“I don’t want to!”
An Li cried out and immediately snatched the ointment from his hand, her expression looking worse than if she were about to cry.
Letting him help apply the medicine—she would rather die.
Duan Zhuo slipped one hand into his pocket, his low voice drifting lazily toward her. “You usually stutter when you talk. Why is it that every time you reject me, you speak faster than I do?”
When talking to Duan Xingning: turtle speed.When arguing with Duan Zhuo: turtle speed.When rejecting Duan Zhuo: rocket launch speed.
And one more—she was also very fluent when scolding him.
Her stutter wasn’t congenital; it seemed more like something developed later, though the reason was unknown. She had been like this from the first day she arrived at the Duan Family.
Duan Zhuo pointed it out, but An Li herself had never noticed these small details. At this moment, however, she didn’t want to discuss it with him. “The m-medicine is here. You can leave now.”
“I don’t want to leave,” Duan Zhuo replied.
She froze.
“Give me a kiss before I go.”
A hint of embarrassment and annoyance flashed across her face. “I refuse.”
“You should fix that bad habit of not liking to kiss me.”
“Do you have any shame?”
“You were pretty proactive last night. Now you’re this resistant just to kiss me once?” Duan Zhuo drawled lazily. “What a heartless woman.”
If he insisted on staying, An Li really had no way to deal with him.
He was so big—she couldn’t push him away.
And she couldn’t call for help. If the servants saw them together in her room, he would be the happy one.
She had read online that the best way to deal with an overly energetic dog was to ignore it.
That method should work on him too.
So An Li decided to pretend he didn’t exist.
Once he got bored, he would leave on his own.
An Li had just taken a shower and was still wearing a bathrobe. She went into the dressing room to change into her pajamas.
Her sleepwear was always conservative, leaning toward a cute, childish style—either fruit patterns or cartoon designs.
This time, she wore a light blue pajama set with a cloud theme. On her head was a nightcap similar in style to a Santa hat, with a fluffy white pom-pom—except it was light blue.
After changing and stepping out, she thought Duan Zhuo would get bored and leave.
Instead, he looked her up and down, and like a dog seeing a bone, he became even more excited. “Going to sleep? Should I turn off the lights, or will you?”
What did that mean?
Was he planning to stay here?
An Li patiently explained, “This is… my room.”
“I don’t mind,” Duan Zhuo replied.
“…………”
Could he just leave?
Seeing him walk straight toward her pink princess bed, An Li quickly ran over to block him, black lines forming on her forehead. “Who said you could sleep? This is my bed.”
“I know.”
“You can’t sleep on my bed.”
“Why?” Duan Zhuo asked matter-of-factly. “Didn’t you sleep on my bed yesterday?”
“T-that was an accident.”
“Tonight can be an accident too.”
As he spoke, he moved a few steps closer to her bed.
An Li was so anxious she nearly jumped. “If you keep this up, I—I’ll…”
He stopped, looking at her leisurely, like teasing a kitten. “What will you do?”
“I’ll kick you.”
“Oh.” He didn’t care. “That’s the good part. What about the bad part?”
She was too stunned to speak.
Duan Zhuo lowered his gaze, looking with interest at her small pale feet inside her pink slippers. The girl was soft everywhere—and small everywhere. He could hold both her feet in one hand.
But he preferred holding her ankles with both hands.
That way it would be easier to—
Suddenly, his vision went dark.
A soft pillow carrying the sweet scent of jasmine and orange blossom hit his head.
He was caught off guard, but since she didn’t use much force, he remained standing still, even catching a corner of the pillow with one hand. He looked at her helplessly, a smile tugging at his lips. “Why are you hitting your husband with a pillow?”
Hadn’t she said she would kick him?
What a dishonest little heartbreaker.
No matter what, he was completely unmoved.
“I’ll say this one last time—you are not my husband,” An Li said, her lips growing tired from repeating it.
Duan Zhuo tossed the question back at her. “Then tell me—what are we right now?”
“Stran—”
She had barely uttered two syllables.
Duan Zhuo let out a dark chuckle. “Strangers? Say that again?”
Even if nothing had happened between them, they couldn’t be strangers. She had come to the Duan Family at twelve and had lived there for ten years. They had grown up under the same roof. He was even two years older than her—no matter what, he counted as a familiar childhood companion.
“F-friends,” An Li corrected herself, afraid of angering him and bringing unnecessary trouble upon herself.
“Friends? You sleep in the same bed with your friends? You hold your friend’s—”
Before he could finish, another pillow flew at him.
This time it didn’t hit him. He caught it steadily, but didn’t continue speaking. The meaning was obvious enough.
He had no intention of being just a “friend.”
Unless it was “boyfriend.”
“Whatever. I don’t want to talk to you anymore,” An Li said, walking over to grab one of her pillows. “I’m sleepy. I want to rest. Hurry up and leave.”
When she tried to grab the second pillow, she realized he was holding it tightly and had no intention of returning it.
Duan Zhuo lowered his gaze, studying her fair face. “Bad mood?”
She froze.
She hadn’t expected him—usually so careless and frivolous—to notice something like that.
“No,” An Li denied quickly.
“I haven’t seen you smile since I came in.”
“That’s because I don’t want to see you.”
“Then who do you want to see? My brother? Should I call him over so you can smile at him?”
Was this man crazy?
Duan Zhuo only needed half a second to notice she was in a bad mood, and another half second to guess the reason—it was probably related to Duan Xingning.
He hit the mark directly. “Did you see your future sister-in-law this afternoon?”
“…Yes,” An Li said softly, sitting cross-legged at the edge of the bed. “Miss Wen is very beautiful. She matches Brother Duan well.”
“You’re beautiful too,” Duan Zhuo said.
Since school days, the two brothers had chased away countless suitors for her.
Small face, soft personality, obedient—she was practically a magnet for troublemakers.
An Li lowered her head and sighed. “I’m not as tall as her, and I don’t have her elegance.”
“But your skin is fair, and you’re very cute,” Duan Zhuo said.
“I’m not cute… I-I stutter when I speak…”
“But your voice sounds nice.”
“M-my voice sounds nice?”
“Extremely nice.”
She looked up, stunned.
That sounded a bit exaggerated.
“You shouldn’t always focus on others’ strengths and your own weaknesses.” He suddenly leaned down, meeting her gaze. His peach-blossom eyes curved into a beautiful arc. “You should know that everyone is unique. You have your own strengths.”
Because of her stutter, she had always felt inferior, becoming nervous whenever she talked to others.
But around Duan Zhuo, that problem was gradually fading.
With him, she felt more at ease—more free.
“However,” Duan Zhuo slowed his tone and paused, “you have a big flaw.”
An Li blinked. “What?”
“You like my brother. Bad taste,” he said. “Just change it to liking me instead.”
As expected, he couldn’t stay serious for more than a few sentences.
Still, An Li’s attitude softened slightly. “I need to apply my medicine now. You can leave.”
Both her knee and the swollen area needed treatment.
Her knee was easy enough to handle, but…
“I’m largely responsible for your injuries. If you won’t let me help, at least let me watch,” Duan Zhuo said, reluctantly compromising. “Otherwise, I won’t feel at ease.”
“What are you worried about?”
“I’m afraid you won’t find the right place.”
“What place?”
The moment she asked, realization struck.
Her face flushed bright red with embarrassment and anger. “Duan Zhuo!”