Faced with that suddenly alluring face, Shu Hua acted on instinct: she timidly stuck out her soft pink tongue and carefully licked his finger that was so close.
The touch was warm, wet, and utterly intimate.
At that moment—
“Sir, the ribs are going to be—”
Chen Yi’s voice came from the kitchen doorway, trailing off abruptly.
Shu Hua jumped with a start!
Almost instinctively, she slid off Pei Yanzhou’s lap, flattened herself on the sofa, pressed her head hard against his thigh, then quickly turned to bury her flushed face in the backrest, pretending to be lifeless.
Completely doomed!
Their flirtation had been seen!
The lady-like image Shu Hua had painstakingly maintained was utterly destroyed! She couldn’t face anyone!
Chen Yi hadn’t expected to witness the couple’s intimacy.
But her view was limited—she only saw the master holding the lady, seemingly speaking softly, and didn’t witness anything more explicit.
She secretly breathed a sigh of relief, even feeling a little pleased.
The madam had worried about their relationship… but this clearly wasn’t a problem! They were obviously deeply in love!
Pei Yanzhou’s expression remained calm, only the tips of his ears turning slightly red. He replied smoothly:
“Sweet and sour.”
Shu Hua loved sweet and sour flavor.
In just one short week, he had already figured out all the preferences of this little delicate woman in his arms.
“Alright, sir,” Chen Yi immediately retreated back to the kitchen.
Once she was gone, Shu Hua couldn’t calm herself at all.
A huge wave of shame and grievance surged up, and her eyes instantly reddened.
So humiliating! All his fault!
Pei Yanzhou felt the wetness against his leg and tensed.
She was crying?
He tried to pull her up: “Are you upset?”
Shu Hua forcefully shook off his hand, refusing to rise, burying her face even deeper.
“From Chen Yi’s angle, she didn’t see anything,” he tried to explain.
Shu Hua ignored him, silently protesting, tears flowing more fiercely.
The warm dampness seeped through the thin fabric of his trousers, burning against his skin.
Now Pei Yanzhou was genuinely anxious.
He had never comforted a crying woman before.
“I’m sorry,” he said stiffly. “It’s my fault.”
Apologizing made it worse—Shu Hua felt even more wronged, tears streaming like broken pearls, her shoulders trembling violently.
Helpless, Pei Yanzhou forcibly lifted her, setting her back on his lap.
Shu Hua turned her head, refusing to look at him, huge teardrops rolling down, splashing onto his shirt—and into his heart.
He furrowed his brows in pain.
Without saying more, he scooped her up horizontally, strode to the upstairs bedroom, and gently placed her on the bed.
Shu Hua immediately pulled the covers over herself, wrapping tightly from head to toe, continuing to cry.
Pei Yanzhou looked at the small bundle on the bed, silently sighing.
He first went to the bathroom to wash his hands carefully, then wet a towel with hot water and wrung it out.
Returning to the bed, he sat down and tried to pull back the covers.
“Be good, come out, let me wipe your face,” he said softly.
A muffled, grumbly refusal came from under the covers: “No… I don’t want to… I’m not talking to you…”
“It’s my fault, forgive me, okay?” he coaxed patiently.
The bundle shifted, still refusing to come out.
Pei Yanzhou thought for a moment and changed his approach: “Stop crying. If you keep crying, you’ll turn into a little kitten, and that wouldn’t be cute, right?”