Lu Yanchen didn’t answer her.
His voice was neither cold nor indifferent.
“Turn around, please. I need to get dressed.”
Wen Qiao felt a bit deflated at his words.
She pouted and turned her back.
Muttering under her breath, she thought:
Could it be that he had been betrayed by a woman before, which is why he locked his heart?
She, a delicate beauty, had tried every tactic—coaxing, begging, sweet-talking, even lowering herself to plead for him to start dating.
And it still wasn’t enough.
He was way too hard to handle.
A man who could act so aloof in front of her—he was the first she had ever met.
If it were someone else in the past, Wen Qiao wouldn’t have cared at all.
But he was the male lead.
She still had to cling to him, like a salted fish lying in victory.
Otherwise, she would have already thrown a tantrum.
Only when the rustling behind her stopped did Wen Qiao turn back around.
It was only then she realized something.
Wait a minute—why was she being so obedient, turning around just because he asked?
Even if she stared at him, what difference would it make?
It’s not like she hadn’t seen him before—she had taken his clothes off herself.
As soon as she turned, Lu Yanchen was right behind her.
Their eyes met.
Wen Qiao finally noticed just how tall he was.
The collar of his green military uniform pressed down two bright red insignias, the disciplinary button locked at his throat.
Sharp creases jutted from the shoulder seams, and the belt around his waist was tightened to perfection, its brass buckle gleaming.
The crease in his trousers was razor-straight, the hems tucked neatly into his high boots without a single fold or bunch.
It was as if these legs were made for marching.
When he had been sitting earlier, she had only glimpsed a fraction of his aura.
Now that he was standing, he looked like a resting leopard suddenly awakened.
The olive-green uniform now revealed all its sharpness and authority.
From her eye level, her gaze landed directly on his striking Adam’s apple.
This man was at least 185 cm tall.
His looks, body, abilities, even his background—all top-notch.
He truly had the right to be proud.
Lu Yanchen stared at the woman in front of him.
Tall, graceful, beautiful—her figure supple and elegant.
Her eyes were especially captivating, like black grapes kissed with dew, sparkling and vivid.
She wore a green dress—not a deep jade, but the soft, fresh hue of early spring leaves.
Like a new leaf in a dull room, carrying the scent of rain-washed grass.
A delicate silver chain wrapped around her fair wrist, light as moonlight, with a few small natural jade stones embedded in it, green and translucent like a summer lake.
This vibrant green brought a refreshing brightness to the eyes and cleared the heart.
It complemented her fresh, sweet, and lively aura.
Lu Yanchen’s dark, deep eyes flickered slightly, then casually looked away.
Outside, the storm raged on.
Luckily, the tree roots blocked the doorway, preventing the rain from flooding in.
He picked up the matchbox from the table, grabbed some straw and firewood, and quickly lit a fire.
Then he moved a small wooden stool and began drying his uniform around the fire, as if nothing had happened.
Wen Qiao froze.
Ignoring her?
Ah, damn it.
She grabbed the paper bag on the table, filled with pork and scallion buns.
She took a small stool and sat beside him.
Muttering curses in her heart, but looking obedient on the outside.
She handed the bag to him.
“Here, have something to eat.”
He glanced at her and refused.
“No need.”
He focused on drying his clothes without looking away.
Wen Qiao didn’t give up. She leaned close to his ear and whispered,
“If you don’t eat, I’ll kiss you!”
Lu Yanchen stiffened, his expression pausing for a moment.
His cold gaze fell on her face.
Wen Qiao blinked her bright eyes at him, mischievous yet intimate.
Lu Yanchen frowned.
Did she even know what restraint was?
A girl shouldn’t be so shameless.
Wen Qiao smiled, holding out the bag, remaining silent but persistent.
Her delicate wrist, slender and white, seemed like it could break if bent.
Lu Yanchen clenched his jaw and took it expressionlessly.
Two or three bites at a time, and in no time, the bag was empty.
Wen Qiao clicked her tongue in amazement.
Such a whirlwind pace.
Clearly hungry, yet still so composed.
She didn’t expose him, just poured a cup of hot water from the enamel mug and handed it over.
This time, he didn’t refuse.
And coldly said thanks.
“Thank you.”
Then he drank it in one gulp.
Lu Yanchen confirmed it wasn’t an illusion.
The water was sweet, and warmth lingered on his body.
Seeing him silent, Wen Qiao didn’t speak either.
Flirting had to be gradual, measured.
Rushing it would make one lose dignity.
In these conservative times, couples had to maintain a one-foot distance on the street, and even holding hands could bring criticism.
Earlier, Wen Qiao had touched, caressed, hugged, and held him.
Even if it was private, she had already crossed the line.
Lu Yanchen refused to date her, and she had no choice for now.
But no matter what, she was still his lifesaver.
For now, she could at least cling to this “big leg.”
Evening approached.
It had been scorching hot during the day.
Now, with the storm and wind, the temperature in the mountains had dropped sharply.
Cold and damp.
Wen Qiao shivered.
Earlier, while sitting, she had carefully posed, managed her expressions, even adjusted her legs to look good.
Her inner beauty might not show instantly, but her outer beauty could be clearly displayed.
But now the cold wind blew relentlessly into the small room.
Wen Qiao had no thoughts left, pulled her legs in, tightly wrapped her arms around her dress, and leaned toward the fire, trying to absorb warmth.
Although Lu Yanchen didn’t look directly at her, his senses were extremely sharp.
He could tell everything she did.
He subtly shifted, using his broad back to block the cold wind sneaking in from the door.
He added more dry wood to the fire.
The fire crackled, and the rain outside gradually lessened.
Bored, Wen Qiao quietly moved her small stool closer, inch by inch.
Until the edge of her dress touched his pants.
Lu Yanchen suddenly turned, his expression slightly displeased.
The firelight highlighted the sharp contours of his face, giving off an aura of cold distance that seemed to repel everything for miles around.