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The night breeze slipped between the cold, hard phone and her palm, sending a chill up her earlobe. A few stray strands of hair drilled into Chen Shu Yin’s eye corners, irritatingly disobedient, causing red veins to suddenly appear in her eyes.
The three of them looked towards the lowered car window. From the front seat, Zhou Qi’s face appeared, polite and respectful as he called out, “Sister-in-law, brother is waiting for you.”
The rear car door automatically popped open. A man sat in the backseat with his legs spread lazily, exuding an air of nonchalance. The hand holding his phone rested against his ear, mirroring Chen Shu Yin’s pose. His palm was wrapped in a fresh white bandage.
In contrast to his raven-black attire, his entire presence was both brooding and unapproachable, yet undeniably distinguished.
He hadn’t ended the call. From under his mask, his voice carried over, “Are you getting in, or should I come down and carry you?”
Chen Shu Yin lowered her hand, turned to Zhu Fang Ning and Fang Zi Miao, and smirked casually. “My husband’s here. Excuse me.”
With that, she stepped into the car with unrestrained satisfaction. The door closed slowly, right on cue.
She sat upright, not bothering to check the expressions of the two people outside. They couldn’t be looking too pleased.
As a toddler learning to speak, Chen Shu Yin had often been cradled in the nanny’s arms, lulled to sleep with bedtime stories told in a slow, rhythmic tempo.
The nanny’s well-worn book, “365 Days of Overbearing CEO Love”, had frayed corners from excessive flipping, but she still enjoyed reading it tirelessly.
She once said that the most attractive moment for a man wasn’t his divine good looks or his sweet-talking skills, but the way he descended from the heavens to lift a struggling Cinderella from the mud, transforming her into someone standing at the top.
Chen Shu Yin never saw herself as a damsel in distress in need of rescue. After all, even the strong must sometimes go against the wind. When she hit a wall she couldn’t break through, acknowledging her momentary mediocrity and lack of strategy was merely a pause for regrouping, wasn’t it?
She hated accepting help, but she had to admit—Pei Yu’s arrival had indeed saved her face.
“Thank you,” she said sincerely for the first time.
Pei Yu pulled off his cap and mask, tilting his gaze toward her. He seemed to be in a good mood. “No need. You gave me the thrill of playing the hero.”
Zhou Qi, holding the steering wheel, turned to look out the window and chuckled. Of course—it wasn’t a coincidence that Pei Yu had been waiting outside the gate for two hours, timing his entrance perfectly.
Pei Yu, oblivious to being exposed, pulled out a pack of tissues from the seat pocket, tore it open, and handed it to her. “If I’d come any later, someone would’ve been crying.”
“……”
This man couldn’t even pretend to be normal for a full minute.
Chen Shu Yin let it slide, considering he had helped her out. “Can you stop assuming I cry? My hair just poked my eye—that was a reflex.”
Pei Yu pursed his lips knowingly and handed her a bottle of eye drops. Without any context, he asked, “You don’t cry?”
Chen Shu Yin looked at him, puzzled, and didn’t take it.
“The film crew uses this to induce tears. Want to try?” Pei Yu pried open her clenched fist and stuffed it into her palm.
Chen Shu Yin stared down at the bottle, silently wondering if he had some kind of obsession—constantly trying to make her cry.
But she had always been like this. Barring physiological tears, she never cried.
Crying was embarrassing.
Chen Zhi Xiao once said, “Women are such a hassle—always crying since they were little.”
Fang Zi Miao had also said, “You start crying over the smallest thing. Do you know how much you embarrass me when I take you to social events?”
Over time, under these words and experiences, Chen Shu Yin lost the ability to cry naturally.
“Why would I cry?” She held the bottle tightly, insisting.
Pei Yu didn’t respond. Instead, Zhou Qi spoke up, “Sister-in-law, crying is just a way to express emotions. You don’t only cry when you’re sad—people cry when they’re happy or moved, too.”
“So? Why would I cry when I’m perfectly fine?” Chen Shu Yin found their thought process frustratingly similar—always going in circles.
Pei Yu’s cool gaze swept over her. “Your face is so scrunched up it looks worse than crying. Is that explanation clear enough?”
Chen Shu Yin used her phone’s front camera as a mirror and saw a face filled with exhaustion and dullness.
Surprisingly, his blunt and harsh words didn’t bother her at all.
Tilting her head back, she pried open her eyelids and squeezed a few drops onto her eyeballs. A sharp, cooling sting spread through her eyes as she shut them.
A wet streak slid down from the corner of her eye, trailing to the corner of her lips.
A momentary warmth brushed her face. She snapped her eyes open—Pei Yu’s hand was pulling away, fingers gliding over the moisture before his gaze lifted to meet hers.
His bandaged hand tightened slightly, moving with deliberate slowness—sensual yet sickly.
Chen Shu Yin couldn’t help but suspect he had the impulse to taste his own fingertips, just like that night when he had swallowed her fingertip and, after what felt like an eternity, released it amidst waves of pleasure.
“Pervert,” she suddenly cursed in the silent car.
“Yeah, I’m a pervert. And you’re the fool who doesn’t appreciate kindness,” Pei Yu responded without hesitation.
He moved his injured hand closer to her. Was he being obvious enough? Was she going to pretend not to see it? Was her eyesight failing?
Chen Shu Yin stared at the approaching hand. His fingertips were slightly flushed from friction, still glistening, his knuckles long yet powerful—irresistibly alluring. She muttered blankly, “I’ll return the favor. You insulted me too soon.”
“I overestimated you,” Pei Yu chuckled, almost to himself.
Zhou Qi occasionally glanced at the rearview mirror, observing the state of the two in the backseat. At the right moment, he spoke up, “Sister-in-law, Pei Ge injured his hand while cooking for you this afternoon. He can’t touch water for a while. If you’re not comfortable cooking, just call me—I can manage.”
“You cooked for me?” Chen Shu Yin’s eyes widened.
Cooking for her despite an injury—was he in a hurry to poison her?
Pei Yu tilted his head toward her. “What’s the problem?”
Chen Shu Yin shifted uncomfortably in her seat. With someone else present, she swallowed down the words bubbling up and simply crossed her arms.
After Zhou Qi left, she hesitated, then spoke carefully behind his wheelchair. “I assume I made myself clear? Our current relationship won’t last. I thought you calling yourself my husband was just to tease me. You don’t actually take it seriously, do you?”
Pei Yu leaned back, opening the car’s sunroof. “Didn’t you call me ‘husband’ so naturally outside the TV station?”
He continued, “I’m just fulfilling my duty as a husband—cooking for my wife, picking her up from work. What’s the issue?”
Chen Shu Yin understood Pei Yu’s reputation in the public eye—righteous and untainted.
But she knew his mischievous nature. Pretending otherwise in front of her? That was pointless.
“That was a special circumstance—you can see it as an adaptive response,” she debated. “You don’t need to waste your effort. If you expect me to fulfill any wife-like duties, then yes, I truly don’t appreciate kindness.”
Pei Yu’s dark eyes flickered slightly before he smirked and smoothly changed the subject. “Didn’t you say you’d return the favor? Help me change my bandage. That’s within your comfort zone, right?”