Chapter 13: Obedience

"You really can't stand me, can you." Fu Wenzhou spoke in a hoarse voice, his gaze darkening further. When he lifted his head again, his eyes were filled entirely with obsessive desire—a look Song Qingyou knew all too well.

It was the prelude to his madness.

She hurriedly stepped back, but was swept up in his arms with a force bordering on terrifying, pressed against the tea cabinet behind her. The teaware clattered together with a loud ringing crash.

"What's gotten into you now?" Song Qingyou, embarrassed and furious, found her composure shattered in his presence. "You said you wouldn't bother me again."

Fu Wenzhou easily seized her wrists, raising them and pinning them above her head. "All you ever do is try to drive me away."

He pressed in so close their bodies fit together perfectly, his palm caressing her delicate cheek.

Song Qingyou had nowhere left to retreat. She wanted to push him away, but feared touching his wounds, so she could only glare at him in anger. "Fu Wenzhou, what do you want from me?"

Fu Wenzhou bent down, his face against her neck, his breathing growing more urgent with every breath, warming her collarbone. "I'm covered in wounds, and you can't even be bothered to apply medicine. Song Qingyou, sometimes I wonder if your heart is made of stone."

Her throat tickled, her face flushed, and she turned her head to escape his scorching gaze.

"Are you this cold to everyone, or just to me?" Fu Wenzhou's palm moved languidly along her carotid artery, his slender eyes gently hooked. Suddenly, he tightened his grip, forcing her to meet his gaze. "Three years ago, I knelt in the rain and begged you not to marry. The indifference and ruthlessness you showed then—I remember it still."

He seemed to be questioning himself, stubborn and focused. "Why? Why can Fu Tingshen have you, but not me?"

Song Qingyou's patience snapped. She slapped his hand away with a sharp crack, and in the brief respite, she started coughing violently.

Fu Wenzhou panicked immediately, released her, and turned to find medicine. He cradled the pills carefully and handed her a glass of water. "Qingyou, be good, take your medicine."

She usually complained about the bitterness, preferring to endure discomfort rather than swallow it, but today her insides felt as if they might cough themselves out. Her hands trembled as she took the cup, forcing herself to swallow the pills.

The acrid bitterness made her brows furrow, and just then, something was pushed into her mouth—a rush of sugary sweetness spread across her tongue: a piece of candy.

Fu Wenzhou coaxed in a low voice, "With the candy, it won't taste bitter anymore."

All the madness and anger that had just burned in his eyes vanished in an instant, replaced by the obedient gentleness of a loyal dog.

"You..." After the medicine, her itching eased, and she finally looked up at him. Her eyes were damp from coughing, and she squeezed out a single sentence: "How can you be so shameless!"

He had just been interrogating her like a madman, forcing her, and now he was humbling himself to coax her. Who acted like this?

She had driven him away countless times, rejected him both openly and secretly, but he acted as if he never heard, apologizing only when she was truly angry, disappearing for a couple of days, then clinging to her again. Even Porridge wasn't as persistent as he was!

From his angle, Song Qingyou sat slightly sideways, her skin snowy white, peach blossom eyes naturally filled with tenderness, shimmering with moisture. Her voice was soft and melodious, half angry, half coy.

Fu Wenzhou not only wasn't annoyed, but felt an odd thrill rising within him. The more she scolded, the stranger the excitement in his body grew.

"Qingyou, scold me a bit more," Fu Wenzhou's Adam's apple bobbed, his dark eyes pressing down on her.

Song Qingyou: "..."

She ignored him, escaped his grasp, and sat down on the sofa. "Are you going to the charity auction hosted by the Ruan family?"

"No." Fu Wenzhou inhaled deeply, letting the lotus fragrance unique to her drift in. He sighed in contentment.

Song Qingyou frowned at his reply. "Haven't you always worked with the Ruan family? Are you really going to offend Old Master Ruan?"

Fu Wenzhou fetched a fruit knife from the kitchen and began peeling an apple for her. "I've hired a professional team to handle business for the Fu Corporation. I don't negotiate those deals myself."

Her lashes lifted gently. "Go."

It wasn't a question, merely a statement.

Fu Wenzhou let out a lazy chuckle. "Qingyou, requests require something in exchange."

She thought for a moment. "Lin Niaoniao is pregnant with the Fu family's child. According to the old man's will, she'll inherit an extra share. Whatever she takes, let Uncle Chang know, and I'll repay you later."

Fu Wenzhou's peeling paused, his eyes dark and silent. After a long moment, his lips pressed together, his voice rough. "No need to wait. There's no time like the present."

He suddenly leaned in. Song Qingyou instinctively moved back. Years of experience had taught her to expect his kisses; her slender, pale hand blocked his lips.

Fu Wenzhou's thin lips hovered only a centimeter away. Seeing her wary expression, he laughed hoarsely, his voice hooked with mischief. "Qingyou, I just..."

Song Qingyou's hands were naturally small, palms soft, fingers slender like collectibles. His broad hand easily enveloped hers.

Her complexion was pale, tinged with pink from illness, her irises a gentle tea brown, clear as glass.

The lotus fragrance she carried made Fu Wenzhou want to kiss her every time he drew near, to taste its sweetness. But he could only think about it—he couldn't bear to actually do anything to her.

He stared down at her for a long time before putting a piece of apple in her mouth, withdrawing his hand with a lazy smile.

Continuing from before, he said, "I just wanted to feed you some apple."

Song Qingyou felt that if she died young one day, it would most likely be from being tormented by Fu Wenzhou's mercurial moods.

"I'll go to the charity auction," Fu Wenzhou smiled. "You know I always listen to you."

Song Qingyou: ...

She truly wanted to ask him right then, if he was so obedient, why wouldn't he leave?

But she let it go. He was like a mad dog, unpredictable and needing to be handled gently, or he'd throw a tantrum.

She had no desire for her mood to be a roller coaster every day. She asked tactfully, "When are you planning to leave?"

Fu Wenzhou glanced at her. His features were striking, deep and refined, yet his brows carried a hint of fierceness, his eyes dark and intense. When he looked at her, there was a tenderness in his gaze, his voice lingering and gentle. "Once you've finished applying my medicine, I'll go."

Song Qingyou had studied traditional medicine, achieving considerable mastery. When she announced her withdrawal, all her teachers lamented her departure, but she left without hesitation—she had more important things to do than pursue her passion.

When she learned Fu Wenzhou was fighting underground matches in Country M, she tracked down rare herbs and made medicine herself, with excellent healing and scar-reducing effects.

She almost refused, but then remembered the medicine was made for him, and she wanted to send him off as quickly as possible. So she agreed, "I'll apply your medicine—but you mustn't move."