When Love Turns Cold

Winter loved ceviche, so she picked ceviche made from fresh salmon and some other common seafood dishes.

Miranda wasn’t used to eating raw food. She picked pasta and cured fish slices.Exclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.

The pasta tasted average, but the ingredients were exceptionally fresh.

Noting that she was more modest with her choice of food, Winter teased her. ” This salmon is really tender. Are you sure you don’t want to try some? Who knows, you might come to enjoy it.”

Miranda declined. “You know me, I can’t accept raw food. I’ll just have my pasta.”

“All these years, and you haven’t changed a bit.

From the first day Winter had met Miranda, she’d realized the latter’s preferences never changed. Likewise, the things she hated remained the same.

Winter continued, “As a matter of fact, I’ve missed the spa for a few days now. My hands have become coarse.”

She sighed at the mention of this. She commented, “It’s all my dad’s fault. He’s been urging me to go on blind dates recently. Not only did my mom allow him to do so, but she also helped him trick me.

“It’s not like they can’t afford to let me live with them. Why would they go to that extent? Besides, if a genius like Paul is still single, why should I worry about marriage?”

At the mention of Paul, Miranda remembered that it had been some time.

since she’d last met him.

Although they were neighbors, they were both busy with their own matters. Since the day they’d had fondue together, she’d only met him once when she’d given him some sandwiches.

Winter didn’t realize that Miranda was distracted. She took a piece of cured fish slice as she recalled what had happened the last time. “What happened. after you visited Dr. Young with Paul?”

+15 BONUS

Miranda took another bite of her pasta. She chewed and swallowed before telling Winter what happened.

“That’s the whole story. Dr. Young reserved a spot for me, so I must pass the postgraduate admission exams this year.”

Winter clapped her hands. “Way to go! I like it when you’re confident! As a reward, I’ll take you somewhere this weekend. How about that?”

Miranda asked, “Where would that be?”

“You’ll know when the time comes.”

After lunch, Winter drove Miranda back to the library since the latter strongly insisted on it. It was still early, and she could study a little more.

After completing two sets of exercises, she looked up and noticed that the sun was already setting. Her seat was by the window. The golden rays fell through the window and cast a golden hue over her, radiating warmth.

Miranda stretched. She’d just packed her books and exercises when she heard the broadcast reminding the library patrons that the library was closing.

Picking up her bag, she left on time.

The orange sunset set the sky on fire. Colors overlapped each other, starting out pale and ending with a deep, rich tone. It was like a vibrant oil painting.

Miranda slowed down as she started thinking about dinner. Before she realized it, she reached her apartment, where a black figure appeared out of nowhere.

One week ago, Paul’s latest experiment had yielded a data error. He’d stayed up for days repeating the steps, but the results had been unsatisfactory.

The coordinator was a middle–aged man in his 40s, Blake Gibson. He’d been there from the start since Paul had taken over the research.

Now that there was something wrong with the experiment, Blake seemed worried. “The results showed that we were in the right direction in the beginning. We’d been carrying out the experiment as usual. Why would there

LISBONUS

be an error?”

Paul frowned. “The purpose of carrying out experiments is so that we can make trials and errors. The results aren’t everything.”

“But when there is a data error, it means there’s a mistake. We’ve repeated the same mistake dozens of times. Is one whole week insufficient to prove that?”

Blake glanced at Paul. He tentatively asked, “Why don’t we stop when we can since we can’t proceed any further? It’s not wrong to try another method.”

Paul was expressionless. Through his glasses, his sharp gaze landed on Blake. “Are you worried that the experiment will fail?

Or perhaps you think Dr. Green’s method is more aligned with your idea of prioritizing profits?”