Chapter 9 Provocation

The glowing red cigarette butt was like a huge setting sun. The flowing flames seared his skin, instantly turning the fair flesh into a sickly bloody crater. The soft, decaying crimson seemed to bloom like a flower on his arm, even more vivid than the rose in Wen Lan Sheng’s hand. A world of red enveloped him. In a daze, he saw Fan Xia walking towards him.

She held a bouquet of flowers, the jarringly cold ring on her ring finger tossed aside on the ground.

Rong Xiu’s fingertips tightened, his breath suspended.

Fan Xia approached with the flowers, stuffing the large bouquet of roses into his chest. His nose was filled with an overwhelming fragrance that made him dizzy.

“You… won’t go keep Wen Lan Sheng company?” Rong Xiu asked, biting the tip of his tongue.

Fan Xia’s cool fingertips rested on his thin lips. Rong Xiu’s heart trembled with excitement, the tips of his ears flushing red.

She took his hand, her slender white fingers interlacing with his, so tightly there wasn’t a gap. Her low, husky voice brushed his ear, the warm breath carrying an indescribable intimacy: “Not going. I’m here to keep you company.”

Rong Xiu only felt a searing heat rising from his chest to his face. The sudden immense joy made his heart swell until it ached, yet he was so flustered he didn’t know what to do, his limbs stiff and clumsy.

He let Fan Xia lightly tug at his tightly knotted striped tie with her fingertips, messing up the meticulous tie. He was forced to tilt his head back as she removed his rimless glasses. His vision suddenly blurred. In the misty light, his Fan Xia seemed to be enveloped in a halo.

In a daze, he felt a pair of warm hands gently caressing the teardrop mole under his left eye. It was the warmth he had longed for for many years. Rong Xiu tremblingly grasped her hand, tilting his head to nuzzle into her gentle, ocean-wave-like palm.

The next second, Rong Xiu felt the warmth in his hand turn icy cold as everything went dark.

He suddenly opened his eyes and sat up from the couch. The cold, silent furniture around him wordlessly told him that everything just now had merely been a shameless wet dream.

Now awake, he was forced out of that lush, erotic reverie, his body burning.

Rong Xiu felt in his suit pocket – only an empty cigarette pack remained. The ashtray on the coffee table was already piled high with ashes.

He took a deep breath, removed his rimless glasses and casually tossed them on the coffee table, then strode into the bathroom for a cold shower.

The icy water pounded down on him, gathering into a stream along the lines of his fair, taut muscles. Cold, damp air permeated the space. Even the water traces on the glass were frigid, trying to dilute the delusions filling his body. But as he touched the teardrop mole under his left eye, his gaze remained lost in that illusory intimacy.

After the shower, Rong Xiu lay in bed as the melting moonlight shone in through the window. He closed his narrow eyes, forcing himself to fall asleep.

Half asleep, half awake, Rong Xiu seemed to feel the same gentle hand from that dream lightly touching his forehead. He groggily opened his eyes and saw Fan Xia’s familiar, tender gaze.

Another wet dream? Rong Xiu smiled self-deprecatingly. He was actually dreaming about another man’s wife.

Forget it. Since it was a dream, he’d indulge this once. At least in this dream, it was just the two of them, no Wen Lan Sheng.

No longer as flustered as before, he boldly reached out and wrapped his arms around Fan Xia’s neck. The two of them fell onto the soft bed together, ink-black hair tangling between them. Rong Xiu tilted his head up slightly and softly kissed her lips.

Just before completely losing consciousness, Rong Xiu saw dream Fan Xia’s eyes widen.

*

When Rong Xiu woke again, the sun was already setting, the stunningly molten gold slowly sinking into the nearby sea.

He sat up, feeling a bit dizzy and achy. Reaching up to rub his forehead out of habit, he was surprised to feel a fever-reducing patch.

Rong Xiu froze, his eyes sweeping to the side. There was packaging left on the nightstand.

Had he caught a fever last night and the family doctor came?

Rong Xiu peeled off the fever patch and wrapped his robe around himself as he headed downstairs. After just a few steps, he smelled the aroma of delicious food. He had always preferred living alone and disliked cohabitating. Even the maid who cleaned the house came and left at set times, never lingering too long. So there shouldn’t be a maid cooking for him at this time. Could it be Zhuang Nian?

Rong Xiu went downstairs, the fragrance growing richer. In the open kitchen, the slender, straight back of the busy figure had slightly curled long hair tied back with an elastic band, revealing an elegant, long neck. An apron tie wrapped around her waist, accentuating her willowy figure.

Rong Xiu’s lips trembled slightly, his eyes shaking, not daring to believe the delicate silhouette in the kitchen was Fan Xia.

Until she turned around and smiled at him: “CEO, are you feeling better?”

“You took care of me?” Rong Xiu asked tremblingly.

Fan Xia said: “Don’t misunderstand. I wasn’t the one who changed your clothes. Secretary Zhuang and I came to your house today when we saw you hadn’t come to the company and weren’t answering your phone. We found you had a high fever, so we called your family doctor. The two of us stayed at the house all day. It’s just that Secretary Zhuang unfortunately had something come up at home just now and had to go pick up his child from kindergarten. That’s why I’m the only one left. I took over the yam egg-drop porridge he had half prepared.”

Fan Xia thought Rong Xiu was concerned about a man and woman alone together inviting gossip, so she explained at length.

“Thank you.” Rong Xiu said, a hint of a faint smile spilling across his slightly pale, sickly face.

She was worried about him, called a doctor for him, and even specially made him porridge… How wonderful.

The pot released the fragrance of its ingredients, the sticky porridge bubbling. The usually cold, stark kitchen finally had a bit of human warmth.

“No need to be so polite with me.” Fan Xia smiled. One hand held a bowl with two cracked eggs inside, the other grasped an eggbeater. With a slight movement of her wrist, the eggbeater spun rapidly, mixing the eggs in an instant.

Her practiced motions surprised Rong Xiu.

In a female-dominant society, few women knew how to cook. Even if they did, it was usually things like instant noodles or frozen dumplings. But a woman like Fan Xia who clearly cooked often was extremely rare.

Could it be that Wen Lan Sheng’s domestic skills were all for show? In reality, he didn’t cook at home and instead had Fan Xia do it?

Rong Xiu furrowed his brow deeply.

“What’s wrong? Still feeling unwell?” Fan Xia put down the bowl, her eyes tinged with concern.

“No, no, I’m fine.” Rong Xiu shook his head.

“Oh right, the doctor prescribed you medicine before leaving. Take it three times a day before meals. Now is a good time.” Fan Xia pointed to the fever reducers and glass of water already poured on the coffee table.

Rong Xiu walked over and tested the water temperature – not too hot, not too cold, just right.

Rong Xiu snuck a glance at Fan Xia busy in the kitchen, the corners of his thin lips curling into a slight arc. Other than her, no one could manage such thoughtful details.

Following the doctor’s orders, he swallowed the medicine. Tilting his head back slightly, he drank the water Fan Xia had thoughtfully warmed for him. The silky water enveloped the bitter pills as they flowed down his throat. Though it was plain water, in that moment it tasted inexplicably sweet.

Rong Xiu held the glass. Even after taking the medicine, he continued to drink the water sip by sip until not a drop remained. Only then did he place the glass back on the coffee table and sit at the island.

Watching Fan Xia slowly pour the mixed eggs into the yam pumpkin porridge and gently stir in the same direction, he couldn’t help but ask: “Fan Xia, how do you know how to cook? Did Wen Lan Sheng make you do it?”

“No.” Fan Xia shook her head. “You know, my parents passed away early and I was sent to an orphanage afterwards. The management was chaotic at the time and we often went hungry, so I would secretly climb over the walls to find food for myself. Later when I started working, I didn’t have much savings. To save money, I learned to cook at home.”

In just a few short sentences, Rong Xiu could already picture a young Fan Xia dragging her small, soft body, struggling to survive.

He didn’t know if Fan Xia’s current unperturbed manner in the face of all hardships was shaped by the suffering she endured in her childhood. If that was really the case, he would rather Fan Xia not be like she is now than to have experienced that past pain.

“Let me help you.” Rong Xiu walked over to her side.

“You know how to cook?” Now it was Fan Xia’s turn to be surprised.

Rong Xiu raised his eyes to look at her, a faint smile in his narrow, cold gaze. “Why would you think I don’t know how?”

“In TV dramas, those young masters from wealthy families never lift a finger.” Fan Xia laughed.

Rong Xiu’s slightly upturned eyes crinkled with a smile. “Not everyone is like that. Today I’ll break your impression. Perhaps the food I make will taste even better than Wen Lan Sheng’s.”

Fan Xia smiled and shook her head, stopping Rong Xiu’s hand as he prepared to tie on an apron. “Even so, you can’t. You’re the patient today. I can’t let you in the kitchen or I’d be neglecting my duties.”

“We’re not at the company right now. I’m not your boss and you’re not my subordinate.” Rong Xiu said, his fingers nervously clasping where she couldn’t see. “Come to think of it, you always call me CEO or senior. You’ve never called me by my name… Actually, when we’re in private, you can call me that directly.”

Fan Xia was stunned for a moment.

Rong Xiu’s thick lashes trembled faintly, concealing his unease. “If you’re too formal in private, it makes me uncomfortable.”

Fan Xia breathed a sigh of relief. “Is that so? Alright then, I’ll change that in the future.”

She picked up a spoon and scooped a bowl of porridge. “Time to eat, Rong Xiu.”

Amidst her clear and gentle voice was a hint of a smile, like an April breeze sweeping across his heart.

This was the first time Fan Xia had called his name. Rong Xiu’s heart felt like it had fallen into a pot of honey.

But seeing only one bowl of porridge for him, Rong Xiu asked, “You’re not having any?”

Fan Xia shook her head. “This was made specially for you. You’re sick, so drinking some porridge is good for you.”

“But–” Rong Xiu opened his mouth.

However, Fan Xia’s phone rang inopportunely. She glanced down – the caller ID displayed ‘Lan Sheng’. Rong Xiu’s pot of honey shattered.

“What is it?” Fan Xia answered the call.

Though Wen Lan Sheng’s voice was faint on the other end, judging from his tone, he seemed to be asking why she still hadn’t returned home at this hour.

Rong Xiu glanced outside. It was almost pitch black. No wonder he was calling to ask.

As Fan Xia’s fiancé, her future husband, Wen Lan Sheng had the right to be concerned about her.

But this concern was a thorn in Rong Xiu’s heart, piercing the jealousy and resentment he had just managed to wrap up. Why?

Why him? What was so good about him? Just because they were childhood sweethearts? Just because Wen Lan Sheng had appeared in Fan Xia’s life a few years earlier than him, did that mean he would never be worthy of standing by her side for the rest of his life?

Based on what!

Reason was torn apart as jealousy surged like a raging sea.

Rong Xiu ladled some yam egg-drop porridge from the bowl. His cool voice sounded next to Fan Xia. “You’ve been tired all day too. Have some.”

Fan Xia looked at Rong Xiu in surprise, her finger accidentally hitting the end call button.

But his unhurried voice still traveled through the phone into Wen Lan Sheng’s ear.

Wen Lan Sheng had prepared a big table of dishes and waited two hours without seeing Fan Xia return. He had thought she was working overtime and was concerned about her health, so he called to ask. Who would have thought…

Wen Lan Sheng’s hand clenched into a fist. He recognized that it was Rong Xiu’s voice. What was he doing next to Fan Xia? And deliberately using such a suggestive tone.

“Sorry, I forgot you were on the phone with Lan Sheng.” Rong Xiu said guiltily. “He won’t misunderstand, will he?”

“If he knows the person who just spoke was you and not someone else, he probably won’t misunderstand.” Even Fan Xia didn’t really believe her own words.

She knew how strong Wen Lan Sheng’s jealousy was. Over the years, who knows how many men interested in her Wen Lan Sheng had secretly gotten rid of behind her back.

She knew, but never exposed it.

Rong Xiu’s words just now not only indicated that she wasn’t working overtime at the company, but was also out eating with another man. With Wen Lan Sheng’s temperament, he must be exploding right now.

“Then I’ll video call him to explain clearly.” Rong Xiu took the initiative.

“Thanks for the trouble.” Fan Xia breathed a sigh of relief and made the video call.

“Who was that man just now? You- that’s not the company. Where are you right now?” Wen Lan Sheng’s resentful, delicate face appeared, immediately launching into an interrogation.

But what he got wasn’t Fan Xia’s explanation, but rather Rong Xiu’s annoying face.

“Sorry about that Lan Sheng. Fan Xia is at my house right now. I came down with a high fever last night. I’m lucky Fan Xia came to take care of me. She even thoughtfully made me yam egg-drop porridge. But she insisted on only having me drink it. How could I let that slide? So I told her to eat with me. I didn’t expect you to overhear and misunderstand.”

Rong Xiu lazily propped his chin up, explaining in an unhurried manner. His messy hair from the fever fell across his forehead, adding a hint of fragility to his haggard, sickly appearance. But his black robe exposed a large expanse of fair, porcelain-like skin on his chest. The charm was half concealed, half revealed, the purity indescribable.

Wen Lan Sheng was infuriated by Rong Xiu’s deliberate provocation, but held back by Rong Xiu’s status as Fan Xia’s highest boss, he could only swallow his anger.

“So that’s how it is. I feel reassured then.” He said, barely suppressing his fury.

The corners of Rong Xiu’s thin lips lifted slightly, outlining a frivolous smile. “I knew Lan Sheng was an understanding man, not like those petty guys out there who get jealous over the littlest things. Not magnanimous at all.”

Wen Lan Sheng’s fingers were almost crushed from his grip.

“Alright, now that it’s all explained, let’s hang up.”

Without waiting for Wen Lan Sheng’s agreement, Rong Xiu took the initiative to end the call. Wen Lan Sheng was enraged. Looking at the meal he had painstakingly prepared, it had all become a joke. He angrily threw the dishes on the floor!