Chapter 61: The Obedient Puppy

Hearing the door open, Fu Wenzhou looked up, his eyes full of exhaustion, his ears red from the cold. Those eyes were dull and lifeless, fixed unwaveringly on the person before him. The blood on his knuckles had dried, but the sight was still shocking.

Song Qingyou stared in disbelief. “Did you… did you stand here all night?”

A layer of frost seemed to have formed on Fu Wenzhou’s coat, his hair stiff with cold as well. His face was deathly pale, devoid of any warmth.

He moved his lips, his voice hoarse beyond recognition. “You…”

He stopped after just one syllable, remembering what she had said at the hospital—not to call her by that nickname.

She forbade him, so he would not call her that.

Song Qingyou’s heart ached unbearably. She reached out and pulled him inside. Every winter, the heating in her room never stopped.

The difference between inside and out was like night and day; gradually, warmth seeped back into Fu Wenzhou’s frozen body.

Song Qingyou, both distressed and angry, poured him a cup of hot water. “Are you an idiot? Standing in the hallway all night in the middle of winter—your home is just across the way. Why didn’t you go back?”

Fu Wenzhou gripped the cup. His fingers were so numb he could barely feel them, holding on by sheer will.

“I sold the apartment.”

“…”

He explained, “I wanted to move in with you, but was afraid you’d refuse, so I sold my place.”

Song Qingyou was truly exasperated. “Fu Wenzhou, is there something wrong with your head?”

He listened quietly to her scolding, never retorting, his eyes always fixed on her.

He was like a dog locked out in the cold for misbehaving, waiting outside all night, frozen stiff, unwilling to leave, bearing it without complaint, just hoping his master would forgive him come morning.

Song Qingyou glanced down at his injured hand, a sharp pain stabbing her heart.

Fu Wenzhou swallowed, his voice raw. “Don’t be angry anymore.”

Song Qingyou pressed a hand to her chest—something inside seemed to be breaking through, sending out roots and shoots.

She lifted her eyes. “Come here.”

Fu Wenzhou’s eyes were rimmed with red. He desperately wanted to hold her, but he was so cold, he didn’t dare.

His body ran hot by nature, and with the heating on high, it was only after the chill left him that he finally took off his frosted coat. Slowly, he walked over and wrapped his arms around her waist, nuzzling her warm, fair neck with his nose. “If you don’t like it, I won’t do it. Just don’t be angry with me, please?”

His eyes were filled with anxiety and confusion, and his tone was tentative and cautious, as though he feared more than anything she might refuse.

Song Qingyou raised a hand to stroke his jaw, sighing as if yielding. “Neither Song Yuan nor anyone else is worth committing a crime for. Worse than death is a life without hope.”

She gently stroked his back. “Understand?”

“Mm.” Fu Wenzhou held her even tighter, wishing he could merge her into his very bones.

Song Qingyou found it hard to breathe, suppressing a cough with effort. Only after soothing him did she pull away to take her medicine.

Fu Wenzhou trailed behind her like a large, loyal dog, never leaving her side.

“Stay here and don’t move,” Song Qingyou said softly.

Fu Wenzhou stopped immediately, obediently standing still until she came out with the medicine box, at which point he went to meet her.

Song Qingyou had him sit on the sofa and took her place beside him.

Fu Wenzhou never took his eyes off her for a second. Standing outside all night in the cold was his punishment for making her angry. Now that he had finally coaxed her back, he dared not let her go again.

Song Qingyou took out the iodine. “Give me your hand.”

Fu Wenzhou immediately extended his hand.

She took his palm and, upon seeing the wound clearly, couldn’t help but frown. He was brutal enough to others, but how could he be so ruthless to himself? Such an injury—he must have used tremendous force.

Song Qingyou carefully disinfected the wound, applied ointment, and wrapped it with gauze.

Her serious, attentive expression as she dressed his hand made Fu Wenzhou feel as though his heart had been dipped in honey. He couldn’t suppress the upward curve of his lips and leaned down to plant a kiss on her cheek.

Song Qingyou stared at him in surprise. “What are you doing?”

“Kissing you.” Fu Wenzhou’s heart itched for more; he wanted to hold her, kiss her, and, if possible, be even closer. “Qingyou, I like you so much.”

Her cheeks grew hot, and she asked, half in disbelief, “That much?”

Fu Wenzhou nodded. “Yes, that much.”

Song Qingyou’s earlobes burned. She leaned in and kissed his lips—her reward for his obedience this time.

Fu Wenzhou looked at her, overwhelmed by this unexpected favor, his eyes bright and wet. “Qingyou…”

Assuming he still wasn’t satisfied, she blushed and pecked him again, quick as a flash.

In twenty-four years of life, she had never done anything like this. Normally so reserved, she was still a little embarrassed.

Fu Wenzhou’s eyes were red with restraint, his gaze hopelessly attached to her.

Song Qingyou, pink-faced, packed up the medicine box. “I need to go to the hospital.”

The word “hospital” immediately made Fu Wenzhou tense. “What’s wrong? Are you feeling unwell?”

Song Qingyou thought to herself that she felt unwell every day, but she didn’t say so. Instead, she replied simply, “It’s time for my bi-annual checkup today.”

“I’ll go with you.” Fu Wenzhou’s tone brooked no refusal.

“You didn’t sleep all night. Don’t you want to rest?” Song Qingyou frowned.

“I don’t need to. I’ll go with you,” he replied without hesitation.

She considered, then said, “Then let’s take your car. I asked Uncle Chang to run an errand for me.”

Fu Wenzhou kissed her again before getting up to fetch his car keys.

He carefully guided her downstairs. A neighborly grandmother happened to see them and smiled, “Oh, young man, did you finally coax your wife back?”

Fu Wenzhou beamed with pride. “Yes, I did.”

The old lady looked at Song Qingyou, still smiling. “Such a pretty girl. No wonder you’re so taken with her.”

“Of course,” Fu Wenzhou replied, a touch smug.

Song Qingyou was left bewildered. After the neighbor left, she asked him, “Wife?”

Fu Wenzhou rubbed his nose and cleared his throat. “I ran into her last night. She asked me why I was standing outside in the cold. I told her I’d made my wife angry and got kicked out.”

Song Qingyou: …

Who was his wife! How could he be so shameless?

Her face reddened again as she glared at him.

Fu Wenzhou’s smile was indulgent, his gaze impossibly gentle, his voice low and certain. “Qingyou, sooner or later, you’ll marry me.”

Even if she didn’t like him now, it didn’t matter. Didn’t they say that love grows with time? In time, feelings would blossom.

As long as he persisted, Song Qingyou’s name would one day be written in his household registry.

Fu Wenzhou took care of her even more attentively than Uncle Chang ever had. For a trip that took only half an hour, not only did he have hot water ready, he even washed fruit and played her favorite music.

The car rolled smoothly to the hospital, and since she had made an appointment in advance, Song Qingyou went straight in for a full check-up.

The results, as in previous years, were unchanged. Her heart condition was congenital. No matter how many expensive herbs she took, there was no real improvement—at best, her complexion looked better, but it was only a superficial fix, not a cure.