She bit her lip, hesitated for a moment, then lowered her voice and spoke through the screen:
“Mr. Fu… could you—could you step out for a bit?”
Fu Yanqin’s movements paused almost imperceptibly.
He was silent for two seconds, his throat moving in a motion so slight it was nearly undetectable. Then he set down the water bottle, said nothing, turned, pushed the door open, and walked out of the lounge, pulling the door shut behind him.
Behind the screen, Tong Xi let out a long breath, burying her entire face in her son’s downy head, her heart pounding like a drum.
She was truly insane.
For a moment just now, she had almost thought Fu Yanqin wasn’t going to leave.
He had stood there drinking water, his gaze landing nowhere in particular, and that silent pressure had made her nearly forget how to breathe.
Fu Jingxi was completely oblivious to his mother’s panic, nursing until his little face was flushed red, his small hand clutching Tong Xi’s collar, letting out satisfied little hums from time to time.
Tong Xi looked down at her son’s profile, and her racing heart gradually settled.
About twenty minutes later, Fu Jingxi had eaten his fill and let out a loud milky burp, a trace of milk still at the corner of his mouth.
Tong Xi carefully wiped his mouth with a handkerchief, straightened her clothes, and wrapped him back into his swaddling cloth.
She carried the baby to the door, hesitated, then reached out and pulled it open a crack.
Outside was empty.
The corridor was quiet—Fu Yanqin was not at the door, nor was there any sign of him at the end of the hallway.
Tong Xi breathed a sigh of relief and carried her son toward the main hall.
As she passed the corner near the staircase, she caught a glimpse from the corner of her eye of a gray figure standing by the window. Fu Yanqin had his back to her, talking on the phone, the sunlight on his shoulders turning him into a silent silhouette.
She didn’t look twice, quickly walking out.
On the lawn, Fu Xianshu had already come back from the shooting range and was crouching by the lake, teasing the ducks in the water with a willow branch. When she saw Tong Xi approaching from afar with Fu Jingxi in her arms, she immediately tossed the branch aside and ran over:
“Hey, where did you go? I couldn’t find you for the longest time!”
“The little young master was hungry. I went to find a place over there to feed him.”
“Oh oh oh, thanks for your hard work!”
Fu Xianshu leaned in and pinched Fu Jingxi’s little cheek. “Aiya, it’s really different when they’re full. Look at that satisfied little expression—exactly like his dad.”
Tong Xi couldn’t help but curve her lips into a smile.
The wind swept across the lawn, and Fu Jingxi squinted in the warm sunlight, letting out a tiny yawn.
Tong Xi gently patted his back, her gaze inadvertently sweeping toward the main building.
Behind one of the second-floor windows, someone seemed to be standing there.
The glass reflection was too bright—she couldn’t see clearly.
Tong Xi withdrew her gaze, lowered her head to nuzzle her son’s soft forehead, and carried him deeper onto the lawn.
Tong Xi held Fu Jingxi and stayed on the lawn with Fu Xianshu for another half hour or so.
The afternoon sun was warm and gentle, the lake surface shimmering with flecks of gold, and the air carried the particular fragrance of grass heated by the sun.
Fu Jingxi slept soundly after his meal, his little face buried in the swaddling cloth, only a plump cheek and that goose-yellow flowered hat visible. Occasionally he smacked his lips in his dreams, like a satisfied little beast.
Fu Xianshu had played enough and finally stretched, saying it was time to head back.
The group walked toward the parking lot.
Fu Yulang and Yang Zhongao walked ahead, still chatting about the shots they’d missed at the shooting range. Fu Xianshu bounced along beside them, chiming in from time to time.
Tong Xi carried her son at the very back, keeping her steps as light as possible, not wanting to jostle the child awake.
Just as they neared the parking lot, Uncle Fu appeared out of nowhere.
He wore that dark gray Chinese-style jacket, his hair combed without a single strand out of place, and he came up to greet them with a beaming smile.
“Miss, Second Young Master, Young Master Yang.”
He greeted them one by one, then his gaze fell on Fu Jingxi in Tong Xi’s arms, and the smile on his face deepened a few degrees.
He took two steps closer, bent slightly at the waist, and lowered his voice:
“The little young master is asleep?”
Tong Xi nodded. “Mm, he just fell asleep not long ago.”
Uncle Fu straightened up and turned to Fu Xianshu, his tone respectful yet kind:
“Miss, the master has given instructions for the little young master to ride in his car. I drive steadily—the child won’t be jostled on the way.”
Fu Xianshu was taken aback. “My brother said that?”
“Yes.”
Uncle Fu nodded with a smile.
“The master specifically instructed it. He said the road from the club back into the city is under construction—full of potholes. The nanny van has a high chassis and tends to sway, so he wants the little young master to ride in his car.”
Fu Xianshu blinked, glanced at Tong Xi with some surprise, then turned to look at Fu Yanqin’s black Maybach, which had already started up.
The car sat quietly at the very front of the motorcade, its windows tinted dark, making it impossible to see inside.
She muttered, “My brother’s actually quite thoughtful.”
Then she nodded readily.
“Alright then, let Jingxi ride in your car. Miss Xi, let’s go.”
Tong Xi was about to respond when Uncle Fu spoke first, still smiling:
“Miss, the master’s meaning is for the little young master to ride in his car, and for Miss Xi to ride in that car as well.”
“Huh?” Fu Xianshu was genuinely surprised now. “Why?”
The smile on Uncle Fu’s face didn’t waver in the slightest, and his tone remained perfectly amiable:
“The master said Miss Xi is the one who looks after the little young master. If the little young master wakes up along the way and starts crying, she’s the one who can soothe him. Anyone else probably wouldn’t be able to.”
That was said without leaving the slightest opening.
Fu Xianshu thought about it and found it quite reasonable.
Fu Jingxi had always been cared for by Tong Xi—she was the one who slept beside him at night. Anyone else really might not be able to soothe him.
She nodded. “Alright then, Miss Xi, go with Uncle Fu.”
But Tong Xi felt something was off.
She glanced toward the black Maybach Pullman at the very front of the motorcade.
The doors were shut tight, the engine already running, emitting a low, steady hum.
She couldn’t see who was inside, but that invisible sense of pressure could be felt even from half a parking lot away.
She pressed her lips together and said quietly to Uncle Fu:
“Uncle Fu, the little young master and I will just ride in Miss Fu’s car. No need to trouble Mr. Fu… Besides, the little young master is asleep—he won’t cause any fuss.”
Uncle Fu still wore that smiling expression, leaning in slightly, his voice dropping even lower, carrying the patience and smoothness of an old-school butler:
“Miss Xi, it’s not this old man making a fuss over nothing. It really is the master’s wish. The master said that with the little young master’s nurse along, if anything comes up on the road, it’ll be easier to handle. If you don’t go, this old bag of bones won’t have an easy time reporting back.”
He paused, then added, his tone tinged with a hint of difficulty:
“Miss Xi, please don’t make things hard for a servant like me. When the master gives an order, how would I dare cut corners?”
The words of refusal were on the tip of Tong Xi’s tongue, and she swallowed them back down.
Uncle Fu had been the housekeeper of the Fu family for over a decade. In both speech and conduct, he had always been measured, never the type to say anything that would leave someone with no way to back down.
But the way he’d spoken today made it abundantly clear—he was dead set on getting her into that car.
If she refused again, she’d truly be shaming herself by rejecting his kindness.
Tong Xi lowered her eyes, her voice dropping a few degrees:
“…Then I’ll have to trouble you, Uncle Fu.”
“No trouble at all, no trouble at all.”
The smile lines on Uncle Fu’s face deepened. He turned sideways and made a “please” gesture, guiding Tong Xi toward the front of the motorcade.
“This way, please, Miss Xi.”
Fu Xianshu called out from behind:
“Sister Xi, we’ll head off first then—see you at home!”
Then she ducked into the nanny van. The door shut, the engine started, and it pulled out of the parking lot ahead of them.
Tong Xi held Fu Jingxi in her arms and followed Uncle Fu, step by step, toward the black Maybach.
The car was long—noticeably longer than an ordinary sedan. Its body lines were sleek yet cold and hard. The black paint shimmered with a deep, subdued luster under the afternoon sun, like a crouching beast.
Uncle Fu quickly circled around to the rear door and pulled it open.
A crisp, clear scent drifted out from the cabin. It was a very faint woody note, mixed with a barely perceptible chill—exactly the same as the scent that clung to Fu Yanqin.
Tong Xi stood before the car door, unable to make her feet move forward.
The cabin was spacious. The back row had two independent seats separated by a wide central armrest, which was embedded with a control panel and cup holders.
At this moment, Fu Yanqin sat on the far side, his profile facing the car door. He held a tablet in his hand, the glow of the screen reflected in his eyes, throwing his cold, stern features into even sharper relief.
He tilted his head slightly, lifting his gaze from the tablet. It landed on Tong Xi standing at the car door.