She secretly glanced at Fu Linfeng.
He was drinking soup, composed and unhurried. His gaze rested on the rim of the bowl, and his expression was the same as always—cold and distant.
As if seeing that bouquet in the living room had been no different from seeing a chair or a table.
A trace of disappointment rose in Wen Xi’s heart.
It was not disappointment that he did not like the flowers—he was the President of Fu Group Corporation. What expensive flowers had he not seen before?
Imported Ecuadorian roses, Dutch tulips, Japanese cherry blossom branches—there was nothing luxurious he had not seen.
The bouquet Lin Manman had wrapped probably did not even cost a hundred yuan in total. How could he possibly think highly of it?
What disappointed her was… he had not even asked about it.
Even a casual, “Did you go out today?” would have been enough. But he said nothing at all. It was as if where she had gone, who she had met, and what she had brought back had nothing to do with him.
Wen Xi bit her lip and swallowed that small disappointment along with the rice in her mouth.
She reminded herself: he was that kind of person. He had made it clear from the beginning. There were no feelings involved, only a transaction.
She could not start expecting more just because he had told her “Go to sleep,” had someone buy ointment for her, and transferred her two hundred thousand yuan for living expenses.
That would be crossing the line.
She lowered her head and continued eating.
After a few bites, she still could not hold it in.
“Um…” Wen Xi put down her chopsticks, her voice soft. “I went out today.”
Fu Linfeng did not stop picking up food. He merely gave a quiet “Mm,” indicating that he had heard her.
“I went to a friend’s flower shop.”
Wen Xi lightly traced her fingers against the edge of the table. “She’s my best friend. We met when we worked at the factory. When I was at my worst before… she was the one who helped me.”
As she spoke, her voice unconsciously softened.
Those memories ran too deep—so deep that every time she thought about them, her nose would sting.
Fu Linfeng did not respond, but neither did he interrupt her.
He set down his chopsticks, leaned back against the chair, and picked up the teacup on the table for a sip. His gaze rested on the tabletop, though it was impossible to tell what he was looking at.
Wen Xi took a deep breath and continued.
“I went there today to pay her back. Before this, I owed her over ten thousand yuan and never managed to repay it. And also…”
She paused. “I wanted to tell her I got married.”
At that point, she suddenly became nervous, her speech quickening.
“I didn’t tell her who you are. I only said… I only said you were an executive at Fu Group Corporation with the surname Fu. I didn’t say you were the President, really. When she asked, I just said you were an ordinary department manager. She won’t know—”
The faster she spoke, the more it seemed as if she feared he would not believe her. She hurriedly added, “I swear, I haven’t mentioned your identity to anyone. She only thinks I married an ordinary executive. She doesn’t know anything else.”
Holding the teacup, Fu Linfeng watched Wen Xi anxiously trying to clear herself, and his brows furrowed slightly.
Not out of anger.
It was a feeling he could not quite describe.
His wife did not even dare admit outside that she had married him.
Was he, Fu Linfeng, too embarrassing to mention?
The thought flashed through his mind and was quickly suppressed.
What was he thinking?
This marriage had been a transaction from the start. Keeping a low profile was the right thing to do. If she went around showing off everywhere, it would only create trouble.
He told himself she had done the right thing.
But that feeling of being “unpresentable” was like a thin thorn lodged somewhere he had thought long numb. It did not hurt, but it irritated him.
“And then?” he asked, his tone as calm as ever.
Wen Xi swallowed hard and finally gathered the courage to say the most important thing.
“Her flower shop… has run into some difficulties. The landlord wants to raise the rent too much, and she can barely keep going anymore. She wants to move somewhere else and reopen the shop, but she doesn’t have enough money.”
She looked up at Fu Linfeng, her gaze earnest and sincere.
“I want to invest in it.”
Fu Linfeng’s brows shifted slightly.
“She’ll provide the skills, experience, and supplier channels. I’ll provide the money,” Wen Xi said. “We’ll split everything fifty-fifty and build the shop together. I’ve calculated it already. The startup funds will probably need around one hundred fifty to two hundred thousand yuan—”
“Where are you getting the money?” Fu Linfeng interrupted.
Wen Xi froze for a moment before instinctively answering, “The living expenses you gave me… I can save them.”
Fu Linfeng looked at her, his eyes calm as still water.
“My money isn’t for you to throw into random investments.”
His voice was not harsh, but every word landed like a nail hammered into place.
Wen Xi’s heart sank abruptly.
“It’s not a random investment…”
Her voice quieted, but she still tried to finish speaking.
“She’s been running that flower shop for three years already. She has stable customers and supplier channels. The only problem is the rent. We calculated it already. As long as we move to a better location, the income can double…”
The more she spoke, the less confidence she had, because Fu Linfeng’s expression never changed.
He sat there with the teacup in hand, listening as though he were hearing a mediocre report from a subordinate.
“And…”
Wen Xi’s voice became even softer.
“I don’t really have anything to do at home during the day… I want to find something to do. If I open a flower shop, I’ll have work to keep me busy, and I can earn some money too. I won’t just spend your—”
She suddenly stopped mid-sentence.
“Spend your money for nothing”—
The moment those words left her mouth, even she felt they sounded wrong.
Their relationship had always been an exchange of money and transactions. Spending his money was part of the arrangement. What was there for her to feel embarrassed about?
But she still felt uneasy.
Those clothes, those pieces of jewelry, the two hundred thousand yuan in that bank card—every time she accepted them, it felt as though she was holding something that did not belong to her.
She needed to do something. She needed to earn money that truly belonged to her, so she could stand in this house and stand before him with confidence.
Even if he did not care at all.
Fu Linfeng set down his teacup, picked up his chopsticks again, and placed a piece of spare rib into his mouth, chewing slowly.
His movements were calm and unhurried, as if he were thinking about something—or perhaps nothing at all.
Wen Xi sat across from him, waiting several long seconds.
What she finally got was only this:
“Eat first.”
Three words. Neither warm nor cold. Neither agreement nor refusal.
Half of Wen Xi’s heart turned cold.
She lowered her head and picked up her chopsticks again, placing a piece of stir-fried greens into her mouth. The vegetables had been cooked perfectly, crisp and fresh, but she could not taste anything at all.
He had not said yes.
But neither had he said no.
“Eat first” could mean “We’ll talk after dinner.”
Or it could mean “Don’t bring it up again.”
Knowing Fu Linfeng’s personality, the latter possibility seemed far greater.
Wen Xi mechanically chewed her food, staring at the rice in her bowl as her nose stung faintly.
She should not have hoped for too much.
The money was his. He had every right to decide how it would be spent. And he was not wrong either—a factory girl who had not even graduated from high school suddenly talking about investing in a flower shop… anyone would think she was being unrealistic.
But…
That was Lin Manman.
Night came again.
After showering, Wen Xi walked out with her hair only half-dried, hanging loosely over her shoulders.
She climbed into bed and lay down on the side closest to the window.
She pulled the blanket up to her chin, curled her body toward the window, and left her back facing the other half of the bed.
The sound of running water came from the bathroom.
Her fingers gripped the edge of the blanket tightly, the knuckles turning pale.
Tonight, she did not want to.
Not because she was still in pain—the bruises had mostly faded, and the soreness had nearly disappeared.
It was because of that sentence at dinner: “Eat first.”
It had felt like a bucket of cold water poured over her head, and even now, her chest still felt cold.
She could not even explain what she was sulking over.
The money belonged to him. He had every right to refuse.
But she simply did not want to.
She did not want to obediently lie there, obediently cooperate, obediently play the role of a “well-behaved” wife at a time like this.
She had a temper too.