Fu Yanqin frowned as he looked at the woman before him, whose heavy makeup was somewhat comical.
Tong Xi realized she had been spacing out and hurriedly lowered her head.
A strand of hair slipped down, covering half her face. The exposed nape of her neck was so slender it seemed it might snap with the slightest force.
Fu Yanqin’s gaze paused for a moment, then shifted away. He walked to the sofa in the center of the room and sat down:
“Pour me a glass of cold water.”
Tong Xi responded softly with her head down, then turned to reach for a glass in the cabinet.
After pouring the water, she carried the glass over and handed it to Fu Yanqin.
But as he raised his hand to take it, her knuckles happened to bump against the web of his thumb. The entire glass wobbled, and most of the water splashed onto her own front.
The water soaked through the thin fabric of her shirt.
Tong Xi fumbled to wipe it off. In the instant she lowered her head, the collar of her shirt hung loosely,
unobstructed in Fu Yanqin’s line of sight.
Fu Yanqin’s breathing deepened a notch.
He was momentarily stunned, then a nameless anger surged up from his chest.
That heat he had just suppressed was churning again.
Toward a strange wet nurse—this filled him with an absurd disgust.
He averted his eyes, his tone tinged with disdain:
“Did you do that on purpose?”
Tong Xi froze, then looked up:
“Mr. Fu, I didn’t…”
Fu Yanqin let out a scoff, his pupils cold and deep.
“Dressed like that, wandering around the break room at midnight, splashing water all over yourself, and then making sure to touch my hand when you hand something over—you think I can’t see what you’re up to? Delusional.”
Fu Yanqin had grown up in circles of wealth and fame, and he had seen plenty of women who racked their brains trying to climb the ladder.
Those girls in high society—for money, there was no trick they wouldn’t use.
Some deliberately flaunted their flawless features and impressive figures. Others, when that failed, took a different approach—playing the victim to garner sympathy and attention.
He assumed Tong Xi was that kind of person, trying to seduce him.
Tong Xi set the glass back on the counter and frowned:
“I really wasn’t, Mr. Fu. You’re reading too much into it.”
With that, she turned and walked away.
Fu Yanqin sat on the sofa without moving, not expecting her to just leave.
He stared down at himself for a few seconds, then closed his eyes, his Adam’s apple bobbing once.
…
Even after entering the master bedroom, Fu Yanqin was still thinking about that wet nurse. His impression of her was vague,
because she always avoided his gaze.
The only thing he remembered vividly was her…
Fu Yanqin couldn’t help but recall the scene of catching her feeding her son that day.
Unconsciously, the memory of what had unexpectedly happened at the hotel suddenly surfaced in Fu Yanqin’s mind.
…
In mid-March, spring was at its peak in the Fu residence garden. Magnolia flowers bloomed in dense clusters, and occasionally a few petals were swept by the wind onto the canopy of the baby stroller.
Tong Xi sat on a stone bench holding Fu Jingxi. The little one had eaten his fill and was clutching one of her fingers, babbling happily.
“The young master really has a connection with the girl.” Sister Zhou smiled nearby. “We went through several wet nurses before. The moment he smelled them, he’d cry. But when you hold him, he’s perfectly quiet.”
Tong Xi lowered her head and gently nuzzled her forehead against her son’s soft baby hair. She didn’t respond.
Just then, footsteps came from around the corner of the garden.
Tong Xi looked up and saw Old Madam Fu walking in front, with Fu Yanqin following half a step behind.
He was wearing a light gray thin shirt today. His demeanor was more relaxed than that night in the break room, but when his gaze landed on her, it still carried a scrutinizing chill.
“Is Jingxi being good?”
The old madam leaned in, reaching out to hold her grandson.
Fu Jingxi had been playing happily when he was suddenly gathered up by unfamiliar arms. His little face scrunched up, his mouth puckered, and he burst into loud cries, his small arms and legs flailing as he desperately burrowed into Tong Xi’s embrace.
The old madam was briefly stunned, then let out an “Aiyo” and said in a tone that was half genuine, half feigned complaint:
“Fine, fine. Now that you have a wet nurse, you don’t want your grandmother anymore? You little ingrate.”
Tong Xi quickly took the child back, gently patting his back to soothe him, and said with a soft laugh:
“Please don’t take it to heart, Old Madam. The young master is still a bit shy around strangers.”
Though she spoke, she didn’t dare let her gaze drift to the side.
Old Madam Fu sat down on the stone bench, her hands resting on her knees, and the conversation shifted to Fu Yanqin:
“Jingxi is already a full month old, and you, as his father, aren’t anxious? Who exactly is the child’s birth mother? There’s still no word to this day?”
Fu Yanqin didn’t respond, only lowering his eyes to watch the magnolia petals drifting down onto the stone table.
“If you truly can’t find her, then listen to me. The second young lady of the Lin family seems quite suitable—a match in status, and she’s dignified…”
The old madam looked at her grandson, then at Fu Yanqin.
“Don’t blame me for being nosy. The young women who come and go in this household—what intentions don’t they have?
Not long ago, there was even a young lady from a prestigious family who, instead of being a proper miss, disguised herself as a wet nurse to sneak in. In the end, she was exposed and thrown out. How degrading.”
At these words, Tong Xi’s back suddenly went rigid.
She held Fu Jingxi, her heartbeat pounding against her ribcage like a drum.
Just then, Fu Jingxi in her arms suddenly began to squirm restlessly, his little head nuzzling against her chest, his small mouth opening and closing as he made vague “ah ah” sounds—a signal that he was hungry.
The young master’s soft, milky movements instantly plunged Tong Xi into embarrassment. Everyone’s gaze turned to land squarely on her.
In just a few breaths’ time, the fabric over her chest had quietly grown damp.
Tong Xi wished she could bury her entire face in the top of Fu Jingxi’s head, trying to hide this sudden humiliation.
She hurriedly lifted the baby higher in her arms, using his small body to shield herself completely, covering that patch of dampness.
She didn’t dare look up at anyone, especially not the man whose heavy gaze was fixed on her:
“The young master seems to be hungry.”
The old madam glanced down and immediately waved her hand:
“Then hurry and take him inside to feed him. Don’t let my precious grandson go hungry.”
Tong Xi carried Fu Jingxi quickly toward the house, the faint, lingering gaze behind her pinned to her spine the entire way, burning her neck red.
The nursery was quiet and still.
Fu Jingxi nursed, his little brow gradually smoothing out, his eyes squinting in contentment.
Tong Xi looked down at him, but her heart was in turmoil.
The second young lady of the Lin family.
A match in status, dignified and proper.
Would he go?
Or… would he go looking for Fu Jingxi’s birth mother—for her?
But if he truly went to see that second young lady of the Lin family…
Then everyone would be happy. Her only wish was that the wife he eventually married would treat Fu Jingxi as her own.
…
The nursery door was left ajar. Tong Xi gently placed the sleeping Fu Jingxi into the cradle.
When she straightened up, the damp fabric over her chest clung to her skin, a chill seeping in thread by thread.
She glanced down, her ears burning, and pulled the door open, walking quickly toward her room.
As she rounded the corner, she was focused only on hurrying with her head down, and ran headfirst into a warm wall.
A cold, hard presence hit her in the face. She staggered back half a step, and the moment she looked up, she met Fu Yanqin’s downcast gaze.
A faint scent of milk drifted from her collar, lingering indistinctly between them.
Fu Yanqin’s gaze unconsciously dropped an inch. Beneath that soaked fabric, a curve was faintly visible.
His throat moved slightly, then he averted his eyes, his voice deep and cold:
“Running around so recklessly—what are you doing?”
Tong Xi was startled to have bumped into him, but quickly composed herself:
“I want to go back to my room and change clothes.”
Fu Yanqin didn’t move. Only after two breaths did he shift half a step to the side.
Tong Xi squeezed sideways past him between him and the wall. When her shoulder brushed against his chest, that milky scent grew one degree stronger.
Behind her, the door closed softly. Fu Yanqin stood in place, eyes lowered, no one knew what he was thinking.