Fu Jinglan’s body was scorching hot and hard.
In the moment of their embrace, his powerful muscles collided with Shen Lingxi’s soft, tender form.
Fu Jinglan’s waist and abdomen instantly tensed, as if a sticky, clingy cream cake had pressed against him.
Soft, sweet, smooth.
It made one want to lick, knead, and play with it.
Only by crushing and melting this cake would one feel satisfied.
When he spoke again, Fu Jinglan’s voice had already grown deep and hoarse.
“Shen Lingxi, let go. Don’t think that just because your knee is injured, I can’t touch you. I have plenty of ways.”
“Where does it hurt? I’ll find a doctor for you. Why are you crying?”
If crying could solve problems, he, Xiaosi, and Mu Suizhou would have left the fighting arena long ago.
Shen Lingxi seemed dazed and didn’t speak.
Her left hand was resting on the double snake tattoo on Fu Jinglan’s side.
Beneath her soft fingertips were raised scars, one after another.
Shen Lingxi shifted her fingertips, guessing from their length that most were knife wounds.
Fu Jinglan must have suffered many stabs back then.
Suddenly, an inexplicable surge of sorrow, compounded by her headache, overwhelmed Shen Lingxi. Losing control, she tightened her embrace around Fu Jinglan’s waist.
Her cheek pressed against his chest as she sobbed uncontrollably.
Like a severely wounded little rabbit, she whimpered, “Fu Jinglan, wu…”
Fu Jinglan felt a headache coming on.
“Shut up, Miss Shen.”
Weren’t you supposed to not cry or make a fuss?
Did his words scare her?
Fu Jinglan simply turned off the hairdryer and tossed it aside impatiently.
He gripped Shen Lingxi’s delicate, smooth shoulders with both hands.
“Shen Lingxi, I said I have plenty of ways, but I haven’t actually used them on you. Why are you crying nonstop?”
“If you keep crying, I’ll really f*ck you?”
“You like being f*cked while crying, is that it?”
Immediately after, Fu Jinglan sensed that something was wrong with Shen Lingxi.
“Shen Lingxi?!!”
The wind died down, and the snow stopped.
Second floor.
A team of doctors in white coats hurried into Shen Lingxi’s room.
In the living room, Fu Jinglan sat upright in the center of the sofa, buttoning his homewear one by one.
Before he could finish, the chief doctor pushed the door open and stepped out, his expression somewhat uneasy.
“Governor, may I ask… did you and Miss Shen engage in sexual activity in the bathroom? Or did you have Miss Shen perform any strenuous movements?”
Shen Lingxi had fallen unconscious in the bathroom.
The doctor’s preliminary assessment indicated that this was not ordinary unconsciousness.
Fu Jinglan fastened the last button, rested his arms on his knees, and tightly interlaced his fingers, restless.
He lifted his gaze to the doctor, his tone immediately accusatory. “What do you mean?”
Is this white-coated man a doctor or a police officer?
If he’s here to treat her, then treat her. Why ask such irrelevant questions?
Doesn’t he realize how personal this is?
Seeing the governor’s cold, intimidating expression, the doctor quickly explained:
“It’s like this, Governor.”
“The bathroom space is limited, and the steam is heavy. If engaged in intense activity, it could cause Miss Shen to experience accelerated oxygen deprivation, leading to unconsciousness.”
What nonsense.
Fu Jinglan reached for a cigar on the coffee table but found nothing.
“I didn’t touch her.”
The doctor found it hard to believe; the words almost sounded tinged with grievance.
Then, Fu Jinglan remembered something. “Does verbal stimulation count?”
He had only said he had plenty of ways.
And yet, without even a kiss, Shen Lingxi was scared into unconsciousness?
What kind of fragile niece did Shen Lanting raise?
Stop dumping her at his Lu Manor. Tomorrow morning, he’d pack her up, illness and all, and send her away!
“Verbal stimulation shouldn’t cause that.”
The doctor bowed respectfully to Fu Jinglan.
“Governor, I understand. Please rest, we will continue with further examinations for Miss Shen.”
The doctor turned to leave. As he was about to close the door to Shen Lingxi’s room, Fu Jinglan, without lifting his eyes, spoke in a low voice:
“Be thorough.”
“Yes, Governor.”
Two hours later.
Fu Jinglan was still sitting on the sofa in the living area of Shen Lingxi’s room.
He had changed his attire.
His slightly wavy hair was styled into a stern, slicked-back look.
He wore a black silk shirt, topped with a textured gray vest, and a charcoal-colored tie with a subtle pattern, meticulously knotted.
Below were crisp, high-quality black trousers.
Fu Jinglan casually bent his long legs, with a laptop placed on the coffee table in front of him, a video call in progress.
He was holding a meeting with local officials.
He had just finished listening to a report, his expression cold and unforgiving.
“Rejected. Next.”
“Yes, Governor, I will revise the content.”
In the video grid, every official sat upright, their expressions serious.
Each feared that their proposal would be the next to be rejected.
All except one—Tan Zongxing, Minister of the Northern Territory.
The Northern Territory, located at the northernmost part of Beizhou, was once the most unruly region.
Tan Zongxing had even arrogantly sought to annex Beizhou and establish an independent state.
It was only after Fu Jinglan took office that Tan Zongxing gradually relented.
At this moment, Tan Zongxing sipped tea with one hand and twirled prayer beads with the other, appearing relaxed and at ease.
He was a man who blended righteousness with roguishness, charm with principle.
Tan Zongxing smiled leisurely.
“Governor Fu, Minister Shang’s proposal being rejected is no surprise. Focusing solely on politics without addressing military matters is nothing but empty talk.”
Fu Jinglan crossed his legs, his posture imposing.
Yet, his gaze inadvertently drifted toward the door of Shen Lingxi’s room.
Again and again.
“What are your insights on the upcoming military reforms in Beizhou, Minister Tan?” Fu Jinglan asked.
Tan Zongxing slipped the prayer beads onto his wrist.
He replied with a smile, “I defer entirely to the Governor and can provide substantial financial support.”
Why did Tan Zongxing submit to Fu Jinglan?
He possessed an innate noble demeanor and the bearing of a leader.
At eighteen, he was publicly acknowledged by his father and sent abroad for studies.
At twenty-two, he returned to take charge of Beizhou, a region then unstable in both military and political affairs.
By twenty-five, he had stabilized Beizhou through sheer capability, officially succeeding his father as the youngest governor in history.
Thus, Tan Zongxing was genuinely convinced.
Moreover, Fu Jinglan’s appearance also won his admiration.
Tan Zongxing admired beautiful people.
When the time came to marry, he was determined to wed a peerless beauty.
The meeting continued, with every word Fu Jinglan spoke carrying weight. The stenographers behind the video call were overwhelmed, meticulously transcribing every detail without omission.
As he finished speaking once more, the door to Shen Lingxi’s room was quietly pushed open.
Fu Jinglan lifted his eyes slightly.
The attending physician paused at the doorway, hesitant to speak.
The Governor was busy, and he dared not interrupt, so he waited silently.
Fu Jinglan raised his hand and tugged lightly at his tie.
Addressing the screen, he said, “We’ll stop here for now. Other matters can be forwarded to my Chief of Staff, Mu Suizhou.”
Fu Jinglan then ended the video call and asked the doctor:
“What are Shen Lingxi’s examination results?”
Given permission, the doctor quickly approached.
“Governor, Miss Shen’s condition is somewhat complicated.”
Fu Jinglan suddenly felt stifled in the room and simply removed his tie, tossing it aside.
“Sit and explain. How is it complicated?”
“Is she not long for this world?”
The doctor glanced at Fu Jinglan, whose chilling aura was palpable.
Even without approaching, one could feel an instinctive sense of dread.
No wonder Miss Shen couldn’t handle it even on her first day here.
The doctor sat down on the sofa, deliberately keeping some distance from Fu Jinglan.
“Governor, Miss Shen has caught a cold and is suffering from an acute viral infection.”
Fu Jinglan felt he hadn’t heard the key point yet.
“Continue. Say everything at once. Don’t make me ask one question at a time.”
“Alright.” The doctor cleared his throat.
“Miss Shen underwent craniotomy surgery, almost ten years ago. The incision was meticulously treated and shows no visible traces now.”
Fu Jinglan rubbed the silver matchbox in his hand.
Listening carefully to every word, weighing each one.
“That surgery resulted in Miss Shen having no memories before the age of ten. She also developed secondary headaches and dizziness as a result.”
“Emotional fluctuations can trigger episodes, even leading to fainting.”
Like today.
After the doctor left.
Fu Jinglan remained silent for a moment, picked up his tie, and prepared to leave.
He had already turned to go, but then changed direction, heading straight toward Shen Lingxi’s room.