Chapter Fifty-Seven: His Kindness

Shen Huaijing was just about to reach out and open the window when she saw herself tightly clutching Fu Chen's hand. She hurriedly withdrew, mortified, wishing she could disappear on the spot. How could she have instinctively held his hand? While she was steeped in regret, Fu Chen wrapped his arms around her from behind, gently took her hand, and pushed open the window before them. Shen Huaijing turned her head, startled, to look at Fu Chen. Their gazes met in the air, as if an electric current surged between them.

Fu Chen lowered his head to look at her, his fathomless eyes shimmering with a mysterious light, like a galaxy swirling with enchantment. Shen Huaijing felt her heart racing uncontrollably as Fu Chen’s face drew closer; their noses were almost touching. Normally quick-tongued and sharp-witted, Shen Huaijing found herself unable to utter a single word, simply gazing quietly at the man before her. The starlight seemed to pour into her bright eyes, clear as a spring.

Fu Chen stared into Shen Huaijing’s eyes, feeling a sudden dryness in his throat. He slowly lowered his head and kissed her, gentle yet possessive, savoring the lingering sweetness of her lips. His heart began to beat faster, for he sensed that Shen Huaijing was cautiously, secretly responding to him, tentatively chasing and exploring his kiss with hers.

At such close distance, both of their hearts were thrown into chaos.

In the past, their kisses had mostly been acts—Shen Huaijing playing along for appearances, or Fu Chen forcing his affection upon her, leaving her no choice. But today’s kiss was different; Shen Huaijing responded sincerely, guided by feeling rather than obligation. She couldn’t understand what had come over her.

All she knew was that, in that moment, she didn't want to refuse.

When the lingering, tender kiss ended, Shen Huaijing realized her hand was tightly grasping the hem of Fu Chen’s shirt. She lowered her head, her face so flushed it could bleed.

“Are you hungry?” Fu Chen gently lifted her chin, gazing at her tenderly.

Shen Huaijing turned her face aside, murmuring softly, “I’ve been hungry for a while.”

Fu Chen chuckled, took her hand, and led her out. “Why didn’t you say so earlier?”

This time, Shen Huaijing didn’t shake off his hand. She obediently followed Fu Chen, staring at his broad shoulders, and said in a daze, “Fu Chen, could you carry me?”

Without a word, Fu Chen stooped down, his posture upright and strong.

“Get on.”

Shen Huaijing thought Fu Chen would refuse, especially since Uncle Liu was downstairs. Wouldn’t he feel embarrassed? She stood there, unmoving.

“I was just speaking offhand.”

“Come on,” Fu Chen turned to glance at her, urging her.

Shen Huaijing bit her trembling lip, fighting back tears that nonetheless spilled uncontrollably. She slowly climbed onto Fu Chen’s back, wrapping her arms around his neck.

Once she was settled, Fu Chen stood up with ease. Did this woman ever eat? He could barely feel her weight.

As they descended the stairs, they ran into Uncle Liu.

Uncle Liu’s wife looked at the pair enviously, nudging her husband and complaining, “Look at President Fu! Then look at you! Comparing people really makes you angry!”

Uncle Liu touched his head awkwardly and muttered, “I carried you when I was young, didn’t I? Can you see me carrying you now?”

“You old rascal!” The two bickered behind the counter.

Shen Huaijing lowered her gaze to Fu Chen’s head, and a thought slowly surfaced in her mind—could they be like Uncle Liu and his wife? Quietly supporting each other through simple days.

She laughed at herself.

How could that be? When all the lies were exposed and their truths revealed, that would be the moment they parted.

Yet these past two days, she wanted to empty her mind, think of nothing, simply enjoy this trip as husband and wife, to be an ordinary wife, a regular person for once.

Along the way, they drew many envious glances; several young women blushed and hurried past.

Fu Chen brought Shen Huaijing to a small eatery by the street, gently set her onto a chair, and stood up. “What would you like to eat?”

Shen Huaijing studied the yellowed menu on the wall and replied with a smile, “A bowl of three-flavor rice noodles and a basket of steamed buns.”

Fu Chen nodded and went to the order window.

“Two bowls of three-flavor rice noodles—” he began but was interrupted by Shen Huaijing, who called out loudly, “Fu Chen, don’t order the same as me, I want to try something different.”

Fu Chen gave her a pampering smile and turned to the cashier, “One bowl of three-flavor rice noodles, one bowl of assorted rice vermicelli, and one basket of soup-filled buns.”

Such small shops rarely had air conditioning, only a dusty fan creaking back and forth. Sweat trickled down Fu Chen’s temples.

Before he could wipe it away, Shen Huaijing beat him to it, gently dabbing his face with a tissue.

“Am I too heavy?” Shen Huaijing joked.

Fu Chen flicked her forehead, his smile deep. “You’re too light. Eat more from now on. Haven’t you always loved Aunt Feng’s cooking?”

Shen Huaijing grumbled at Fu Chen, “With so much going on every day, how could I have the mood to eat?”

“What could possibly bother you?” Fu Chen retorted.

“What do you think?” Shen Huaijing mumbled, “It’s all because of you…”

The waitress brought their food, and Shen Huaijing’s eyes locked on her rice noodles. Now she had no time to quarrel with Fu Chen. She grabbed the bowl and started eating noisily.

It had been ages since she’d tasted noodles from a little alley eatery. Her days were filled with Western cuisine, elaborate meals, or seafood.

In contrast, Fu Chen’s every movement radiated elegance. Even while eating, his back remained perfectly straight, as if a pride and nobility in him refused to bow.

Perhaps the only time he’d ever bent down was just now, carrying Shen Huaijing.

He took a small bowl, scooped out some food, and set it aside.

Despite his refined habits, Fu Chen ate quickly. Shen Huaijing had only finished half her bowl when Fu Chen was already done. He pushed the prepared small bowl in front of her.

“Eat up.”

Shen Huaijing grinned and nodded, keeping pace so as not to be outdone.

Fu Chen watched the woman before him devour her food. He couldn’t understand how this woman could have such contrasting sides—seductive and captivating one moment, pure and adorable the next.

He was deeply drawn to this duality in Shen Huaijing, and he longed to discover what had shaped her into who she was. He wanted to step into her life, into her heart.

“Ding.”

A message popped up: “Everything in France is arranged. Once you return, we’ll depart.” It was from Lin Yu on WeChat.

Fu Chen discreetly replied beneath the table, “Have you found the person? Is it confirmed?”

“Yes. Fu Chen, you can’t hesitate this time. After all these years, we can’t afford any mistakes.”

Fu Chen gazed deeply at Shen Huaijing, an unusual look flickering in his eyes.

“No one will stand in the way of my plans.”