Xia Xunqian held Feng Lin’s hand tightly at his side. After standing outside in the wind for a long time, his fingers felt icy cold.
Feng Lin’s eyes flickered with a sharp glint. Xia Xunqian’s hand was like touching ice, chilling to the bone.
“Third Brother, I thought you wouldn’t come back today,” Feng Jianjue said, raising an eyebrow as he looked at Feng Lin.
Feng Lin glanced at Xia Xunqian, his expression carrying a hint of reprimand.
“Why are you standing here?”
Xia Xunqian lifted his eyes, his long eyelashes lowering slightly. His cheeks were reddened from the wind.
“Waiting for you, sir…”
Feng Lin’s gaze darkened, and the pressure in his hand tightened slightly, his warm fingers pressing a little more.
He pulled Xia Xunqian forward. When they reached Feng Jianjue, Feng Lin coldly responded to him:
“There are still many things you can’t imagine.”
Feng Lin’s words were flat, but the dark tone gave an unnerving feeling.
After speaking, Feng Lin led Xia Xunqian through the main gate. Feng Jianjue watched them leave, his amusement growing.
Feng Lin held Xia Xunqian’s hand as they walked to the inner courtyard. Xia Xunqian followed, and the cold in his hands gradually faded.
Feng Lin’s hand was warm, still hot and gentle even after the long journey.
The quiet sound of their footsteps traveled up from Xia Xunqian’s wrist. When they reached the inner courtyard, Feng Lin suddenly stopped.
He frowned and lifted Xia Xunqian’s sleeve.
On the boy’s wrist was a silver bracelet carved with pomelo flowers. When it moved even slightly, it made a delicate tinkling sound.
Seeing Feng Lin staring at his wrist, Xia Xunqian looked down and quickly drew back his hand.
The bracelet didn’t make noise unless it was moved deliberately. Earlier, while Feng Lin held him, Xia Xunqian had to move quickly to keep up, which made it tinkle.
With his other hand, Xia Xunqian covered the bracelet and gently rubbed it.
“I like this… so I’ll keep wearing it.”
Feng Lin’s gaze landed on Xia Xunqian’s face. The boy’s lowered head looked slightly nervous.
“If you like it, then wear it,” Feng Lin said lightly.
His eyes flicked toward the gate. Feng Jianjue had already left.
Feng Lin pressed his lips together.
“What did Feng Jianjue say to you just now?”
Xia Xunqian smoothed his clothes and glanced at Feng Lin. His tone was restrained.
“Feng Jianjue isn’t a good person.”
Feng Lin’s lips curved slightly, his eyes studying him with curiosity.
“He’s part of the Feng family. I thought you would try to please him.”
The wind swept through the courtyard from all sides, brushing against Xia Xunqian.
The side house was dark, and the boy’s fingertips curled.
Xia Xunqian bit his cheek, his eyes darkening with a hint of sadness.
“Sir, what do you think I am?”
“A prostitute singing on a stage? Or a lowly person who smiles at anyone?”
Feng Lin hadn’t expected Xia Xunqian to retort so sharply.
“Who told you to speak to me like that?” he said, face cold, his presence chilling the air around them.
“Go back to your room.”
Xia Xunqian didn’t hesitate. He turned and walked quickly toward the east wing.
Feng Lin stared at his back in mild surprise, frowning slightly.
“Quite a temper,” he murmured.
The next day, Feng Lin realized Xia Xunqian was even more clearly upset.
He had planned to take Xia Xunqian to some business events to get him familiar with the scene. There happened to be a cocktail party that day, attended by the city’s elite.
Xia Xunqian got into the car properly, his previous irritation gone.
There could only be two reasons: he realized his mistake, or he was even angrier.
Feng Lin glanced at him from the side in the car.
“Why so quiet? Did I owe you something?” His magnetic voice was unsettling.
Xia Xunqian met his gaze.
“I’m always like this. If you don’t like it, then don’t look.”
Feng Lin’s mind tightened.
“You yelled at me—what are you angry about?”
“I’m not angry,” Xia Xunqian replied.
Feng Lin studied him, watching the boy sit close to the window.
“If you’re not angry, why sit so far away?”
Xia Xunqian didn’t answer. Slowly, he moved closer to Feng Lin and sat beside him, though he remained quiet.
Feng Lin’s thoughts churned. He finally spoke:
“If Feng Jianjue provokes or bullies you again, you can scold or hit him. Don’t hold back for appearances.”
Xia Xunqian’s fingers twitched, his eyes flashing a dark light.
“You said it, sir,” he emphasized.
“Exactly,” Feng Lin said firmly.
Xia Xunqian stared at him for a moment, then placed his hand on Feng Lin’s side, leaning slightly closer, testing the distance.
Their closeness grew intimate.
Suddenly, without warning, Xia Xunqian lightly kissed Feng Lin’s mouth corner.
The damp touch carried the salty breeze. His lips parted slightly, tongue brushing lightly quick, fleeting.
Even his words carried warmth and a hint of shyness.
“Thank you, sir.”