Chapter Four: "Elder Sister"

Song Qingyou woke with a start, as if jolted from a nightmare, and hurriedly switched on the bedside lamp. Turning her head, she caught sight of that devastatingly handsome face and nearly choked with fury.

She broke into a fit of coughing, her face flushed red, and managed to call out his name through gritted teeth: "Fu Wenzhou!"

Fu Wenzhou said nothing, simply rolled off the bed, and poured her a cup of hot water. "With pear syrup," he said, "good for your throat."

Song Qingyou stared at him for a few seconds, but in the end, she took the cup. After drinking, her throat felt much better.

Wenzhou watched her finish and, as if it was the most natural thing, took the empty cup to the kitchen, washed it, and returned.

Song Qingyou frowned slightly. "How did you know I was here?"

Fu Wenzhou pulled up a chair and sat in front of her. "The Fu family couldn't find you, so I came here."

Song Qingyou took a deep breath. "I changed the password."

"You only ever use combinations of Zhouzhou's birthday. Even if you changed it a hundred times, I'd still figure it out." Fu Wenzhou braced his arms on either side of her, leaning in so close the veins on his arms stood out, a roguish smile playing at his lips. "No matter how many times you change it, you'll never lose me."

"Get away from me," Song Qingyou said, pressing her hand against his chest, which radiated a suffocating sense of strength. The corners of her eyes were tinged red from coughing, making her seem all the more pitiful.

Fu Wenzhou gazed into her eyes, his pupils deep and dark, as if he could draw her in with the intensity of his stare.

"Qingyou..."

She frowned, forced to invoke the only boundary she had left, her status, a warning as much as a reminder. "Fu Wenzhou, I am your aunt."

A storm flickered in his eyes, but soon faded into calm. He curled his lips slightly, replying, "So what? The one holding you is me. The one kissing you is me. And the one who wants to..."

"Shut up!" Song Qingyou couldn't bear another word of his nonsense. Both ashamed and angry, she snapped, "If you didn't keep sneaking into my room in the middle of the night to hold me and— If not for your endless pestering, do you think I—"

"You think what?" Fu Wenzhou leaned in, their breath mingling. "Qingyou, stop hiding behind titles. Didn't you once say yourself? I'm just a mad dog—push me too far, and there's nothing I won't do."

Song Qingyou's head throbbed. She had always been a reserved, even-tempered person, rarely swayed by emotion. Yet only Fu Wenzhou could so easily tug at her feelings, and she was helpless against this mad dog.

She had already divorced Fu Tingdeep, determined to distance herself from the Fu family—and especially from Fu Wenzhou.

Three years ago, when she learned of the arranged marriage between the Song and Fu families, Fu Wenzhou had rushed home from abroad overnight, standing in the rain before her, begging her not to marry Fu Tingdeep, begging her to wait for him.

Back then, Song Qingyou had found it baffling—she had no recollection of ever meeting this man. Politely, she had asked Uncle Chang to pull him up from the rain, handed him an umbrella, and turned away.

It was much later that Song Qingyou learned the truth: years ago, Fu Wenzhou had lived for a time with the Song family. As a child, he had been withdrawn and silent, always an outsider. At a banquet, when he was bullied, it was Song Qingyou who had come to his rescue. Ever since, Fu Wenzhou had followed her everywhere, learned her every weakness, tried every way to amuse and care for her, desperate to keep her from falling ill.

The day Fu Wenzhou left, he cried bitterly, refusing to go unless Song Qingyou promised to wait for him to grow up and marry her someday.

Song Qingyou had agreed.

Yet only Fu Wenzhou had ever taken that childish promise to heart.

She sighed, unable to understand how that well-behaved, adorable little puppy had grown into a wolf so eager to devour her whole.

She placed a hand on his arm, wanting to push him away, to speak plainly, but before she could muster the strength, he moved, burying his head into the crook of her shoulder, muffling a word: "Sister."

Her fingers tingled involuntarily.

That had always been his way of winning her over as a child.

For a brief moment, Song Qingyou was dazed. Fu Wenzhou seized the chance to nip at her delicate neck, retreating to a safe distance before she could push him away.

"Are you a dog?" Song Qingyou covered her neck, her face calm—clearly, she'd grown used to such sneak attacks over the past three years.

A fleeting hint of pleasure surfaced in Fu Wenzhou's eyes, faint and elusive.

Song Qingyou frowned at him, unable to understand why scolding him only seemed to make him happier.

She pursed her lips. "Go back the way you came."

Having gotten what he wanted, Fu Wenzhou allowed himself to be shooed out of the room, thoroughly satisfied.

The next morning, Song Qingyou enjoyed a rare good night's sleep. After washing up, she came out intending to feed the cat, only to discover that Zhouzhou was gone. Its owner had left a note behind, the handwriting as arrogant and unruly as the man himself:

I've taken Zhouzhou home. If you want to see it, come to my place.

Song Qingyou: ...

Zhouzhou had originally been rescued by Fu Wenzhou, who, after a while, had sent the cat to her. Whenever the mood struck him, he'd bring it home for a spell.

After so much time together, feelings had formed. When Song Qingyou missed Zhouzhou, she'd ask Uncle Chang to take her to Fu Wenzhou's house, intending just to sneak a glance and leave. But every time, she'd find Fu Wenzhou waiting at the door, cat in arms and a smile on his face.

The cat belonged to him, after all. She had no grounds to ask for it back, so she could only stew in silence.

Song Qingyou crumpled the note, giving its owner a four-word review: "Scheming and cunning."

She glanced at the breakfast spread on the table—fish congee and a bowl of stewed snow pear.

Song Qingyou paused, her slender fingers unlocking her phone. She opened Fu Wenzhou's WeChat profile. His avatar was a blurry photo of a girl in a white dress standing under a tree, sheltering from the rain—unrecognizable to anyone else.

Only Song Qingyou knew: the figure in the photo was her, at eighteen.

She had no idea when Fu Wenzhou had taken the picture. She'd told him many times to change it, but he never did. Eventually, she gave up trying.

She transferred him money for the breakfast, adding a note: "For breakfast. Don't contact me again," and quickly exited the chat.

Elsewhere, Fu Wenzhou lounged on the sofa, idly stroking Zhouzhou's head, in high spirits. But when he saw Song Qingyou's WeChat message, his lips curled. The moment he saw the transfer, however, his face turned thunderous.

With a loud crash, his phone shattered on the floor.

Gu Bai walked in just in time to witness the wild dog's tantrum. Curiously, he remarked, "What, fighting with your little aunt again?"

Zhouzhou had already fled. Fu Wenzhou, however, remained in his cat-stroking pose, silent and cold-faced.

Gu Bai sat across from him. As Fu Wenzhou's childhood friend, he knew all about the situation with Song Qingyou. He'd tried to talk him out of it—after all, of all the women in the world, why fall for a married woman, and your aunt at that?

But Fu Wenzhou seemed bewitched, endlessly pestering Song Qingyou, using every excuse to see her, sometimes at great personal cost.

Eventually, Gu Bai gave up trying. Let him be, he thought. Besides, that sickly beauty from the Song family hardly seemed likely to spare him much attention.

Fu Wenzhou radiated a menacing aura, teetering on the edge of fury. Gu Bai, remembering why he'd come today, nudged him. "Come on, don't brood. It's just a woman. It's Yan Shao's birthday tonight—he's throwing a big party, women everywhere. Take your pick, don't tie yourself to one tree."

Fu Wenzhou's eyes snapped open, dark and fierce. "I'm only interested in Song Qingyou!"

Gu Bai: ...

Hopeless.

He tried another tactic. "I heard Song Qingyou will be there too."

Fu Wenzhou hesitated, then frowned. "She doesn't like crowds. Why would she go to Yan Shaoqin's birthday party? When did she get to know Yan Shaoqin?"

Gu Bai thought there was no saving him. "She doesn't know Yan Shaoqin, but his sister is her only friend—didn't you know?"

"I knew. Forgot," Fu Wenzhou replied, expressionless.

Gu Bai was speechless.