Wen Xi did not know what to say, so she kept saying, “Thank you, Mom,” over and over again.
Fu Linfeng sat beside her and watched the scene unfold. He said nothing. He only picked up his teacup, took a sip, and when he set it down, he lightly tapped her arm.
Wen Xi turned to look at him, but he was not looking at her. Instead, he pushed her cup slightly toward her—refilled with tea.
After dinner, Fu’s mother pulled Wen Xi to sit in the living room for a while longer and showed her photos of Fu Linfeng as a child.
The child in the photos was completely different from the man he was now.
In one picture, the little boy wore a blue suit, his expression serious, lips pressed tightly together like a miniature adult.
In another, he was seven or eight years old, riding a small bicycle with a balloon tied to the back. That time, there was finally a faint smile on his face.
“This one looks nice,” Wen Xi said, pointing at the bicycle photo, unable to hold back a smile.
“I secretly took this one,” Fu’s mother lowered her voice as if sharing a secret. “He didn’t like taking photos, so I took it when he wasn’t paying attention. Look, how good his smile is.”
Wen Xi looked at the small version of Fu Linfeng in the photo, then glanced at the adult Fu Linfeng sitting on the sofa nearby, expressionless as he scrolled on his phone.
Suddenly, she felt—
He had not really changed.
Still the same child who did not smile often, who did not know how to express himself, who hid all his emotions deep inside.
He had simply learned to protect himself with coldness.
“All right, all right,” Fu’s mother said, checking the time. “It’s getting late. You two should head back early. Wen Xi still has to open her shop tomorrow.”
She stood up and took out an elegant bag from under the coffee table, handing it to Wen Xi.
“This is for you. First meeting—Mom’s small token.”
Wen Xi quickly waved her hands.
“No, no, this is too much—”
“Take it.”
Fu’s mother pushed it into her hands, her tone leaving no room for refusal.
“It’s nothing expensive, just a silk scarf. I thought it would look better with what you wore today.”
Wen Xi lowered her head and looked inside the bag.
A soft off-white silk scarf with small pale pink flowers embroidered on it.
Her eyes grew warm again. She looked up at Fu’s mother, her voice slightly choked.
“Thank you, Mom.”
“What are you thanking me for?” Fu’s mother smiled and patted her hand. “Next time you come, don’t bring gifts. Just come yourself.”
Fu’s father also stood up and escorted them to the door.
He patted Fu Linfeng on the shoulder without saying anything, but the gesture carried a silent understanding only men shared.
Wen Xi said goodbye to Fu’s parents and turned to follow Fu Linfeng down the steps.
When she reached the car, she suddenly stopped and looked back at the Ancestral House.
Warm yellow light glowed through the windows. Fu’s mother was still standing at the door, waving at her.
Wen Xi waved back, then turned around.
Fu Linfeng had already opened the passenger door and was waiting for her.
She bent down and got in, carefully placing the scarf bag on her lap.
He closed the door, walked around the front of the car, and sat in the driver’s seat.
When the car started moving, Wen Xi leaned back into the seat and let out a long breath.
“Not nervous anymore?” Fu Linfeng asked. His voice was still calm, but softer than when they had come.
Wen Xi shook her head, then nodded, then shook her head again. Even she could not tell how she felt anymore.
“Your mother… she’s really nice,” she said softly.
“Mm.”
“Your father is too.”
“Mm.”
“They… seem to like me quite a lot.”
Fu Linfeng did not respond.
The car passed through the iron gate and turned onto the long tree-lined road.
By the time they returned to the villa, it was nearly eleven.
Wen Xi changed her shoes, carefully placed the silk scarf bag in the living room, and went upstairs to shower.
When she came out, Fu Linfeng was already in the bedroom.
He had changed into pajamas and was leaning against the headboard, holding his phone, scrolling through something.
Hearing her come out, he looked up.
She was wearing a light pink cotton sleep dress, her hair half-dried and draped over her shoulders. The warmth of the shower had left her skin faintly flushed.
She walked to the dressing table, sat down, and slowly began combing her hair, stroke by stroke. She looked relaxed.
Fu Linfeng put his phone down and got out of bed.
He walked behind her and took the comb from her hand.
Wen Xi froze slightly and looked at him through the mirror.
He stood behind her, his tall frame enveloping her. One hand gently lifted the ends of her hair while the other slowly combed from top to bottom, careful and steady.
His movements were light. The teeth of the comb passed through her hair without any tugging.
She watched his reflection in the mirror.
Head lowered. Focused.
Fu’s mother’s words echoed in her mind—
“He’s very meticulous.”
It was true.
“Fu Linfeng,” she called softly.
“Mm?”
“Thank you.”
His fingers paused for a brief moment in her hair, then continued.
“What for?”
Wen Xi thought for a moment, but did not answer.
There were too many things. So many she could not put them into words.
“Just… thank you,” she said.
Fu Linfeng did not respond.
He set the comb aside, gathered her hair gently with his fingers, smoothing it down. Then he leaned forward and pressed his lips lightly to the top of her head, lingering for a second.
The touch was so light it felt like an accident—but Wen Xi knew it was not.
In the next moment, he lifted her from the chair.
She gasped softly and instinctively wrapped her arms around his neck.
He carried her to the bed and set her down, then leaned over her.
Wen Xi’s fingers gripped the collar of his pajamas. Instead of pushing him away, she slowly and gently pulled the fabric down from his shoulder.
That night, Fu Linfeng was pushed to the edge of losing control by her.
Afterward, neither of them moved.
He lay on top of her, breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling sharply.
A thought suddenly flashed through Wen Xi’s mind—
Having children.
He had said he married her to have children.
But so much time had passed, and he had never brought it up again.
He had never checked her ovulation days, never given her medication, never done anything “for the sake of having children.”
Every time, he had used protection.
She did not know whether he simply did not want children, or—
She did not dare to ask.
But tonight, she suddenly wanted to.
“Fu Linfeng,” she said softly.
“Mm?”
“You once said… you married me to have children.”
He propped himself up slightly and looked down at her.
Her face was still flushed, lips slightly swollen, eyes moist. She looked at him with a cautious, tentative gaze.
“But…” her voice grew even softer, “you don’t seem… in a hurry.”
Fu Linfeng looked at her and remained silent for a few seconds.
Then he rolled off her and lay beside her, one arm behind his head, staring at the ceiling.
“Not in a hurry.”
Wen Xi turned onto her side to look at him.
Under the bedside light, his profile looked especially sharp. His jaw was tense, his Adam’s apple moving slightly.
“Why?” she asked.