Chapter 27: Stirring Emotions

Everything happened so quickly, Wen Shuyu didn’t have time to react.

All she knew was that Jiang Huaiyu called her name. She heard his familiar, clear voice just as he stepped in front of her.

The world seemed to roar in her ears as the fruit knife clattered to the ground from Jiang Huaiyu’s lean arm, the metallic “ding” echoing around them.

The sound snapped Wen Shuyu back to reality. Jiang Huaiyu slumped against her shoulder.

As she saw him falling, her instincts kicked in. She caught him, her voice trembling as she cried, “Jiang Huaiyu, don’t fall asleep!”

Bystanders rushed in, courageously pinning down Ding Jingming.

In the corner, Lin Silo frantically called the police and an ambulance, trembling from the trauma of facing Ding Jingming again. Fear was embedded deep within her bones.

Wen Shuyu clung to Jiang Huaiyu, his blood flowing down his arm, staining his white shirt a vivid red. Her hands were smeared with his warm, sticky blood, the metallic scent filling the air.

It overpowered the familiar scent of pinewood that always lingered around Jiang Huaiyu.

Leaning against the wall, Jiang Huaiyu forced himself to stand, trying to ease the burden on Wen Shuyu. With his free hand, he gently touched her head and, with a weak smile, asked, “Wife, are you okay?”

His face was pale, lips drained of color.

Blood gushed from his wound, pooling on the ground. Wen Shuyu couldn’t bear to look, but she fought to stay calm. She quickly untied the silk scarf from her bag, wrapping it tightly around his arm.

The most important thing right now was to stop the bleeding.

Even with such a serious injury, Jiang Huaiyu’s first concern was still her—asking if she was okay, worrying about her.

Wen Shuyu wrapped her arms around his waist, fighting back the sting of tears. She bit her lower lip hard, determined not to let them fall, and gently shook her head. “I’m fine.”

“As long as you’re okay,” Jiang Huaiyu murmured in reassurance, his voice soft. “Don’t worry, I’m not about to leave you a widow.”

He could still joke, even in a situation like this.

Within ten minutes, the police arrived, taking Ding Jingming away. With witnesses, evidence, and surveillance, there was no room for him to argue.

Lin Silo, still shaken, apologized from the corner. “I’m so sorry, Lawyer Wen.”

Wen Shuyu managed a weak smile. “It’s not your fault. Thank goodness you divorced him.”

That man was clearly unstable. If Lin Silo hadn’t left him, who knows when she might have ended up on the wrong end of his knife.

The ambulance soon arrived, and the paramedics treated Jiang Huaiyu in the back of the vehicle. They cleaned the wound, but the extent of his injury wouldn’t be clear until they reached the hospital.

Their hands remained clasped tightly together. His palm was icy cold, and Wen Shuyu wrapped both her hands around his, trying to warm him. But no matter how much she rubbed, his body temperature continued to drop from the blood loss.

Wen Shuyu cradled him in her arms. “I’m so sorry.”

“Idiot, it’s not your fault,” Jiang Huaiyu said with a faint smile.

In the emergency room, the doctor examined the deep cut on his arm and prepared to stitch the wound. When they cut open his sleeve, Wen Shuyu finally saw the full extent of it—a deep gash splitting his pale skin like a canyon.

As the doctor carefully stitched the wound, Wen Shuyu turned away, her nose stinging, her eyes blurring with unshed tears. Despite her efforts, tears silently streamed down her face. She cried softly, not wanting Jiang Huaiyu to notice, afraid he’d worry.

It was all her fault. Jiang Huaiyu had been injured protecting her. If it weren’t for him, she would have been the one lying there. And if it weren’t for her, he wouldn’t have gotten hurt.

After a few minutes, she wiped away her tears and forced a smile. “It must hurt. Let me blow on it.”

Jiang Huaiyu gently touched the corner of her reddened eyes. “My little fairy has magic—one blow, and the pain’s gone.”

The hospital was quiet in the late hours of the night. Jiang Huaiyu sat on a blue chair, his arm wrapped in bandages. The blood on his white shirt had dried, turning the fabric a deep crimson. The stark contrast between white and red was jarring.

Even disheveled and pale, his refined air remained intact—sharp-featured, broad-shouldered, long-legged, sitting there as if he were royalty.

Wen Shuyu’s heart ached. This was the second time he’d risked his life to protect her. She felt an overwhelming wave of guilt and exhaustion, and back at home, as soon as she sat down, the tears came rushing out again.

She hadn’t wanted to cry, but the image of Jiang Huaiyu shielding her in that alley played in her mind over and over.

Jiang Huaiyu crouched down in front of her, patting her head. “Silly, I’m fine now.”

Wen Shuyu wiped her tears with a tissue and sniffed. “I must have some bad luck this year. I should probably visit a temple, I’ve even dragged you into this.”

“Silly girl, it has nothing to do with luck. It’s about people. I’m your husband. Don’t talk about being a burden—protecting you is my responsibility.”

His voice, calm and soothing like a mountain breeze, brought her comfort.

“But you shouldn’t use your body as a shield.”

In that moment, there hadn’t been time to think. His only thought had been that Wen Shuyu couldn’t get hurt.

“I’ll be more careful next time,” Jiang Huaiyu said, before quickly correcting himself. “No, there won’t be a next time.”

With both their parents out of town, trying to win back their wives, Wen Shuyu and Jiang Huaiyu agreed not to tell them what had happened until they returned.

Jiang Huaiyu, drenched in cold sweat, headed to the bedroom to change. He couldn’t shower, but wiping down with a towel would help.

With only one arm usable, unbuttoning his shirt was a challenge. After struggling for a while, he managed to undo two buttons.

“Let me do it.” Wen Shuyu took over, quickly unbuttoning the rest for him.

As her fingertips brushed against his skin, her breath tickled his chest, sending a shiver through him, though her actions were completely innocent.

Jiang Huaiyu looked down at her, watching as she focused on unbuttoning his shirt with the utmost seriousness.

As she pulled off his sleeve, a familiar fish-shaped cufflink came into view—the other was still in her pocket.

“How many fish cufflinks do you have, exactly?”

Jiang Huaiyu chuckled. “I’ve lost count. All kinds of fish.”

She hadn’t paid attention before, but there had always been little fish details like this in his wardrobe.

“I’m going to wipe down,” he said.

Wen Shuyu leaned against the door, waiting. When she didn’t hear the usual sound of running water, she paced back and forth, biting her nails, unsure what to do.

Finally, she took a deep breath, clenched her fists, and marched into the bathroom. “Let me help you.”

Jiang Huaiyu, caught off guard, looked up in surprise, dropping the towel into the tub. He stood there, wearing only his boxers, with a thin layer of mist clinging to his skin.

Wen Shuyu reminded herself: You’re just here to help him wash up. You’re married. This is completely normal.

Jiang Huaiyu stammered, “I can handle it myself.”

“Sit down,” she insisted, pushing him onto the chair.

She carefully wiped down his back and chest, moving methodically, doing her best to ignore the intimate atmosphere of the bathroom. Her eyes fixed on the floor as she silently reminded herself: You’re just here to help.

Finally, she exhaled a sigh of relief. “All done.”

When she looked up, Jiang Huaiyu’s lean, muscular body was on full display, water droplets from his black hair sliding down his collarbone, tracing a path across his chest.

And she couldn’t help but notice.

He had abs and chest muscles, which Wen Shuyu had already felt through the towel earlier. But seeing it in person? The impact was much greater.

This was the first time she’d ever seen such a defined set of eight-pack abs, and curiosity got the better of her. She reached out but hesitated, drawing her hand back.

Her small movement didn’t go unnoticed by Jiang Huaiyu. He waited quietly for her next move.

Swallowing nervously, Wen Shuyu extended her trembling hand and poked his abs. Not too soft, not too hard—just the perfect firmness. Instinctively, she gave a gentle squeeze.

She could feel the tension in the man standing in front of her, his muscles taut under her touch. Wen Shuyu’s hand trailed over his abs, and when she looked up, her gaze collided with his deep, playful eyes, a teasing smile dancing on his lips.

Flustered, she quickly retracted her hand, stammering, “I-I’m going to step out now.”

But before she could escape, Jiang Huaiyu caught her wrist and pulled her into his arms.

Their bodies pressed tightly together, and her wet white shirt clung to her skin, revealing the champagne-colored lingerie underneath, along with a hint of her chest.

Jiang Huaiyu’s throat went dry. He was, after all, a normal man, and standing before him was the woman he loved.

Clearing his throat, he teased, “Wife, you can’t just tease me and run away. You have to take responsibility.”

“How… how should I take responsibility?” Wen Shuyu stammered.

She could feel his heart racing against hers, as well as the growing tension between them from when she had been tending to his wounds.

Jiang Huaiyu guided her hand toward a more intimate area, his body heating up even more, as if the temperature in the bathroom had risen by ten degrees.

“What do you think?” His voice was husky, roughened like gravel.

“I… I’ve never done this before. I don’t know how,” Wen Shuyu murmured, her voice small and uncertain. She didn’t say no—just that she didn’t know how.

Jiang Huaiyu, ever the temptress, leaned closer, whispering in her ear like a sorcerer, “Don’t worry. I’ll teach you.”

He grasped her hand again.

But Wen Shuyu quickly pulled it away, “No, I don’t want to.”

The heat of the room, combined with her embarrassment, made her feel as though she were in a sauna. Her heart raced, and she felt a deep sense of longing and discomfort she couldn’t shake.

Jiang Huaiyu didn’t force her, instead letting time pass, waiting.

“Are you done yet?” she asked, keeping her eyes shut tight. Her hands hung uselessly by her sides as if they didn’t belong to her, unsure of where to put them. Her face was as red as a lobster.

Jiang Huaiyu gazed down at her flushed cheeks, his voice rasping, “Call my name.”

“Jiang Huaiyu.”

“No, not like that.”

“Huaiyu gege…”

“Closer, almost there.”

“Hubby…”

Her voice was soft, like silk soaked in water.

Jiang Huaiyu lowered his head, nipping her earlobe, causing Wen Shuyu to tremble as if struck by lightning, her words dying in her throat.

“Don’t stop. Keep calling me,” he whispered against her skin.

“Hubby…” Wen Shuyu found herself repeating the word countless times under his gentle coaxing, until the small, enclosed space was thick with tension and swirling hormones.

The bathroom grew quiet, and Wen Shuyu breathed a sigh of relief.

In the narrow room, Jiang Huaiyu’s shallow breaths filled the air as he relished in the lingering sensations. How could everything about her be so soft? Her lips, her hands…

Damn it, he couldn’t think about that now.

Wen Shuyu’s lips were red and swollen from biting them, her eyes half-lidded and hazy. Jiang Huaiyu leaned down and captured her mouth in a fierce kiss.

She tilted her head back, surrendering to the intensity of his kisses.

The kiss deepened as he parted her lips, drawing in her breath. Only when she was gasping for air did he finally pull away.

“Yuyu, you’re going to be the death of me,” Jiang Huaiyu murmured.

Wen Shuyu stood there in a daze, finally tossing the towel aside in frustration. “Figure it out yourself. I’m leaving.”

He kissed her without asking, did all kinds of ridiculous things—she wasn’t going to stay any longer.

She headed to the sink, washing her hands thoroughly with soap, mentally cursing herself for not leaving earlier.

Wen Shuyu went to the guest bathroom to shower, determined to avoid being in the same space with him, knowing it could only lead to more trouble.

Lying in bed later, she didn’t even want to look at him. Every time she saw him, all she could think of was what had happened in the bathroom. He was still injured, yet so reckless.

Tossing and turning, unable to sleep, she grabbed her phone and messaged her friend, Shen Ruoying, giving her a brief rundown of what had happened. Yingying, how should I thank Jiang Huaiyu? He saved my life again.

Shen Ruoying responded, Offer yourself to him. That’s what people usually do.

Anything besides that? Wen Shuyu asked.

He’s not lacking money or fame. All he’s missing is someone to keep him warm at night. Men only want money and beauty.

Her analysis was spot-on.

He’s saved my life twice. Offering myself in return doesn’t seem too bad… at least we’d be even.

The message went unanswered after that.

No one could tear them apart now, though one of them still hadn’t fully realized how deeply they had fallen.

Jiang Huaiyu, caught off guard, simply muttered, “Thanks.”

After half a month of living a laid-back, carefree life, the day for Jiang Huaiyu to get his stitches removed finally arrived.

His arm had healed well, though it left behind a menacing scar.

Wen Shuyu stared at the red mark for a long time, unable to shake her unease.

Jiang Huaiyu casually stretched out his arm and put on his shirt, not bothered by it at all. His slender fingers fastened each button slowly. “I’m a guy—scars don’t matter.”

At his cuff, he wore a new pair of cufflinks shaped like pink fish.

“How am I supposed to repay you?” Wen Shuyu murmured to herself, her eyes focused on the shoes pacing the floor.

Jiang Huaiyu chuckled softly, lowering his gaze as he patted her head. “You don’t have to repay me. You’re my wife.”

The warmth in his eyes spread, gentle and lingering.

But it vanished just as quickly.

In the space where Wen Shuyu couldn’t see, a shadow gathered in Jiang Huaiyu’s deep eyes, a faint gloom flickering beneath the surface.