Chapter Thirty-One

“So it seems you’re a master of time management, huh? Not offending either woman, staying principled by never thinking of the other when with one,” Shen Huaiqing remarked mercilessly.

Fu Chen appeared unwilling to pursue the topic further. He lifted Shen Huaiqing from the bed, arranged the pillows so she could rest comfortably against the headboard, and brought honey water to her lips, his voice gentle. “Drink up. The temperature is just right.”

Shen Huaiqing knew Fu Chen was trying to change the subject, but she didn’t mind. Since yesterday, she’d already understood her place in his heart—a role to be used from head to toe.

Obediently, she took the water, sipping it slowly. She asked, her voice muffled, “How did you find me yesterday?”

Fu Chen watched her drink, expressionless. “Is it so difficult for me to find someone in South City?”

“Well, that’s true. But I think I heard someone talking to me yesterday. Was it you?” The honey water soothed her stomach, and the furrow in her brows relaxed.

“Who else would it be?” His jaw lifted slightly, his tone cold.

Shen Huaiqing was puzzled and pressed further: “But I remember saying quite a lot. What do you and I have to talk about?”

Fu Chen’s lips curved. His voice deepened. “Naturally, I was declaring my love for you.”

Shen Huaiqing knew he was just making light of it. She couldn’t hope to get anything real from him. She blinked, testing: “I drank too much yesterday… I didn’t say anything I shouldn’t have, did I?”

Fu Chen turned back coldly, his gaze frosty. “What secrets do you have? So afraid I’ll find out?”

His mood shifted so quickly that Shen Huaiqing had no choice but to deflect, “I’m afraid I might blurt out the name of someone I like, and you’d get jealous and make things difficult for him.”

No sooner had she spoken than Fu Chen’s expression turned strangely eerie. He murmured, “It’s possible you already said it. That person might already…”

The temperature in the room seemed to drop sharply. Seeing his expression and hearing his words, Shen Huaiqing felt her hairs stand on end, involuntarily shivering.

“What’s wrong with you? Telling ghost stories in broad daylight?” She rubbed her arms quickly, casting Fu Chen a look of disgust.

“You still don’t believe me?” Fu Chen’s voice was unsettling, tinged with hoarseness and age.

Suddenly, the shrill ring of the phone startled Shen Huaiqing. When she looked up, Fu Chen had returned to his usual self.

He answered the call right in front of her, which puzzled her. Usually, he’d avoid her when taking calls—what was different today?

Whatever was said on the other end, Fu Chen replied coldly, “You can’t even handle something so simple? Then you may as well join him inside!”

After more muffled voices, Fu Chen glanced deeply at Shen Huaiqing and said in a low voice, “Don’t let me see him again.” Then he hung up.

A sense of foreboding rose within Shen Huaiqing. Fu Chen never acted without purpose; he wouldn’t answer such a call before her unless he was certain that by the time she learned the truth, it would be too late.

Trying to sound casual, Shen Huaiqing said, “Don’t take calls like that in front of me anymore. I’m afraid it’ll shorten my life.”

“What are you afraid of? Being with me is destined to shorten your life.” His eyes gazed deeply at her, a tangled affection swirling within, and a faint, sickly gleam flickering.

Things were becoming increasingly strange. Shen Huaiqing wanted to break away. “I’m hungry. Aunt Feng is still on holiday today—what are we eating?”

“Just lie down if you’re not feeling well. I’ll cook.” Fu Chen rolled up his sleeves, revealing his lean arms.

“You can cook? Are you kidding? Planning to poison me?” Her face radiated pure disbelief.

“You’ll eat it even if it’s poisoned. You’re the one who sent all the servants away.” Fu Chen still hadn’t figured out why she did that.

Shen Huaiqing pushed him impatiently, “Go on, I’ll come with you to the kitchen.” She muttered under her breath, “You talk way too much.”

Fu Chen smiled indulgently as they entered the kitchen together, one tall and one short.

Shen Huaiqing opened the fridge, but it was spotless—not a single vegetable in sight.

Her hunger grew worse. She tilted her head and complained, “Why didn’t Aunt Feng buy groceries? I’ll dock her pay when she’s back!”

Fu Chen tapped her head lightly. “Are you a fool? We only use the freshest ingredients here. Aunt Feng never cooks with leftovers.”

“So what now?” Shen Huaiqing stared blankly at the empty fridge.

Like a magician, Fu Chen produced a few eggs from somewhere. “We have eggs and noodles. Since you drank last night, I’ll make you egg noodle soup. Go sit at the table—you’ll just get in my way here.”

He half-pulled, half-dragged her out of the kitchen, settling her into a chair before returning to cook.

Shen Huaiqing rubbed her empty stomach, her face full of worry. She regretted sending the servants away. She’d wanted fewer mouths and less gossip, making it easier for herself, but now she understood what it meant to hoist a stone only to drop it on her own foot.

She shook her head. Now wasn’t the time to let her brain work—thinking would only make her hungrier. She had to empty her mind; she rested her chin on the table, her gaze unfocused.

Soon, a delicious aroma wafted to her nose, snapping her back to attention.

Fu Chen placed a bowl before her. “Eat. It’s hot, so take it slow.”

The broth was a pale yellow, the noodles nestled neatly, golden egg floating on the surface, sprinkled with fresh green scallions.

Shen Huaiqing couldn’t wait. She grabbed a chopstick of noodles, blew on them, and when they’d cooled, quickly slurped them up.

“Slow down,” Fu Chen said gently, wiping the soup from the corner of her mouth.

After indulging herself, she slowed down to eat the egg. “Why aren’t you eating? Is it really poisoned?”

“There’s only this much noodles. Not enough for two. I’m not hungry.” Fu Chen’s dark eyes radiated warmth.

“But… how do you, a young master, know how to cook? Isn’t it supposed to be that your fingers never touch cold water?” Shen Huaiqing put down her chopsticks, scrutinizing him.

Fu Chen’s eyes dimmed. He spoke softly, “The Fu family’s education was strict. When I was young, I didn’t live a life of clothes handed to me and meals served.”

Shen Huaiqing didn’t really understand how wealthy families raised their children. Fu Henian was clearly not a gentle soul; Fu Chen must have taken many beatings as a child.

Her mind conjured images of Fu Chen being struck by his father, and she couldn’t help but laugh aloud.