The silence in the car lasted until they pulled into the villa’s underground garage.
When the engine cut out, the world suddenly became still, leaving only the sound of their nearly imperceptible breathing. Cheng Wei was the first to step out, respectfully opening the car door. Lin Yang moved almost immediately, desperate to escape the suffocating, narrow space.
However, just as he leaned forward to exit, a well-defined hand reached out, hovering just above the doorframe to protect his head. The movement was fluid and natural, a gentlemanly habit carved into the man’s bones. Lin Yang’s body stiffened. Without looking back, he whispered a “thank you” so faint it was barely audible, then quickly stepped out, maintaining as much distance as possible from the hand’s owner.
Li Chenzhou exited after him, his face once again devoid of expression, as if the person who had acted so irrationally in the restroom was merely a figment of Lin Yang’s imagination. He strode toward the elevator with his long legs, and Lin Yang followed silently, a few paces behind.
Inside the elevator, the silence became thick and heavy once more. Lin Yang stared at the changing floor numbers, keenly aware of the man’s gaze on him. This look was no longer piercingly cold; instead, it carried a heavy, undeniable scrutiny. Lin Yang clenched his hands, forcing himself to keep his back straight and hide his unease.
The elevator doors opened, and Li Chenzhou stepped out first. He didn’t head straight to the master bedroom, however. He stopped in the hallway and turned around, his dark gaze landing on Lin Yang. Lin Yang’s heart leaped. He halted and looked back at him warily.
The dim light of the wall sconce outlined Li Chenzhou’s hard features. He remained silent for a few seconds, seemingly choosing his words, before finally uttering a few low, steady syllables: “Get some rest.”
With that, he turned, pushed open the door to the master bedroom, and walked inside without a backward glance.
The door closed softly. Lin Yang stood alone, staring at the shut door with a mess of conflicting emotions. The phrase “Get some rest” was plain, even carrying his usual commanding tone, but in the context of the night’s events, it somehow felt less icy.
He took a deep breath and hurried into his own apartment. He locked the door behind him and leaned against it, finally letting his guard down as his strength seemed to drain away. Everything from tonight replayed in his mind like a bizarre dream: Li Chenzhou’s dominant protection, the clumsy care in the restroom, and those sudden fragments of past-life memories. It all tangled together, leaving him mentally exhausted and nursing a splitting headache.
A familiar dull ache began to throb in his stomach. His stomach had always been weak, a condition worsened by irregular eating and emotional distress in his previous life. Since his rebirth, he had tried to be careful, but the stress of the blocked divorce, the lack of work, and tonight’s emotional upheaval had triggered the old ailment.
Clutching his stomach, he walked to the kitchen for hot water, only to find the kettle empty. Too tired to boil more, he took a bottle of iced water from the fridge and took several gulps. The freezing liquid slid down his throat, temporarily numbing the burning pain but bringing a deeper chill to his body.
He curled up on the living room sofa, hugging his knees and staring at the dark sky outside. His mind was a whirlpool: Li Chenzhou’s cold face, his worried eyes, the despair of falling in his past life. Eventually, he drifted off to sleep right there on the sofa.
It was an unsettled sleep filled with nightmares. He dreamed he was trapped in a glass box while Li Chenzhou watched coldly from the outside. Then he dreamed of the hotel terrace from his past life—he was falling, yet he saw Li Chenzhou reaching out from above, his face contorted in unprecedented terror.
He was jolted awake by a violent spasm of stomach pain. By the time he opened his eyes, the sky was already gray with dawn. It felt as if a knife were twisting in his gut, and cold sweat instantly soaked his hair. He curled into a ball, trembling so hard he lacked the strength to stand.
In his blurred consciousness, he thought he heard the doorbell ringing urgently. But he couldn’t move to answer it. After an unknown amount of time, he heard the sound of the lock clicking open, followed by rushing footsteps.
A tall shadow loomed over him. Lin Yang struggled to open his eyes. Through his hazy vision, he saw Li Chenzhou’s face—enlarged and etched with anxiety and panic, looking even more distraught than he had on the balcony the night before.
“Lin Yang!” Li Chenzhou’s voice was raspy, carrying a frantic note Lin Yang had never heard. He reached out to feel Lin Yang’s forehead, his palm feeling burning hot. “What’s wrong?”
Lin Yang tried to speak, but the pain reduced his voice to a weak moan. His face was as white as paper. Li Chenzhou’s expression turned grim. He immediately bent down, his movements slightly rough yet carefully controlled, and scooped Lin Yang up in a bridal carry.
A sense of weightlessness hit him, and Lin Yang instinctively grabbed the man’s lapels. Li Chenzhou carried him quickly into the bedroom, laying him carefully on the bed before immediately dialing a number, his tone sharp and urgent: “Get Dr. Li here now! Immediately!”
Hanging up, he looked at Lin Yang curled in pain on the bed. His brow was knotted into a deep frown as he paced the room anxiously, clearly at a loss for how to alleviate the suffering. He reached out to touch Lin Yang’s face but pulled back as if burned, eventually just clenching his fists until his knuckles turned white.
The family doctor arrived quickly with his medical bag. Seeing Li Chenzhou’s terrifying expression and the semi-conscious Lin Yang, the doctor was visibly startled.
The diagnosis was acute gastritis and a low fever, primarily caused by emotional fluctuations, mental tension, and poor diet. The doctor administered a painkiller, started an IV drip, and prescribed medication. Throughout the process, Li Chenzhou stood by the bed, his face so dark it seemed he might storm at any moment. The heavy aura he radiated made even the experienced Dr. Li nervous, causing his movements to become even more cautious.
Once the painkiller took effect, Lin Yang’s agony gradually subsided. Under the influence of the medicine and exhaustion, he drifted back into a heavy sleep.
By the time he woke up again, it was already afternoon. The sunlight filtered softly through the sheer curtains.
His stomach no longer ached, but he felt weak and drained.
When he opened his eyes, he found himself lying comfortably in bed under a soft duvet. A small piece of medical tape remained on the back of his hand where the IV drip had been. The room was silent; he was alone.
Memories of last night—or rather, the early hours of this morning—slowly trickled back. Li Chenzhou’s panicked face, the sound of rushing footsteps, the family doctor.
Did he carry me back to bed? Did he call the doctor himself?
Lin Yang propped himself up to sit. His throat was parched. He had just slipped on his slippers to get some water when the bedroom door was pushed open softly.
It was Auntie Zhang, the housekeeper responsible for cleaning the apartment across the hall. She was carrying a tray with a glass of water and a few tablets.
“Mr. Lin, you’re awake?” Seeing him sitting up, Auntie Zhang’s face broke into a relieved smile. “Are you feeling any better? Mr. Li instructed me to watch over you and make sure you took your medicine as soon as you woke up.”
Lin Yang took the glass and drank. The cool water soothed his dry throat. “Thank you, Auntie Zhang.” His voice was still raspy. “Where is… where is he?”
“Mr. Li went to the office early this morning. Apparently, there’s a very important meeting.” Auntie Zhang handed him the pills and watched him swallow them. Then, as if remembering something, she lowered her voice, a mysterious, knowing smile touching her lips. “Mr. Lin, are you hungry? There’s congee simmering in the kitchen. Mr. Li specifically ordered it; it’s been cooking all morning!”
Congee?
Lin Yang froze. Congee ordered specifically by Li Chenzhou? He did feel hungry, his stomach hollow and empty. He nodded slowly.
Auntie Zhang beamed. “Then wait right here, I’ll bring you a bowl! Mr. Li reminded me several times that your stomach is sensitive. He said it had to be simmered until it was completely soft so it would be easy for you to digest!”
As he watched Auntie Zhang hurry out, that strange, unsettling feeling surged in Lin Yang’s heart again. Li Chenzhou… he had even considered details like his weak stomach and the texture of the congee?
He stood up and walked slowly into the living room. The apartment was quiet, though a faint, slightly unusual smell of food lingered in the air. Auntie Zhang soon returned from the kitchen with a white porcelain bowl.
The bowl was nearly full, but the appearance of the congee was, frankly, less than impressive. The rice grains had indeed bloomed and were soft, but the color was uneven. Some spots looked slightly scorched, showing a pale yellowish-brown hue, and there were… suspicious, small lumps that hadn’t quite dissolved. The overall texture looked like a sticky, messy clump; it wasn’t exactly appetizing.
“Mr. Lin, please eat while it’s hot!” Auntie Zhang urged warmly, still wearing that “you know what I mean” smile.
Lin Yang looked at the bowl. Hesitantly, he picked up the spoon, scooped a small mouthful, blew on it, and tasted it.
The flavor was complicated. The congee itself was very bland, seemingly without any seasoning, but there was a faint burnt taste and an underlying indescribable flavor, almost like certain medicinal herbs. The texture wasn’t great either; it was a bit grainy, likely from those undissolved lumps.
Did the family chef really make this? The skill level seemed highly unstable.
While he was wondering, Auntie Zhang, watching him eat, couldn’t help but add in a whisper, her tone full of sentiment: “Mr. Li truly cares for you. He stayed by the stove to watch over this congee himself. He was busy in the kitchen before dawn and wouldn’t let anyone else help, saying he wanted to do it himself. He just might be a bit out of practice; he didn’t quite master the heat.”
The hand Lin Yang was holding the spoon with jerked to a halt, frozen in mid-air.
He made it himself?
He looked at the unappealing congee in the bowl with utter disbelief, then looked up at Auntie Zhang. She nodded at him with certainty, her eyes saying, It’s the absolute truth.
An indescribable surge of complex emotions hit Lin Yang like a spice rack being overturned, sweet, sour, bitter, and salty all at once. Ultimately, it transformed into a massive sense of absurdity and a faint, yet undeniable, ache.
Li Chenzhou. That cold-blooded, ruthless man who ruled the business world. The man who, only the night before, had acted like a demon and crushed someone’s wrist. He had actually stayed in the kitchen before dawn, clumsily making a bowl of congee for him? Just because the doctor said his stomach was weak?
What exactly does this mean?
Lin Yang lowered his head, staring at the burnt-tasting, strange-looking congee. His eyes suddenly grew hot and blurred uncontrollably. He blinked rapidly, forcing back the uncharacteristic moisture, then picked up the spoon. One mouthful at a time, he silently and seriously ate the entire bowl.
The taste was still not good. But miraculously, a warmth spread through his stomach.