“But…” Chen Shaoqing was not very satisfied with the outcome, but after seeing Shen Molan’s cold eyes, he suppressed his frustration, after all, this was his savior. How infuriating.
As soon as the two left, Feng Wuhen finally couldn’t hold back and covered his mouth, coughing. When he finished, there were traces of blood on his palm. He had spoken too fast earlier, and his body wasn’t able to keep up, now it was starting to protest.
Shen Molan and Chen Shaoqing stayed in separate guest rooms—one next to Feng Wuhen’s, where Shen Molan stayed, and the other where Chen Shaoqing stayed was at the far western end, the furthest from the master bedroom.
Of course, it was arranged by Feng Wuhen.
He had only thought that Shen Molan and Chen Shaoqing were not truly together, guessing that Shen Molan harbored a secret crush but didn’t dare express it. As for whether Chen Shaoqing liked men, that was another matter. Feng Wuhen, being used to playing the villain, thought it wouldn’t hurt to shift Shen Molan’s affections, at least a little—it would be such a waste not to take the chance otherwise.
Now things had taken a turn: Shen Molan indeed felt something for Feng Wuhen, though now he hated him even more.
How ungrateful. Sure, Feng Wuhen had set conditions that Shen Molan disliked, but he had also genuinely saved Chen Shaoqing. Besides, Feng Wuhen thought, during their eight months of intimate life, Shen Molan must have enjoyed it at least once or twice, right?
Unfortunately, he didn’t dare ask, knowing exactly how Shen Molan would react.
The first time they did it, after it was over, Feng Wuhen endured the pain in his lower body. He habitually curled his lips into a smile and leaned towards Shen Molan’s bare chest. “Molan, do you like me even a little bit now?”
Feng Wuhen especially enjoyed saying Shen Molan’s name—it sounded so gentle to him. He always thought their names matched perfectly: Feng Wuhen— a breeze leaving without a trace, and Shen Molan—a calm, misty peak. Together, they were a perfect pair. What did Chen Shaoqing have to do with any of it?
Shen Molan’s reaction to the question…? Feng Wuhen still remembered it vividly, though he wished he could forget.
His thin lips slightly curled, but what came out was a cold snort of disdain, “I thought the Master of Feng Manor knew we were just exchanging terms, each getting what we need.”
Feng Wuhen’s blood turned cold in an instant. He had forgotten. He had gotten a little ahead of himself, thinking Shen Molan had felt something during their intimacy. Now, it seemed it was all just in his imagination.
Feng Wuhen forced a nonchalant smile. “I know, Molan. I just saw you were enjoying yourself earlier and thought I’d ask.”
He knew how to stab people with words, and sure enough, Shen Molan’s expression darkened. He got up, dressed, and left.
After hearing the door slam, Feng Wuhen finally let his smile fade and gently closed his eyes.
Facing both Shen Molan and Chen Shaoqing today, talking and walking so much, left him feeling dizzy. He couldn’t help but call out, “Ying Zuo.”
“Here, Master.”
Ying Zuo swiftly leaped into the room from outside. As a shadow guard, his hearing was excellent, and he could hear even Feng Wuhen’s faintest whisper from a hundred meters away.
“Take me back to my room…” Feng Wuhen still wanted to say, then wake me up. But his brain couldn’t keep up, and after finishing the first half of the sentence, he lost consciousness.
When he woke up again, night had already fallen. Xiao Lian was by his bedside, shedding tears.
Feng Wuhen sighed inwardly and was about to reach out to pat her head when he suddenly became alarmed.
“What time is it now?” Have Molan and Chen Shaoqing left?
Xiao Lian sniffled and answered in a soft voice, “Almost the third watch.”
Feng Wuhen cursed inwardly. He had slept for so long.
“Has Molan gone to sleep?”
Xiao Lian, displeased that he was still asking about that awful person, turned her head and reluctantly replied, “Probably asleep…”
Before she could finish, Feng Wuhen had already hurried out of bed and headed to the next room.
Shen Molan was not actually asleep.
After tidying his things, he had closed his eyes to rest. He had a feeling Feng Wuhen would come looking for him tonight, but as it approached the third watch and he still hadn’t shown up, Shen Molan extinguished the light, preparing to sleep.
Just then, there was a soft knock at the door.
“Molan, are you asleep?”
He’s here. Shen Molan sneered inwardly. He knew he would come.
But since he was leaving in the morning, Shen Molan coldly replied, “Is something the matter, Master Feng?”
There was a brief pause outside before the door opened and someone entered, turning around to bolt the door shut behind them.
Shen Molan shifted in bed.
Soon, a warm body pressed gently against his back, careful not to get too close and provoke him.
“Molan, you’re leaving tomorrow,” Feng Wuhen said softly, stating a fact.
Shen Molan didn’t respond.
“After you leave, could you find some time to visit me?” After a moment, Feng Wuhen added, “Within the next month is fine. I’ll send Ying Zuo and Ying You to fetch you. If you don’t want to come after a month, then don’t bother.”
He thought to himself, when people die, they probably look quite unpleasant. A cold tombstone might disgust Molan. It would be better if he came while Feng Wuhen was still conscious, so that before he died, he could see Molan one last time. It would resolve some of his regrets.
Shen Molan replied indifferently, “You certainly know how to plan things.”
Feng Wuhen teased, “The Feng Manor looks beautiful in September. You missed it last year. The ground is covered in golden and red leaves, and the lake sparkles with light. You’d like it.”
Shen Molan’s only response was a derisive snort.
Feng Wuhen spoke too quickly, feeling short of breath, and couldn’t help but cough lightly.
Shen Molan didn’t outright refuse him, so maybe he would come?
Feng Wuhen gently pressed his face against Molan’s back and said, “I can have Ying Zuo and Ying You come get you. I can wait for you.”
Shen Molan was growing impatient. “I’m tired.”
Feng Wuhen made a sound of acknowledgment but didn’t move.
After a brief hesitation, he whispered, “Molan, could you…”
Shen Molan was annoyed. He hated how Feng Wuhen sometimes spoke in a broken, hesitant manner.
Feng Wuhen finally said, “Could you call me ‘Wuhen’ like before? Just for tonight.”
That’s what this was about?
Shen Molan didn’t bother replying, closing his eyes and quickly drifting into sleep.
Luckily, Feng Wuhen didn’t speak again to disturb him.
Feng Wuhen kept his face pressed against Shen Molan’s innerwear, listening to the steady rhythm of his breathing, knowing the man was already asleep.
With difficulty, he lifted himself up and gently kissed Shen Molan’s lips, which were usually tightly pressed in coldness but now softened in sleep.
In his deep dream, Shen Molan felt a warm liquid drop onto his face. Puzzled, he was about to wake, but then a gentle hand wiped it away, and he was lulled back into slumber.