Song Bo’s outer clothing clung damply to him, so he removed his jacket. His white shirt was also damp, clinging softly to his form and revealing the distinct, powerful lines of his muscles beneath. Su Fuying looked—and found herself gazing longer than she ought.
Song Bo was already striking in uniform; she had never guessed how strong and finely built he truly was beneath it. Compared to him, Qin Yiheng—who paraded about in fine clothes yet possessed nothing but soft, pale flesh underneath—was utterly worthless.
Oh dear. Since when had she, Su Fuying, begun judging men by their looks and physique?
She pulled herself back to her senses and lifted her gaze—only to meet Song Bo’s eyes, deep and steady, watching her. She looked away quickly, her tone even and composed. “General—if you are uncomfortable, you may bathe first.”
Song Bo glanced down at his unbuttoned collar and the firm lines of his chest revealed by the damp fabric. He seemed to understand exactly what had caught her attention. “Will it not be inconvenient?”
Su Fuying glanced up and found him looking directly at her. “Not at all.”
With that she turned and walked over to the desk. Only when she heard the bathroom door click shut did she let out a long, quiet breath. Her thoughts were in disarray. She rubbed her temples, breathed deeply several times, and reached for her books—when there came a knock at the door. Yu Sui’s voice called out.
“General? Miss Su?”
Su Fuying rose and opened the door. Yu Sui stood there holding a bundle of clothing. Seeing her, he explained hurriedly.
“The General departed in such haste he brought no change of clothes. I managed to purchase this from a shop nearby—please ask the General to make do with it for now.”
Song Bo was one of the key commanders of the Southern Faction. His journey to Northern Capital carried no small measure of risk; he held aircraft designs and access to Western military technology, and powerful forces would surely seek to turn that to their advantage. Yet he had ridden day and night just to reach her here in Southern Capital.
Yu Sui departed. Moments later Song Bo emerged from the bathroom, clad in a soft bathrobe, his hair still damp.
“Lieutenant Yu brought these,” Su Fuying said, placing the clothes upon the bed. “He asks that you make do.”
Song Bo brushed droplets from his hair and glanced at the paper bag. Inside lay precisely the kind of attire he detested most: a formal Western suit, complete with waistcoat. To wear such things made a man look like nothing more than a dandy—he had always avoided them. Yet he could scarcely travel through the night in a bathrobe.
Su Fuying bit back a smile and turned to open her own suitcase. “We must travel straight through. Dislike it though you may, you should still put it on—or you will be uncomfortable all the way.” She took fresh clothing and walked toward the bathroom. “Do as you please in here. I shall be some time.”
Steam filled the bathroom. The water was cool enough, yet Su Fuying felt heat rising all through her. Whatever had possessed her to invite this man into her room? If she had known how flustered he would make her feel, she would have told him to squeeze in with Tong Da and Shi Chang. She swirled the water absently, her mind wandering—unaware that the soft, rippling sounds added yet another layer of tender intimacy to the room beyond.
Outside, Song Bo stood listening to the gentle splashing. His thoughts had long since slipped beyond his control. He scarcely recalled pulling on the suit he despised. When he looked up, he was already standing before the mirror, straightening his collar. His mother and Yu Sui had both told him—he looked well in Western dress. He cared nothing for fashion. But would she like it?
Su Fuying’s reverie did not last long. She forced her mind back to what mattered. She must review examination questions. Northern Capital University was hers—she would claim it. Wealth, power, prestige—she meant to have them all. And if Song Bo truly felt for her as she suspected… perhaps she might dare to reach for love as well.
Wrapped in a towel, she opened the bathroom door. Song Bo stood directly facing it, turning as she stepped out.
She had seen him in military uniform—commanding, dignified, awe-inspiring. She had seen him in traditional robes—scholarly, steady, and upright. But in this tailored suit and waistcoat, he looked altogether different. It stripped away the gravity and reserve, revealing the brilliant, handsome youth beneath. He appeared refined, elegant, quiet, and strikingly handsome—though with that same unmistakable air of cool, disciplined restraint that was uniquely his.
The corner of Song Bo’s mouth lifted in a faint, satisfied curve. He had seen the surprise in her eyes. Admiration. He knew—he looked well in this.
Lightning flashed again outside, thunder rolling close. Su Fuying pulled herself together, calmly looked away, hung her towel aside, and reached for the hairdryer.
“Here,” said Song Bo.
She remembered then—she had heard its hum while lost in thought. He had already used it.
Alas, she reflected dryly. Even heroes fell for beauty. And it seemed women were equally undone by handsome men.
She reached to take it—only for Song Bo to catch her hand and draw her gently before him. “Let me.”
Warm air washed over her, accompanied by his distinctly clumsy touch. Su Fuying found herself laughing softly. The tender, charged atmosphere between them softened instantly.
Song Bo paused. His voice carried a quiet, tentative care. “Did I hurt you?”
“Not at all,” she said. “I simply imagined a General would know exactly how to do this.”
For once, a faint flush touched Song Bo’s cheeks. The hum of the dryer drowned out all other sound—neither heard the knock at the door, nor Yu Sui’s quiet inquiry from the hallway. He stood close, watching her earnestly.
“I have never done this for anyone before.”
Su Fuying felt his movements slow, careful and gentle as though she were something precious and easily broken. She looked up at him. “You need not be so overly cautious. At this pace—when shall we ever finish?”
Song Bo cleared his throat. “I shall go faster then. But tell me at once if it troubles you.”
Outside the door, Yu Sui stared wide-eyed. Good heavens. Had their General really moved that fast? That boldly? Then he paused—wait, what was that humming sound?
As Yu Sui stood puzzling, the door swung open. He jumped.
“G-General!”
Song Bo frowned at him. Yu Sui glanced at his General—impeccably dressed in a fine Western suit—and swallowed hard. What on earth had they been doing in there? And what were those words he had overheard? He had been imagining all manner of scandalous things…
Song Bo’s frown deepened. “What do you want?”
“I—came to invite you and Miss Su to dinner,” Yu Sui stammered.
Song Bo had come out intending to arrange exactly that. “Understood,” he said.
He stepped back inside and found Su Fuying still arranging her hair. “Come. Dinner is ready.”
Su Fuying twisted and braided her hair as she turned to reply. “Very well. Let me finish this and I shall be with you.”
Song Bo sat down upon the sofa, his fingers moving slightly as he watched her.
“I shall wait.”