“Alright, alright, I won’t bring it up.” Xu Qiqi mumbled as she walked toward the dining table, muttering under her breath, “Every time we fight, you hole up in your office, refusing to come home until the middle of the night. I leave the lights on so you won’t lose your way.”
As she spoke, a hint of grievance crept into her tone, one that she couldn’t quite conceal.
Chang Yan’an stood against the light, the shadows sharpening the contours of his face, making his expression even harder to read. He stared at her slender back, momentarily dazed.
Which of her words were true?
Which were false?
Pressing his lips together, he suddenly asked, “Didn’t you say you didn’t like those flowers? Why did you bring them back again?”
He hadn’t forgotten how many times they had fought over those roses.
Just yesterday, she had almost torn the whole house apart over them.
Xu Qiqi stopped mid-step in front of the dining table. Hearing his question, she froze for a moment before replying softly, “Because you like them.”
After speaking, she picked up the kettle to pour some water. But somehow, her grip slipped, and the kettle crashed onto the floor with a loud bang, water splashing everywhere.
She let out a startled gasp, standing frozen in place, at a complete loss.
Chang Yan’an’s pupils contracted sharply. In an instant, he lost his usual calm and rushed over, sweeping her off the ground into his arms.
She was wearing slippers, her calves and the tops of her feet were drenched, and even a large part of her skirt was soaked through.
“How can you be so careless?” His words sounded like scolding, but his actions spoke otherwise—without hesitation, he carried her straight to the kitchen.
Xu Qiqi quickly masked the triumph in her eyes, putting on a frightened expression instead. Wrapping her arms tightly around his neck, she trembled slightly and said in a shaky voice, “My hand hurts.”
“Did the water splash onto your hand?”
Chang Yan’an set her down on the kitchen counter, reaching to turn on the faucet to rinse her feet while simultaneously trying to inspect her hand.
But before he could even check her hand, his brows furrowed.
The moment his palm touched her ankle, he realized something was off.
Instead of the scalding heat he had expected… her skin was icy cold.
Straightening up slowly, he fixed his gaze on Xu Qiqi.
A flicker of guilt flashed across her face as she stammered out, “I boiled the water at noon… it’s not hot anymore.”
“Then why…” Why did you act like you were burned?
Mid-sentence, he suddenly paused, as if something clicked in his mind.
Just now—she had simply stood there.
She hadn’t screamed in pain.
She hadn’t made a fuss.
The only one panicking had been him.
Chang Yan’an took a deep breath, rubbing his temples. Turning around, he prepared to leave.
But before he could step away—
His sleeve was caught.
“My hand hurts.”
“Stop pretending.”
Chang Yan’an’s tone was already tinged with impatience, but Xu Qiqi only became more insistent, her voice taking on an exaggerated, coquettish whimper. “It really hurts.”
At his limit, Chang Yan’an turned around and grabbed her wrist. The strength difference between men and women was obvious—he barely exerted any force, and she immediately let go.
Yet, just as his anger was about to flare up, it was doused in an instant.
Her palm was covered in tiny, crisscrossed wounds.
His grip slackened, and when he looked up, he met her large, misty eyes, glistening with unshed tears. They clung to the edge of her lashes, threatening to fall at any moment.
This kind of silent accusation was far more unsettling than her usual shouting and screaming.
From the moment she had entered the house, she had never once hidden the fact that her hand was hurting.
He just… hadn’t believed her.
A strange sense of guilt rose in his chest. Without another word, he turned off the faucet and reached out, scooping her back into his arms. She struggled for a moment, but his strength was undeniable, and soon she was nestled against him, neither completely resisting nor fully yielding.
There was a first-aid kit at home. He disinfected her wounds, applied medicine, and wrapped them carefully in bandages.
The entire time, neither of them spoke.
A heavy silence settled over the house, stretching between them like an invisible thread, taut and unbreakable.
Xu Qiqi sat slumped on the sofa, her hair disheveled, her dress damp, and her hands wrapped up like dumplings—completely and utterly bedraggled.
Meanwhile, he… aside from the slight dampness of his clothes, remained pristine, composed, and immaculately put together.
“I’ll go boil some water. You should wash up and sleep early.”
After tidying up the first-aid kit, Chang Yan’an was just about to stand up and leave when a faint sob stopped him in his tracks.
Lowering his gaze, he saw her quickly turning her head away, biting her lip as she cried quietly.
She was beautiful—even her tears carried a kind of delicate, heart-wrenching fragility.
The dim lighting cast a shadow across her delicate features, highlighting the smooth curve of her jaw. Her long lashes fluttered ever so slightly, and tears fell one after another, like pearls slipping off a broken string, leaving dark stains on the white gauze wrapped around her hands.
The hand at his side slowly curled into a fist. His fingertips brushed against his palm once, twice—
And then, he finally spoke.
“Why are you crying?”
The moment he opened his mouth, Xu Qiqi’s tear-filled eyes snapped toward him, glaring.
“None of your business.”
Chang Yan’an stood there for two seconds, unmoving.
Then, without another word, he turned and walked away, not sparing her a second glance.
Xu Qiqi fumed.
Could he not say even one more sentence? Just one!
Watching as he neared the hallway, about to leave the living room, she suddenly jumped up—barefoot—and chased after him.
Catching up, she pressed him firmly against the wall at the base of the staircase.
And then—
She tiptoed and kissed him.
Yet, he turned his head away, dodging her lips.
Xu Qiqi, however, was clearly experienced—her initial kiss was just a feint.
Before he could react, she bit down directly on his Adam’s apple.
Chang Yan’an’s face darkened immediately, his Adam’s apple involuntarily shifting under her teeth.
He reached out, intending to push her away.
But the moment his hand landed on her, she simply placed her injured hands there instead.
No matter where he tried to push her, she would shift her bandaged fingers into his way, effectively rendering him unable to move her at all.
She was relentless.
Her lips and tongue toyed with his neck, leaving behind a trail of damp, teasing heat. Soft, infuriating kissing sounds filled the quiet air.
“Xu Qiqi!”
“I even replanted your damn flowers—what’s wrong with you fulfilling some basic marital duties?”
Her voice was righteous, completely unapologetic.
Ignoring her injured hands, she wrapped her arms tightly around his neck, her legs kicking as she clung onto his waist, refusing to let go.
The moment Chang Yan’an heard her first sentence, his expression darkened.
“I’ve told you countless times—those flowers are not mine.”
“Mhm, mhm, sure, sure,” Xu Qiqi responded absentmindedly, nodding in perfunctory agreement. At the same time, she nibbled on his earlobe and used her fingertips to hook his glasses off his nose. Pressing her lips against his ear, she whispered in a deliberately soft voice, “Hubby, let’s make up, okay? I promise I won’t argue with you anymore.”
She had finally come to realize—arguing was useless. It only pushed him further away.
It was better to listen to her aunt’s advice: just seduce him, sleep with him, and have his child. That way, she could tie him to her for life.
“Get down first.”
Without his glasses, Chang Yan’an’s vision blurred slightly, making him squint in discomfort.
But how could Xu Qiqi possibly let go now? She had meticulously set up this scenario—there was no way she’d give up so easily. Taking advantage of her position and the absence of his glasses, she lowered her head and kissed him, boldly hooking her tongue into his mouth.
This old-fashioned man—his mouth says no, but his body is very honest.
She was wearing a skirt, the thin fabric leaving nothing to the imagination. Every subtle change in his body was perfectly clear to her.
Watching as his usually cold and detached eyes grew hazy, tinged with a trace of burning red, she leaned into his ear and exhaled softly. “Hubby, I want you inside me.”
As she spoke, she deliberately adjusted her posture, making herself slip slightly downward.
Seeing that she was about to fall, Chang Yan’an instinctively reached out to catch her—
His palm landed directly on smooth, bare skin.
His breath hitched.
And when she kissed him again, he no longer avoided it. His hand pressed against the back of her head, deepening the kiss without hesitation.
They stumbled from the first floor to the second, tangled in each other.
It wasn’t until they finally collapsed onto the bed that he allowed her to unbutton his shirt.
Hypocrite.
She cursed him in her heart, yet at the same time, she arched her waist, pressing closer.
Seeing her adept movements, a flicker of complexity flashed through Chang Yan’an’s eyes.
In the next second, he grabbed her hips with force, pushing her down, flipping their positions.
—
“Zhou Yinghuai, I think these flowers look a little wilted.”
Nestled in a chair on the balcony, Cheng Fangqiu spoke with her mouth full, her words slightly muffled.
Hearing this, Zhou Yinghuai followed her gaze. Sure enough, the blooming roses that had been so vibrant during the day now seemed somewhat droopy.
He had never cared for flowers before, so he frowned slightly. “I’ll ask someone about it tomorrow.”
After speaking, he scooped up a spoonful of food, gently blew on it to cool it down, and then brought it to her lips.
Cheng Fangqiu nodded at his response, then lazily focused on enjoying his meticulous care.
He fed her one spoonful at a time, and she obediently ate each bite. Before long, the bowl was scraped clean. Just as she saw him reaching for more, she quickly stopped him. “No more, I’m full.”
Zhou Yinghuai then used a handkerchief to carefully wipe the oil from the corner of her lips before getting up to serve himself a portion.
His long legs made his steps quick—he was back in no time.
He ate just as efficiently. His movements were neither rushed nor slow, carrying a disciplined elegance, revealing the refined upbringing he had received.
Cheng Fangqiu found herself watching with great interest.
However, the more she watched, the more something felt off.
Just a few minutes had passed, yet he had nearly cleared all the food on the table.
She hurriedly spoke up, “Slow down! No one’s going to steal your food.”
A light breeze swept across the balcony, rustling Zhou Yinghuai’s hair. He lifted his gaze slightly, responding in an unhurried tone, “Mm.”
But in the next second, he was already stacking the empty bowls and dishes, piling them into a small tower, and taking them to the kitchen.
What’s he in such a hurry for?
The moment Zhou Yinghuai left, leaving her alone on the balcony, Cheng Fangqiu shivered slightly.
Something felt eerie.
Sure enough, in the next instant, a mosquito buzzed past her eyes.
Afraid of being bitten, she immediately got up and shut the balcony doors and windows.
Zhou Yinghuai was washing dishes in the kitchen. Cheng Fangqiu glanced at him briefly before retracting her gaze.
Finding herself with nothing to do, she pulled out the elegant paper she had bought earlier in the day.
But then—who was she supposed to invite to the wedding?
She wasn’t sure, so she didn’t start writing right away. Instead, she decided to draft a layout for the invitations first.
Hesitating for a moment, she picked up her pen and tentatively wrote “Zhou Yinghuai” in the upper left corner.
She had learned calligraphy as a child, and her handwriting had always been bold and elegant.
But it had been a long time since she last practiced, and now, her strokes felt slightly stiff. No matter how she looked at it, she found it unsatisfactory.
So, she wrote his name again.
She was so engrossed in writing that she didn’t even notice when Zhou Yinghuai had come to stand behind her.
It wasn’t until he spoke softly that she suddenly realized his presence.
“Not bad.”
Startled, Cheng Fangqiu’s hand jerked, and the pen slipped, leaving an unsightly black streak across the paper.
“When did you get here? You scared me to death.”
She patted her chest, trying to steady her racing heartbeat.