Wan Feng had gone to fetch Aunt Chen, and the butler wasn’t around either. At this moment, there was no one to stop Shu Qianzhi.
Her steps hesitated briefly, but she ultimately climbed the stairs to the second floor.
The second floor seemed like a mysterious area in this house. Aunt Li had warned her not to go upstairs without permission. She didn’t know what was up there, but right now she wasn’t thinking about that—she only knew it was the best chance to express her feelings to Ji Zechen.
The staircase wasn’t long, but her weary body made it feel like an eternity. Finally standing at the top, she could see the entire floor clearly.
Unlike the layout downstairs, every door was tightly shut. The place was so quiet that even a single footstep sounded particularly loud, and the temperature seemed several degrees colder.
Faced with so many rooms, Shu Qianzhi felt confused. When she noticed a sliver of light seeping from under one door, she headed straight toward it.
She knocked lightly twice and stood obediently waiting at the doorway, her facial features scrunched up nervously.
The door opened quickly, revealing Ji Zechen. His expression showed no particular emotion upon seeing her, though he didn’t seem angry either.
“Who gave you permission to come up?” His deep voice carried a hint of displeasure, though he didn’t immediately send her away. Instead, he blocked the doorway, looking down at her from his height.
“I came to apologize,” Shu Qianzhi mumbled, her voice weak and slightly hoarse. “I’m sorry for making you angry, brother.”
Ji Zechen crossed his arms and leaned against the wall, his cold gaze following her every move, yet revealing nothing of his emotions. “So that’s your excuse for coming up without permission?”
“There was no one downstairs, so I came straight up,” her voice grew even softer, her fingers nervously twisting the hem of her clothes, putting on a frightened appearance.
“Hah…” Ji Zechen felt like she was about to cry again and couldn’t help feeling irritated.
He hadn’t even scolded her, had he? Crying after just a few words—what was there to cry about?
He let out a frustrated sigh, not even wanting to look at her anymore, and walked back into the room—silently permitting her to enter.
Shu Qianzhi paused, clearly surprised by Ji Zechen’s reaction.
She followed him into the room, briefly scanning the space with her peripheral vision.
It appeared to be Ji Zechen’s study, though the room contained minimal decorations. Only one painting hanging on the wall stood out prominently.
Her gaze unconsciously lingered on the painting for a moment—an absurd abstract piece that seemed to vent some emotion. Though she didn’t know the artist, she felt an inexplicable connection to it.
After all… this style somewhat resembled her own.
Before she could ponder further, a roll of gauze came flying toward her, landing perfectly in her arms.
She looked down and picked up the gauze, then noticed several bottles of potion placed before her.
When she looked up at the person who had thrown these items, he had already turned away as if nothing had happened, standing by the window and lighting a cigarette while gazing outside.
The smell of smoke instantly filled the room, somewhat choking. Shu Qianzhi never expected this series of reactions from Ji Zechen, and her heart warmed considerably.
“Brother.” She spoke cautiously. Even though Ji Zechen hadn’t completely shown that his anger had subsided yet, she still held onto a sliver of hope to push her luck further. “My left hand isn’t very mobile. Could you help me?”
The person by the windowsill showed no reaction, only tossing back three words: “Do it yourself.”
“Oh.” Shu Qianzhi knew when to stop, but deep down she didn’t want to give up so easily. So she opened the medicated cream and pretended to clumsily apply it haphazardly.
The pain from the wound coming into contact with the medication was sharper than she had imagined. Being exceptionally sensitive to begin with, she couldn’t help but inhale sharply.
Remembering the person standing by the window, she took the opportunity to let out a soft cry: “It hurts…”
Her voice was faint, yet it carried an inexplicably unsettling quality.