Tangled up by a sticky-sweet cake.
Fu Jinglan lowered his head slightly, glancing down at the top of the dark, silk-like hair before him.
“Shen Lingxi, do you have some kind of split personality?”
One moment throwing a little tantrum, the next turning into a sweetheart.
Shen Lingxi pressed her forehead against Fu Jinglan’s chest, nuzzling and rubbing, softly cooing.
“Not at all. It’s just that d-^^y smells so good, so captivating. I could smell it from far away.”
Fu Jinglan chuckled softly under his breath—cunning as ever.
“Let go, Shen Lingxi. I need to walk.”
Shen Lingxi finally lifted her face, her clear, bright eyes looking at Fu Jinglan with a pitiful expression.
“Alright then.”
Shen Lingxi released her arms, no longer hugging Fu Jinglan. “But we can still walk together.”
She turned her back, grabbed Fu Jinglan’s hands, and wrapped them around her own waist.
Snuggling into his warm embrace, she said, “Ready, go.”
Fu Jinglan still wore a sour expression, only one arm encircling Shen Lingxi’s waist.
“Don’t cry if you fall.”
“I won’t.”
As Fu Jinglan took his first step, Shen Lingxi placed her left foot on top of his.
On the second step, her right foot followed.
Their figures reflected in the floor-to-ceiling window, pressed tightly together, a bit clumsy, step by step toward the sofa.
Shen Lingxi, holding onto Fu Jinglan’s wrist, began to giggle.
“This is so fun.”
“I want to play like this every day, okay? The handsomest, youngest governor of Beizhou?”
After Shen Lingxi’s head surgery at age ten, her legs were unsteady and her body weak. Her uncle, Shen Lanting, used to help her walk and do rehabilitation like this.
Fu Jinglan looked at the small figure in his arms and spoke after two seconds.
“I don’t have time to repeat the same thing with you.”
Perhaps because he had just showered, his breath was warm and damp, carrying a faint scent that brushed against Shen Lingxi’s ear. “Of course, except for love.”
Fu Jinglan’s steps didn’t stop, but Shen Lingxi’s ears tingled.
She pretended not to hear what he said.
“Governor Fu, when I was doing rehabilitation before, I used to walk with my arms and legs out of sync. Let me demonstrate for you.”
Fu Jinglan watched the little rabbit moving clumsily.
“Shen Lingxi, can’t you be a bit more dignified?”
Shen Lingxi was still giggling, half-turning her face to look at Fu Jinglan. “How can I be dignified? Should I change into a cheongsam to demonstrate for d-^^y?”
In that moment, she forgot whether she was truly happy or just trying to please Fu Jinglan.
Fu Jinglan’s other arm naturally wrapped around Shen Lingxi’s chest.
Holding the sweet-smelling little rabbit tighter, more securely.
“Don’t be cheeky. Walk properly.”
As they neared the sofa, Fu Jinglan released Shen Lingxi, turned, and sat down, his long legs naturally spread apart.
He tilted his chin downward.
“Undo it. Apply the medicine.”
Shen Lingxi instantly stopped laughing.
Still not healed?
She complied, but the situation wasn’t that bad—only a small bite mark remained.
Shen Lingxi, being mischievous, tapped it with her fingertip. “Respected patient, it’s almost healed. It’s already scabbed over.”
Fu Jinglan felt a shiver run down his spine.
“It still hurts.”
Keeping his expression steady, he leisurely pulled a stick of agarwood from the incense box, lit it, then deftly passed the flame between his thumb and forefinger.
The flame extinguished, leaving only a glowing red tip.
Fu Jinglan inserted the agarwood into the incense holder without even lifting his eyelids.
“It hurts in the morning, and it hurts when I think of women.”
Is that something you can say out loud?
Shen Lingxi stammered, “Oh, well, my brother’s symptoms are indeed quite… symptomatic.”
Fu Jinglan: “Speak properly.”
The scent of sandalwood was sweet, cool, and faintly drifting into the air.
Yet at a time like this, it only made the atmosphere even more ambiguous.
Shen Lingxi opened the ointment, her eyes darting away as she glanced at Fu Jinglan.
Better to change the subject and lighten the mood. “Governor, how big are you?”
Fu Jinglan was somewhat drowsy, having barely slept for nearly 48 hours.
He closed his eyes slightly. “Not big, in my twenties.”
Shen Lingxi wasn’t pleased with that answer.
“Hmph, I meant your age.”
Fu Jinglan chuckled softly and tapped Shen Lingxi’s head again. “That’s exactly what I answered. Twenty-five is in my twenties. What did you think I meant?”
Such a sly wolf.
Shen Lingxi squeezed out more ointment and began dabbing it on carefully.
This time, it was Fu Jinglan’s turn to be displeased.
He let out a low, suppressed groan, holding back with great effort.
“Damn it!”
“Shen Lingxi, watch where you’re applying it. Don’t just smear it around!”
Shen Lingxi felt wronged, tilting her little face up to meet Fu Jinglan’s gaze defiantly.
Her tone was a mix of resentment and scolding.
“Whose fault is it?”
“If you didn’t keep moving, it wouldn’t hurt so much.”
A black leather belt lay on the sofa. Fu Jinglan picked it up unhurriedly, folding it in half in his palm—the threat it posed was unmistakable.
Shen Lingxi pretended nothing had happened, but her face was already lowered.
“Governor, you really know how to grow. It’s kind of cute, actually.”
Fu Jinglan remained silent, tapping the belt rhythmically against his palm.
As if counting down.
When the tension reached its peak, on the verge of snapping, he spoke. “Shen Lingxi, it’s fine to have your nails done, but next time, don’t make them so long and sharp.”
“Okay.”
Once the ointment was applied, Shen Lingxi put it away and even thoughtfully blew on the area for Fu Jinglan.
Then, cheerfully, she sat down beside the man, spreading her fingers to show him her nails.
Her eyes were full of anticipation. “Brother, setting aside the length, do they look nice?”
She had asked Song Zhili to redo them for her that afternoon.
Fu Jinglan patiently lowered his gaze.
Her slender, pale fingers had a faint pink hue, adorned with diamonds and bows on the nails.
A bit flashy, but fitting for a young girl’s taste.
“Not bad,” Fu Jinglan said flatly.
At this point, Shen Lingxi felt a bit like she was “getting ahead of herself,” especially since Fu Jinglan had placed the black belt back on the sofa.
Hehe~
But joy often turns to sorrow. Fu Jinglan’s expression suddenly turned stern and terrifying.
His voice was laced with danger.
“Shen Lingxi, stand in front of me.”
Shen Lingxi’s heart pounded loudly. She couldn’t figure out why but obediently stood up, positioning herself between Fu Jinglan’s knees.
Her hands clasped behind her back, a mix of fear and defiance.
Though seated, Fu Jinglan’s presence towered over Shen Lingxi.
His sharp eyes stared coldly at the young girl before him.
“Shen Lingxi, answer me. Whose child is the demon pill?”
The sky was falling.
Shen Lingxi was too flustered to think of a clever response.
Fu Jinglan counted to five patiently, but Shen Lingxi remained silent.
He leaned forward slightly. “Smack!”
“Speak, Shen Lingxi.”
In an instant, a shiver ran up Shen Lingxi’s spine from bottom to top. Half her body stiffened in tension.
The little rabbit who had been struck stared at Fu Jinglan’s palm, her eyes instantly reddening, but her mouth remained stubborn.
“I won’t say!”
As for the demon pill, hadn’t Fu Jinglan already heard everything? Why force her to repeat the insult?
Fu Jinglan watched Shen Lingxi’s restrained yet defiant expression.
His hand rested on her lower back, gently rubbing it, as if unsure whether he had punished her enough.
Do you want to slap me with iodine-soaked hands, disinfecting as you hit?
Fu Jinglan stroked while speaking, “Very good, Shen Lingxi.”
Shen Lingxi stubbornly turned her face to the side, refusing to meet Fu Jinglan’s gaze.
“I’m not good, but are you any better?”
“You’ve kept that longevity lock from your childhood sweetheart by your side for ten years, unable to forget her. Then why don’t you go find her!”
Tears still fell uncontrollably, and Shen Lingxi’s voice gradually weakened.
“Why keep me by your side, making me act like an obedient and well-behaved clown?”
It was too difficult for her to bear.
The air fell into a deathly silence that lasted ten minutes.
One sat, the other stood, neither paying attention to the other.
Finally, it was Fu Jinglan who spoke first. When he opened his mouth again, his voice was already hoarse.
Like the night—lonely, cold, and desolate.
“Shen Lingxi, from now on, you don’t have to be obedient or well-behaved.”
After a brief pause, “Xiaosi was a very cute child who desperately wanted to live, but she can’t be found anymore. She died at the age of ten.”
Shen Lingxi’s shoulders began to tremble.
From weak to strong.
Why had she argued with Fu Jinglan, and why had it brought up such a pitiful child?
Shen Lingxi raised her wrist and wiped her eyes a few times with the back of her hand.
Only then did she turn her face back, still huffing with anger, “You… have you eaten dinner yet? Do you want a bowl of hot noodle soup?”
…
Fu Jinglan didn’t know how other girls’ noodles tasted.
But Xiaosi’s cooking was terrible.
Including the bowl placed in front of him now.
“Is it good? My cooking skills are pretty decent, right?” Shen Lingxi’s eyes were still tinged with pink, but her expression was already lively, as if she had never cried.
She was someone whose emotions came and went quickly.
Fu Jinglan sat with his back to the floor-to-ceiling window, the nightscape behind him vibrant and dazzling.
He had changed into a black bathrobe and was sitting upright, eating a bowl of hot noodle soup.
“How good could something made by a clown taste?”