Chapter 23: Don’t Be Angry

“Come over and eat.” Fu Wenzhou called out again, opening the food container and laying out the porridge and pastries one by one. Then he bent down and scooped up the kitten, who instantly became a little cuddler, nuzzling his chin with its head in a display of affection.

He was so at ease, so casual—it was as if he hadn’t just let himself into someone else’s home early in the morning, but rather as if he’d returned to his own, moving with unhurried familiarity.

For a moment, Song Qingyou couldn’t help but feel a little confused.

Whose home was this, hers or Fu Wenzhou’s?

Lost in thought, she voiced her question out loud.

Hearing this, Fu Wenzhou raised an eyebrow, a wicked smile playing at his lips. “It could be my home too.”

Song Qingyou replied, “...Get out.”

Fu Wenzhou’s expression darkened, but faced with the little spirit he cherished, he could do nothing.

“Come eat, or should I feed you myself?”

His tone was dangerous, his gaze even more so. Song Qingyou weighed her options for two seconds before sitting down.

The delicate pastries on the table were all of her favorite flavors, but because of her health, she didn’t eat much. After a few bites, she was full.

Fu Wenzhou glanced at her, then at the kitten, who was also eating. The usual menace in his eyes softened into a faint smile. “How is it that even the cat eats more than you? You’re too easy to look after.”

With that, he pulled the bowl of porridge she had left unfinished toward himself and finished it in a few quick spoonfuls.

Song Qingyou was about to suggest transferring him the money for breakfast, but seeing this, the words caught in her throat.

She pursed her lips. “That’s what I was eating.”

Fu Wenzhou replied, popping a crystal dumpling into his mouth, “I don’t mind.”

Song Qingyou rubbed her forehead. “Well, I do.”

He paused, took a sip of porridge, and suddenly reached out with a large hand, gripping the back of her neck and pulling her toward him.

Before she could react, his warm, moist lips pressed against hers.

Song Qingyou, completely unprepared, felt his lips part hers, and the fragrant, warm porridge passed from his mouth to hers.

Her eyes flew open in shock, unable to believe he could be so brazen and reckless!

On reflex, she reached out to push him away. But Fu Wenzhou’s hand was like an iron clamp, holding her fast by the back of the neck. His lips pressed tightly against hers, breath hot and charged with a heady intimacy.

By the time he finished, Song Qingyou’s eyes were misted with tears, like freshly picked grapes dusted with morning dew. She glared at him, her anger and frustration plain: “Fu Wenzhou!”

Fu Wenzhou stared straight at her flushed face, his Adam’s apple bobbing, distractedly humming in reply.

His gaze was glued to her lips, lush and red, unable to look away.

The urge to hide her away and claim her as his own grew ever stronger.

“Still mind sharing with me?” His thin lips curled, voice hoarse and thick with something wild.

Song Qingyou snapped, “I absolutely mind! If you want to eat, go elsewhere. Don’t—”

Before she could finish, Fu Wenzhou pressed in again.

This time it was no fleeting touch, but an overwhelming, almost predatory kiss that seemed intent on devouring her whole.

When his hand slipped beneath the hem of her loungewear, Song Qingyou shivered inexplicably, a tiny whimper escaping her lips.

The man opened his eyes, a storm of emotion swirling in their depths.

With one arm, he easily scooped her onto his lap. Song Qingyou pressed against his chest, her eyes brimming with panic and confusion. “Fu Wenzhou! Are you insane?!”

“Qingyou...” His breath grew heavier, hot against her ear, intoxicating as poison, threatening to drown her.

Fu Wenzhou seemed to have lost all reason, and it frightened her.

“Fu Wenzhou, cough, cough—” Alarmed by his aggressive aura, Song Qingyou panicked. She lost her breath in her agitation and burst into a fit of coughing.

Pulled back from the brink of losing control, Fu Wenzhou quickly patted her back, helping her catch her breath. “Qingyou, don’t be angry. I won’t touch you, alright?”

Song Qingyou covered her mouth, her body trembling with coughs. Hearing her wrenching coughs, Fu Wenzhou was filled with regret, apologizing over and over.

But though his mouth offered apologies, his hands had no intention of letting her go—especially as...

When Song Qingyou finally caught her breath, the two of them were so close their skin was practically touching, close enough to hear each other’s heartbeats. She was acutely aware of certain changes in the man.

Her beautiful face flushed, the red spreading from behind her ears down her neck, even the bare curve of her shoulder tinged with pink.

Fu Wenzhou’s gaze darkened as he watched the glow on her fair skin.

He still wore an innocent expression, gently soothing her breath.

But the hand around her slender waist drew her even tighter into his embrace.

Embarrassed and angry, Song Qingyou raised her hand and slapped him. “Let me go!”

She hadn’t expected Fu Wenzhou to make no effort to dodge. Her slap landed squarely on his cheek, the sharp sound startling even her.

The next instant, Fu Wenzhou caught her wrist!

His gaze was terrifying, as if he might swallow her whole.

Song Qingyou had always heard how dangerous Fu Wenzhou was, and in front of others, he was a menace. But here, he was like a mad dog throwing a tantrum—such a side of him was rare.

Instinctively, she squeezed her eyes shut, shrinking back.

But the expected slap never came. Instead, something warm and damp brushed her palm.

She opened her eyes in confusion. Fu Wenzhou was bowing his head, planting gentle kisses on her palm and fingers.

It was like an electric current, shooting from her fingertips to her palm, rippling through her whole body, making her shiver.

Fu Wenzhou looked up, his deep, elegant eyes locking on her. There was nothing concealed about the intensity of his feelings—like a tidal wave, fierce and consuming.

In the dark depths of his eyes, she saw her own bewildered reflection. Her heart gave a tremor, as though something soft had brushed against it, making her fingertips curl involuntarily.

He asked, “Does your hand hurt?”

Song Qingyou’s lips moved soundlessly, but Fu Wenzhou said gently, “Be good. I was wrong. Don’t be angry.”

She took a shaky breath, clenching her fist, putting a little space between them. “...Let me go first.”

Turning her face away, she refused to look at him, her rejection clear.

Fury simmered in Fu Wenzhou’s chest, mingled with frustration and, above all, heartache.

At last, with a heavy gaze, he let her go.