroom by a row of openwork wooden carvings and three glass sliding doors.

Ning Guiwan, fearing the knocking would disturb Lai Yang’s rest, quickly responded in a low voice and hurried to open the door. Fearing her footsteps were too loud, she simply went barefoot.

「...」

Quan Yu, hands in his pockets, waited unhurriedly for the door to open.

When the door opened, it revealed a girl who looked as if she had just stepped out of a bath. Her long, wet hair fell over her back and chest, her skin was so tender it seemed to be brimming with moisture, and her eyes were moist. She wore no coat, and her bare feet rested on the dark grey carpet. Her smooth nails had a faint pinkish hue.

Indescribably cute, he thought.

Ning Guiwan wasn’t particularly surprised to see who was standing outside. On this cruise, he was the only one likely to come looking for her.

A distant smile bloomed on her lips. "Do you need something?"

Quan Yu’s gaze fell on her face. "Want to watch a movie?"

That’s typical of someone who’s been a boss for a long time, always carrying an air of authority. Even inviting a girl to the movies is phrased as ’want to,’ rather than ’I’d like to invite you,’ Ning Guiwan thought.

Her smile deepened, graceful yet seductive. "Can I say no?"

Quan Yu seemed to watch her for a moment, then took a step forward. He reached out with his left hand to gently press down a stray tuft of her hair, then leaned in, looking at her with an indulgent air. "I’ll be waiting for you in the private theater on the third floor. Get ready and come over."

So tyrannical, Ning Guiwan watched his tall, retreating figure and couldn’t help but grumble internally again. Since he wasn’t giving me a choice, why bother with the charade of asking if I wanted to?

Her hair was thick and dense. It took a long time with a hairdryer to get it about seventy percent dry. After grabbing her coat and changing her shoes, it was over half an hour later when she finally reached the third floor.

The corridors had been crowded, but it was deserted near the theater. Apart from the staff, only the man was there. He was seated on a sofa in the lounge area, sipping coffee, his overcoat placed on the back of the sofa. Bodyguards stood at the entrance.

Ning Guiwan was no fool; she guessed he had cleared the area.

"Sorry for making you wait," Ning Guiwan said, though her face showed no hint of apology for her lateness.

Quan Yu stood up, picked up his overcoat, shook it out, and draped it over his left arm. He didn’t call out her insincerity. Instead, he bent his right arm, glanced down briefly, and motioned for Ning Guiwan to take it.

It wasn’t that Ning Guiwan hadn’t linked arms with him before, but the current situation felt different from previous occasions.

She didn’t move. Quan Yu wasn’t in a hurry either; he simply waited.

A silent contest began.

The man’s head remained lowered, his eyes shrouded in shadow. His pupils seemed to lose their usual color, turning pitch black, as deep as the sea.

Eventually, Ning Guiwan couldn’t hold out any longer.

She moved closer to Quan Yu and looped her arm through his.

Quan Yu glanced at the delicate hand resting on his shirtsleeve. His lips seemed to quirk upwards for a fleeting moment, but on closer inspection, they hadn’t. He maintained his usual impassive expression.

He led Ning Guiwan with practiced ease through the dim corridor. Projection room doors lined both sides of it, closely spaced. There was no one ahead or behind, and it was so quiet that the sound of their shoes on the carpet seemed audible.

At the end of the corridor, he turned a corner before stopping in front of the first projection room on the right.

As he pushed open the door, he withdrew his arm from Ning Guiwan’s hold and took her hand instead. The theater was pitch dark, but Quan Yu quickly flicked on the lights.

A circle of downlights and two wall sconces came on, but they didn’t illuminate the room much. Instead, the walls and floor were dappled with numerous shadows, creating a half-lit, half-dark ambiance.

Besides the projection equipment, there was only a loveseat, a coffee table laden with red wine and stemmed glasses, a fruit platter, champagne, cola, and popcorn.

The door closed, and a suffocating silence filled the space.

Ning Guiwan felt increasingly ill at ease, her thoughts uncontrollably drawn to Quan Yu.

In contrast, Quan Yu seemed perfectly relaxed and at ease. He draped his overcoat on the armrest of the loveseat, sat down, crossed his legs, and poured a glass of red wine. He held it without drinking, his gaze fixed on Ning Guiwan.

The girl stood in the interplay of light and shadow, her features possessing a unique, poignant charm.

He observed Ning Guiwan’s discomfort with an amused glint in his eyes and smiled. "Are you planning to watch standing up?"

As soon as he finished speaking, music filled the room from the sound system—a fast, cheerful melody. Ning Guiwan glanced at the screen and recognized it as an old American film, *Roman Holiday*.

The temperature inside the private theater was much warmer than outside. Ning Guiwan took off her red coat, draped it over the other armrest of the loveseat, and sat down beside Quan Yu.

The loveseat wasn’t very long, and only about a fist’s width of space separated them.

The black-and-white movie had officially started. Ning Guiwan tried hard to focus on the film but couldn’t. When Quan Yu rested his arm on the back of the loveseat behind her, her entire body tensed, as if all her nerves were being pulled taut.

The man’s breathing seemed to be right beside her ear, somehow piercing through the movie’s soundtrack to land directly on her eardrum.

"Did you pick this?" Ning Guiwan felt compelled to say something to break the excruciatingly tense atmosphere.

Quan Yu looked at her. His sculpted features appeared even more striking in the dim light, his lips, cool and hinting at restraint, curved slightly. Ning Guiwan recalled the eager glances the female staff in the cinema lobby had thrown his way, their expressions a mixture of wanting to look yet not daring to.

"Don’t like it?" Quan Yu asked in return.

He was clearly asking about the movie, but Ning Guiwan had the strange feeling he was asking about something else entirely.

"If you don’t like it, we can watch something else," Quan Yu said, starting to rise.

"Hey! No need to change it." Seeing him about to leave, Ning Guiwan quickly grabbed his wrist. It’s already been playing for about ten minutes; if they change it now, they’ll have to start over. "I was just asking. This film is quite good."

Quan Yu looked down at his wrist, which the girl was grasping.

Ning Guiwan, realizing what she’d done, hurriedly tried to pull her hand back.

But the moment she loosened her grip, Quan Yu caught her hand.

"Good, as long as you like it." The man sat down again, and the fist-width of space between them vanished. His unbuttoned suit jacket brushed against her dress, and he pressed her hand flat against his firm chest.

Ning Guiwan’s arm was forced straight, her palm burning as if it were on a hot stove.