Chapter 21: It's Because You Misbehaved

Fu Wenzhou’s gaze never left her for a moment, and when she suddenly spoke, he thought he must have misheard her. “What did you say?”

“Fierce,” Song Qingyou replied, brushing away the hand he’d locked around her waist. His fingers were long and elegant, truly beautiful, but unfortunately, they always seemed intent on overpowering her.

Fu Wenzhou swiftly caught her retreating hand in his palm and gave her a sharp tug; caught off guard, Song Qingyou stumbled, and her lips landed against his Adam’s apple.

His throat moved in response, and Song Qingyou’s lips tingled. She tried to pull back, but he wouldn’t let her.

This posture was too intimate, as if she were…

She hastily turned her cheek to the side, but they were so close that her lips barely grazed from his Adam’s apple down to his collarbone, as though deliberately teasing him.

Her earlobes flushed pink, and, both angry and embarrassed, she struggled harder. “Fu Wenzhou!”

He lifted his eyelids, his voice hoarse, “Don’t move.”

Song Qingyou froze, then seemed to realize something. The bloodless pallor of her face was suddenly tinged with color.

Her eyes were wide with disbelief.

Was this man an animal?

Fu Wenzhou’s breath pressed heavily against her, his voice low, “You’re the one misbehaving.”

Song Qingyou was taken aback. He’d just lost his temper at her, yet now he was reacting this way, and somehow she was the one at fault.

All she’d done was shift a few times on his lap!

When she was angry, her eyes would grow a little rounder, making her look even more lively.

Fu Wenzhou was very fond of her eyes—he’d been captivated by them since youth, and over the years his affection only deepened. His feelings for her had always been calculated and deliberate.

“Ahem!” Gu Bai cleared his throat, thinking he ought to be under the car, not inside it. “So, uh, where exactly are we headed?”

“Yalin Garden.”

“Wutong Apartments.”

They spoke at the same time. Gu Bai exclaimed, “For heaven’s sake, where are we going?”

Fu Wenzhou cast Song Qingyou a dark glance, his tongue pressing against his molars. “Wutong Apartments.”

Gu Bai found it curious. He’d known Fu Wenzhou for twenty years and had never seen him compromise with anyone. Not even when the old man beat him into a hospital bed for weeks over joining the army—he’d held out stubbornly. Yet now, he’d changed his mind so easily.

Tsk, this young Miss Song is something else.

All the way to Wutong Apartments, Fu Wenzhou never once let go of Song Qingyou’s hand.

With Gu Bai still present, Song Qingyou didn’t want to quarrel in front of an outsider. She forced herself to speak patiently: “I want to get out.”

But Fu Wenzhou asked, “Why were you by the river tonight?”

Song Qingyou hadn’t expected the conversation to circle back like this. She frowned slightly. “I don’t have any obligation to report to you, do I?”

Fu Wenzhou’s palm slid upward, tracing from her lower back to her delicate earlobe, his fingertips kneading gently. “Qingyou, don’t always try to provoke me.”

His voice was low, the end of his words softly rising, caressing her like a whisper at her ear, yet she could detect a subtle thread of anger.

He was displeased.

Was he angry that she’d been alone by the river tonight, or was it her refusal to yield?

She raised her hand, capturing his restless fingers, her voice cool: “You’re the one who’s been following me these past weeks, aren’t you?”

Fu Wenzhou’s throat tightened as he looked at her, his gaze dark.

“You installed a tracker on my car. Everywhere I go, whatever I do, someone reports to you, don’t they? Tonight, Uncle Chang went back to his hometown and the tracker failed, so you keep interrogating me again and again. Fu Wenzhou, I have my own life, my own things to do. I’m not your possession. Stop trying to control me.”

Before, she could turn a blind eye and pretend not to know, but tonight his tone had been unbearable.

Unbearable enough that she might as well tear through the last pretense.

She didn’t know what had come over her—just hearing his unyielding questioning felt like a stone blocking her chest, suffocating her.

And she knew Fu Wenzhou too well; it was because she knew him that she understood his obsession, his possessiveness, the darkness lurking inside him.

This man was dangerous, mysterious, and utterly seductive—but laced with poison.

One wrong step, and there was no turning back.

She had no interest in provoking a mad dog for now.

Fu Wenzhou’s gaze grew colder, his expression unreadable.

Gu Bai sat as if on pins and needles, wondering how he’d ended up in the middle of this battlefield.

Seconds ticked by, so long that Song Qingyou thought he wouldn’t speak again and prepared to break free and leave.

But the man spoke in a hoarse voice: “If you don’t like it, I won’t do it anymore.”

Song Qingyou’s body stiffened.

Fu Wenzhou’s long fingers stroked the white jade bracelet on her wrist, his tone steady and slow: “Tomorrow, I’ll have the tracker removed. I won’t have anyone follow you anymore.”

So agreeable?

Song Qingyou’s eyes were hesitant, as if weighing the truth of his words.

Fu Wenzhou let her go, the corners of his mouth lifting in a semblance of gentlemanly grace. “It’s late. I won’t see you upstairs.”

She climbed off him, and even as she went upstairs, reality felt blurry and unreal.

When had the mad dog become so docile?

It occurred to her just how much space Fu Wenzhou occupied in her thoughts. She shook her head, forcing herself to stop thinking about him.

She bent to pick up Zhouzhou and made herself a cup of herbal medicine.

She didn’t much like medicine—it was too bitter.

Lately, her health had gotten worse; the bouts of coughing had become more frequent. Her plans were not yet fulfilled—she couldn’t afford to collapse.

She took a deep breath, downed the medicine in one gulp, and the bitterness spread through her mouth. She found herself missing Fu Wenzhou’s candies.

She didn’t know where he’d bought them—they were so sweet, sweet enough to chase away the taste of even the most bitter medicine.

Perhaps because of the medicine, she didn’t suffer her usual insomnia that night.

For the first time, she had a dream unlike any before.

In it, she saw Fu Wenzhou as a boy, standing under a ginkgo tree, wearing a white shirt and holding her favorite roses. He was radiant, smiling at her with all the exuberance of youth.

“Qingyou, be my girlfriend. No refusing!”

Song Qingyou almost laughed—how was he so domineering, even in her dreams?

The boy approached, sunlight blazing behind him. Leaves drifted from his handsome brow as he bent toward her, as if to kiss her.

At the very moment their lips would meet, the doorbell rang.

Song Qingyou woke with a start.

She sat up in bed, breathing lightly, the tips of her ears and her cheeks flushed red.

The doorbell was still ringing. She glanced at the clock—it was already ten.

Had she really slept so long?

She threw on a soft pink cashmere cardigan and went to the door. “Who—”

“Qingyou, surprise!”

Her words caught in her throat.