Snow veiled the window.
Through the grand, brilliantly lit panes, the entire room was decorated in a palace style.
With the lights on, its opulence was fully revealed.
This was Shen Lingxi’s new room at the Deer Manor.
In the bathroom, the sound of water started and then stopped.
Shen Lingxi finished her bath, carefully wrapping herself in a towel.
Beneath the milky-white warm fleece, her two long legs were snow-white and slender, but her knees were alarmingly red, aching as if sprinkled with extra-spicy barbecue seasoning.
Shen Lingxi let out a dejected sigh.
“Where can I get some medicine?”
The manor was vast, but she had no one to turn to for help.
Earlier, Fu Jinglan had just carried her to the doorway of her room when Pangpang came crying and making a fuss.
He said Jiang Qingyan had suddenly developed a high fever, felt dizzy, and fell down the stairs.
Fu Jinglan was probably with Jiang Qingyan.
Mu Suizhou was energetic and a bit cocky, but he seemed easier to talk to than Fu Jinglan—however, he had left on some business.
Then there was the kind Aunt Hui.
Ever since she took the car to find Fu Jinglan, whether the car broke down or something else happened, she still hadn’t returned.
The bathroom was stuffy and humid with steam.
Shen Lingxi straightened her legs to avoid pulling at her wounds, managing to shuffle a few steps before pushing the door open and picking up the hairdryer to start drying her hair.
Less than a minute later.
A man’s sensual hand suddenly appeared, placing several medicine bottles on the vanity.
“Apply them yourself. I don’t like women with missing skin or flesh.”
“It ruins the aesthetic during D-waxing.”
Shen Lingxi was startled, instinctively turning her body toward the doorway.
In doing so, the hot blast from the hairdryer aimed straight at Fu Jinglan, blowing right into his face.
The air froze for three seconds.
Shen Lingxi nearly burst out laughing. “S-sorry.”
Having been out in the snow, Fu Jinglan had also taken a shower.
He stood with one hand in his pocket, leaning against the doorframe.
His hair, slightly wavy after washing, had just been blown into disarray by the hairdryer. The man who had finally settled down a bit now regained his cold, detached demeanor.
Fu Jinglan didn’t move an inch.
“Shen Lingxi, did you do that on purpose?”
Testing his limits?
Shen Lingxi hurriedly turned off the hairdryer.
“You were in Miss Jiang’s room, so I thought whoever spoke wasn’t human.”
Was Shen Lingxi insulting him?
But “Miss Jiang, Miss Jiang”—she said it so affectionately.
Had she already forgotten how that same Miss Jiang had punished her by making her kneel?
Fu Jinglan raised his arm, his long fingers running from the front to the back of his head.
The disheveled strands of hair lifted and then settled back neatly.
“Shen Lingxi, whether I’m in someone else’s room or someone else’s bed, it’s none of your business.”
Fu Jinglan wore a set of black silk loungewear, the fabric shimmering with dark vertical stripes under the light.
The bathroom was limited in space, and with his tall stature and long legs, his presence felt overwhelmingly oppressive.
In contrast, Shen Lingxi appeared so tiny and delicate.
Was the living father angry again?
Shen Lingxi instinctively took two steps back, only to bump against the vanity and be forced to stop.
The impact made her tremble slightly.
Only then did Shen Lingxi cautiously cover her chest.
Then, tilting her head and blinking, she carefully studied Fu Jinglan’s face.
“Are you angry? I’m sorry. I’ll be good from now on—no crying, no fussing, and no asking.”
Even if Fu Jinglan died in some woman’s bed, she wouldn’t ask.
Fu Jinglan frowned. “‘You’? Shen Lingxi, do I seem very old to you?”
What was wrong with this troublemaker now?
Finding fault everywhere.
Shen Lingxi had to quickly think of a solution.
Got it.
“No, I use ‘you’ because ‘you’ are in my ‘heart.'”
The twenty-year-old girl’s voice was clear and sweet.
It carried a tone of appeasement and comfort, soft and gentle.
Fu Jinglan seemed to genuinely stop being angry.
He lowered his cold gaze, looking at Shen Lingxi’s tightly covered hands.
He couldn’t see the scenery beneath his hand, but beyond his palm, her skin was fair and tender with a hint of pink, dotted here and there with glistening droplets of water.
A red string, pink wax.
Fu Jinglan suddenly felt an uncomfortable tightness in his throat.
Tense, feverish, parched.
He wanted a glass of ice-cold wine.
Fu Jinglan’s Adam’s apple involuntarily bobbed. “Shen Lingxi, aren’t you going to apply the medicine? Do you want me to do it for you?”
“Oh, right, I’ll do it now.”
Shen Lingxi turned to look at the several bottles of medicine.
Anti-inflammatory, pain relief, scar removal, wound healing.
She first took out the pain relief powder, bending over deeply to gently sprinkle it onto her knee.
Yet she still winced sharply from the pain.
From time to time, when she couldn’t bear it, she let out soft whimpers.
Delicate and fragile.
Her long hair was still damp, cascading down her shoulders.
Water droplets trickled from the ends of her hair, drip, drip-drip…
Watching the curled figure before him, Fu Jinglan was momentarily reminded of Xiaosi all grown up.
Once, while presenting flowers, Xiaosi had slipped on champagne-soaked steps, the little girl tumbling down and scraping both knees and arms.
After finishing his night shift, Fu Jinglan had immediately brought medicine to Xiaosi.
Back then, she had just washed her hair too.
The way she applied the medicine was exactly like Shen Lingxi.
Not even bothering to find a place to sit, she simply bent over and applied it.
Probably because the pain was unbearable, she couldn’t wait.
After applying it, she busied herself cooking a bowl of hot noodle soup for her big brother. “Brother, this is for you.”
It was awful.
Every time Xiaosi cooked noodles, Fu Jinglan forced himself to finish every bite.
Then he would praise her, “Xiaosi is amazing”…
Shen Lingxi finally finished applying medicine to her left knee, her flesh trembling with pain.
Suddenly, her head felt heavy, dizzy and aching.
Shen Lingxi endured it again and again.
Finally, she lifted her face, looking up at the tall man standing before her.
Her eyes brimmed with tears, shimmering and about to overflow.
“It hurts so much, Fu Jinglan.”
“My head hurts, and my knees hurt too.”
“I miss my parents and Grandpa so much.”
Her voice sounded as if she had suffered countless grievances.
After speaking, Shen Lingxi buried her head deeply again, continuing to apply medicine to her right knee.
Tears and water droplets fell together, pattering onto the floor tiles.
Only after the words had left her mouth, even calling him by his full name, did Shen Lingxi realize she shouldn’t have.
Fu Jinglan had said he didn’t like unfamiliar people calling him by his name.
But Shen Lingxi had no one else to confide her pain to; everyone had left her.
Everyone.
Just then, “Whoosh, whoosh, whoosh~”
The sound of a hairdryer suddenly rang out above Shen Lingxi’s head.
Immediately after, a stream of warm air blew onto her hair, accompanied by a long, clean man’s hand.
Fu Jinglan smoothed Shen Lingxi’s long hair with one hand while controlling the hairdryer with the other.
His face was cold. “Little white rabbit, you’re annoying.”
“You’ve splashed water from your hair all over my slippers.”
Bathed in the gentle breeze and warmth of the hairdryer, Shen Lingxi couldn’t hold back, her back shaking with sobs.
All the carefully buried emotions surged to her heart at once.
Her family ruined, her uncle gone, living under someone else’s roof, and now Jiang Qingyan had appeared. She wouldn’t be able to leave Lu Manor until the snow fell next winter.
Shen Lingxi was a clever little thing who would rather drain others than torment herself.
For example, if she failed at cooking, she would punish all the pots, pans, and seasoning bottles by making them stand upside down in reflection.
She would never blame her own cooking skills.
But now, she had to appease Fu Jinglan, afraid he would get angry, afraid he would whip her.
Not just whip her, but make her count the strokes herself.
Moreover, Shen Lingxi also hated fighting and arguing with Jiang Qingyan.
Finally finishing her right knee, Shen Lingxi sniffled, her eyes red as she straightened up.
She hadn’t forgotten to apologize, “I’m sorry, Governor, I shouldn’t have called you by your name directly.”
Looking at those watery red eyes, Fu Jinglan’s gaze lost half its coldness.
“Call me whatever you want, at least you didn’t do it outside in front of others.”
If even the big bad wolf could be called that, what did Fu Jinglan matter?
Names were meant to be called anyway.
As long as she remembered to call him Governor outside, it was fine.
But then Fu Jinglan thought again—something wasn’t right. Was he being too lenient with this newcomer?
Did crying give her the right?
He hated it most when women cried and whined.
So, Fu Jinglan changed his tone, “Otherwise, should I make it up to you with a bullet?”
Shen Lingxi’s shoulders trembled with sobs, “That won’t be necessary.”
Fu Jinglan couldn’t be bothered to deal with Shen Lingxi any longer.
The hairdryer kept running.
Water splashed from Shen Lingxi’s long hair, landing all over Fu Jinglan’s loungewear.
He absolutely hated the feeling of wet clothes sticking to his skin.
It reminded him too much of finishing a fight, clothes soaked with sweat and sticky blood.
Fu Jinglan still remembered that smell to this day.
Absolutely awful.
He pulled off his shirt with one hand and tossed it carelessly onto the vanity.
His upper body was now naturally exposed.
Broad shoulders and a narrow waist—perfectly proportioned.
His skin was cold and pale, yet his chest muscles, abs, and v-line were deeply defined, mysteriously disappearing into the low-slung black loungewear pants.
The twin snake tattoo on his waist remained vivid.
The black snake imposing, the red snake vibrant.
Entwined together, like an endless, inescapable fate.
Shen Lingxi stole a glance at Fu Jinglan, then continued sobbing, her shoulders shaking.
Fu Jinglan lowered his gaze, frowning as he looked down at the person before him.
“Stop crying, Shen Lingxi. You’re really annoying me.”
Shen Lingxi immediately pouted, “I won’t cry anymore, Governor.”
She reached out to take the hairdryer from Fu Jinglan’s hand.
Still whimpering, she said, “I can do it myself.”
But with that tugging motion, Shen Lingxi’s knee throbbed with pain.
Her leg gave way, and she stumbled, wrapping her arms around Fu Jinglan’s bare body.