Chapter 9: Provocation

The scarlet hot cigarette butt was like a giant setting sun, the flowing flames searing his skin. His fair skin instantly turned into a pathological blood hole, the soft and rotten red seeming to bloom into a flower on his arm, even more gorgeous than the rose in Wen Lan Sheng’s hand. Surrounded by a sea of red, in his daze, he saw Fan Xia walking towards him.

She held a bouquet of flowers, the cold and abrupt ring on her ring finger left lonely 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 intense fragrance that made him dizzy.

“You’re… not going to accompany Wen Lan Sheng?” Rong Xiu asked, biting his tongue.

Fan Xia’s cool fingertips stopped on his thin lips. Rong Xiu’s heart trembled with excitement, his ear tips suppressing a flush.

She took his hand, her fair slender fingers intertwining with his, leaving no gap. Her low, hoarse voice clung to his ear, her warm breath carrying an indescribable ambiguity: “Not going. I’m here to accompany you.”

Rong Xiu felt a burning sensation spread from his chest to his face. The sudden, immense joy made his heart swell with a sour softness, yet he was also flustered, not knowing what to do, his limbs clumsy and stiff.

He allowed Fan Xia’s fingertips to lightly hook his tightly bound striped tie, loosening the meticulously tied necktie. He was forced to tilt his head back, his frameless glasses removed by her. His vision suddenly became a bit blurry. Under the misty light, his Fan Xia seemed to be wrapped in a layer of light.

In a daze, he felt a pair of warm hands gently touch the tear mole under his left eye. It was the warmth he had yearned for many years. Rong Xiu tremblingly held her hand, tilting his head to nuzzle slightly in her palm, as gentle as ocean waves.

The next second, Rong Xiu felt the warmth in his hand turn cold, and darkness fell before his eyes.

He abruptly opened his eyes, sitting up on the sofa. The cold and quiet furniture around him silently told him that everything just now was just a shameless spring dream he had.

Now he woke up, forced to wake from that lush spring sentiment, his body hot all over.

Rong Xiu felt his suit pocket, only an empty cigarette box remained. The ashtray on the coffee table was already full of ashes.

He took a deep breath, took off his frameless glasses and casually threw them on the coffee table, then quickly walked into the bathroom and took a cold shower.

The cold water column poured down on him, converging into a stream along his fair, taut muscle lines. The wet cold air permeated, even the water marks on the glass were cold and desolate, trying to dilute his body full of delusions. But he touched the tear mole under his left eye, his eyes still sinking into that illusory love.

After showering, Rong Xiu lay on the bed. The cold moonlight from outside shone in. He closed his narrow eyes, forcing himself to sleep.

Half asleep and half awake, Rong Xiu seemed to feel the same gentle hand as in the dream just now lightly touching his forehead. He opened his eyes hazily and saw Fan Xia’s familiar gentle eyes.

Having a spring dream again? Rong Xiu smiled self-mockingly. He actually even thought about another’s wife in his dreams.

Forget it, since it’s a dream, let’s indulge once. At least in this dream, it’s just the two of them, without Wen Lan Sheng.

He was no longer as helpless as before, boldly reaching out his hand to embrace Fan Xia’s neck. They fell together onto the soft bed, their ink-like long hair tangled between them. Rong Xiu tilted his head slightly, gently kissing her lips.

Before completely losing consciousness, Rong Xiu saw the Fan Xia in his dream widen her eyes.

When Rong Xiu woke up again, it was already sunset. The shocking molten gold-like setting sun was gradually sinking into the nearby sea.

He sat up, feeling a bit dizzy and his body somewhat sore. He instinctively touched his forehead, unexpectedly feeling a fever patch stuck there.

Rong Xiu was stunned, his eyes sweeping to the side, seeing the remaining packaging paper on the bedside table.

Could it be that he had a fever last night and the family doctor came?

Rong Xiu tore off the fever patch, gathered his robe, and walked downstairs. After just a few steps, he smelled a fragrant aroma of food. He had always preferred to live alone, disliking living with others. Even the maids who cleaned the villa came and went at fixed times, not lingering in the villa for too long. Therefore, there shouldn’t be any maids cooking for him at this time. Could it be Zhuang Nian?

Rong Xiu went downstairs, the aroma becoming stronger. In the open kitchen, the busy figure’s back was slender and straight. The slightly curly long hair was tied up with a hair tie, revealing a beautiful, long neck. An apron string passed through her waist, outlining her slim waist.

Rong Xiu’s lips trembled slightly, his eyes shaking, unable to believe that the slender figure in the kitchen was Fan Xia.

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

“Did you take care of me?” Rong Xiu asked tremblingly.

Fan Xia said, “Please don’t misunderstand, I didn’t change your clothes. Today, Zhuang Secretary and I saw that you hadn’t come to the company and weren’t answering your phone, so we came to your house together. We found you had a high fever, so we called your family doctor. We’ve both been watching over the villa all day. It’s just unfortunate that Zhuang Secretary had to go pick up his child from kindergarten just now, so only I was left, and I took over the yam and lotus root porridge that Zhuang Secretary had prepared halfway.”

Fan Xia thought Rong Xiu was concerned about a man and woman being alone together, which could lead to gossip if word got out, so she explained at length.

“Thank you,” Rong Xiu said, a faint smile emerging on his pale, sickly face.

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

The pot emitted waves of fragrant ingredients, the thick porridge bubbling. The kitchen, which had been cold and quiet for years, finally had a touch of human warmth.

“No need to be so formal with me,” Fan Xia smiled, holding a bowl in one hand with two eggs cracked into it, and an egg beater in the other. With a slight movement of her wrist, the egg beater rotated quickly, instantly mixing the eggs.

The skilled movements surprised Rong Xiu.

In a matriarchal society, it was rare for women to cook for themselves. Even if they did, it was usually just things like cooking instant noodles or frozen dumplings. But women like Fan Xia, who clearly cooked regularly, were extremely rare.

Could it be that Wen Lan Sheng’s domesticity was just a facade? In reality, he didn’t cook at home, but instead let Fan Xia do the cooking?

Rong Xiu frowned deeply.

“What’s wrong? Are you still feeling unwell?” Fan Xia put down the bowl in her hand, her eyes slightly worried.

“It’s… nothing,” Rong Xiu shook his head.

“By the way, the doctor left you some medicine when he left. Take it three times a day, before meals. It’s a good time for you to take it now,” Fan Xia pointed to the fever medicine and the water already poured on the coffee table.

Rong Xiu walked over and tested the water temperature. It was neither cold nor hot, just right.

Rong Xiu’s eyes secretly swept over Fan Xia busy in the kitchen, his thin lips curling into a slight arc. No one but her could do such meticulous things.

Following the doctor’s instructions, he swallowed the medicine and slightly raised his head to drink the water Fan Xia had pre-warmed. The smooth water wrapped around the bitter pill as it flowed down his throat. Though it was just ordinary water, it somehow tasted a bit sweet at this moment.

Rong Xiu held the water glass, and even though he had already taken the medicine, he still drank all the water in the glass sip by sip until there wasn’t a drop left. Only then did he put the glass back on the coffee table and sit at the island counter.

Watching Fan Xia slowly pour the beaten egg mixture into the yam and lotus root 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. At that time, the management was chaotic and we often couldn’t eat enough. I would secretly climb over the wall to find things to eat. Later, when I started working, I didn’t have much savings, so to save money, I would learn to cook at home.”

In just a few sentences, Rong Xiu seemed to see the young Fan Xia struggling to survive with her small, soft body.

He didn’t know if Fan Xia’s current ability to face all hardships calmly was shaped by those childhood hardships. If that was the case, he would rather Fan Xia not be like this now, if it meant not experiencing those past pains.

“Let me help you,” Rong Xiu said, walking to her side.

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

Rong Xiu looked up at her, his narrow, cold eyes filled with a faint smile: “Why would you think I don’t know how?”

“I’ve seen in TV dramas that young masters from rich families never lift a finger,” Fan Xia laughed.

Rong Xiu’s slightly upturned eyes smiled: “Not everyone is like that. Today, I’ll break your impression. Perhaps my cooking is even better than Wen Lan Sheng’s.”

Fan Xia shook her head with a smile, stopping Rong Xiu’s hand as he was about to tie on an apron: “That won’t do. Today you’re the patient, I can’t let you cook. Otherwise, I’d be neglecting my duty.”

“We’re not at the company now. I’m not your boss, and you’re not my subordinate,” Rong Xiu said, his fingers nervously gripping 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, in private, you can just call me like that.”

Fan Xia was taken aback.

Rong Xiu’s thick eyelashes trembled slightly, hiding the anxiety in his heart, and said, “If you’re too formal in private, I’ll feel uncomfortable.”

Fan Xia relaxed: “Is that so? Alright, I’ll change it from now on.”

She picked up a spoon, ladled a bowl of porridge, and said, “It’s time to eat, Rong Xiu.”

Her clear and gentle voice carried a faint smile, like an April spring breeze brushing over his heart.

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

But seeing only one portion of porridge in front of him, Rong Xiu asked, “Aren’t you going to have some?”

Fan Xia shook her head: “This is specially made for you. You’re the patient, drinking some porridge is good for your body.”

“But—” Rong Xiu opened his mouth.

Fan Xia’s phone rang inopportunely. He looked down and saw the caller ID was ‘Lan Sheng’. The honey jar in Rong Xiu’s heart shattered. “What is it?” Fan Xia answered the phone.

Wen Lan Sheng’s voice on the other end of the phone was faint, but from the tone, it seemed he was asking why she hadn’t returned at this hour.

Rong Xiu looked at the sky, it was almost completely dark. No wonder he called to ask.

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

But this care was a thorn in Rong Xiu’s heart, piercing through the jealousy and discontent he had carefully wrapped up. Why? Why him? What’s so good about him? Just because they’re childhood sweethearts? Just because Wen Lan Sheng appeared in Fan Xia’s life a few years earlier than him, so he would never have the right to stand by her side for a lifetime?

Why!

Reason tore apart, the sea of jealousy surged.

Rong Xiu scooped up the yam and lotus root porridge in the bowl, his cold voice sounding beside Fan Xia: “You’ve been tired all day too, have some.”

Fan Xia looked at Rong Xiu in surprise, her finger accidentally touching the hang-up button.

But his voice still slowly transmitted through the phone into Wen Lan Sheng’s ears.

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

Wen Lan Sheng’s hand clenched into a fist. He recognized that as Rong Xiu’s voice. What was he doing by Fan Xia’s side? And deliberately using such an ambiguous tone.

“I’m sorry, I forgot you were on the phone with Lan Sheng,” Rong Xiu said apologetically. “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,” Fan Xia didn’t quite believe these words herself.

Fan Xia knew how strong Wen Lan Sheng’s jealousy was. Over the years, Wen Lan Sheng had secretly gotten rid of countless men who were interested in her.

She knew it all, but never exposed it.

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

“Then I’ll make a video call to explain things clearly to him,” Rong Xiu offered.

“Thank you for the trouble,” Fan Xia sighed in relief and dialed the video call.

“Who was that man just now? You… this isn’t the company, where are you now?” Wen Lan Sheng’s delicate face, filled with resentment, came through, immediately launching into a series of questions.

But what he got wasn’t Fan Xia’s explanation, but Rong Xiu’s annoying face. “Sorry about that, Lan Sheng. Fan Xia is at my house now. I had a high fever last night, and thanks to Fan Xia coming to take care of me, she even thoughtfully made me some yam and lotus root porridge. But she insists on letting me drink it alone. How could I feel right about that? So I asked her to eat with me, not expecting you to overhear and misunderstand.”

Rong Xiu lazily rested his chin on his hand, explaining unhurriedly. His hair, disheveled from the high fever, hung over his forehead, adding a touch of fragility to his haggard, sickly appearance. Yet the black robe revealed a large expanse of porcelain-white skin on his chest, half-hidden and half-revealed, making it difficult to describe his innocence.

Wen Lan Sheng was enraged by Rong Xiu’s deliberate provocation, but due to Rong Xiu’s position as Fan Xia’s direct superior, he had to swallow his anger.

“So that’s how it is. Then I’m relieved,” he said, barely containing his fury.

Rong Xiu’s thin lips curved slightly, sketching a faint smile: “I knew Lan Sheng was a considerate person, not like those petty men out there who get jealous over little things, showing no magnanimity at all.”

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

“Alright, since we’ve cleared things up, we’ll hang up now.”

Without waiting for Wen Lan Sheng’s agreement, Rong Xiu hung up the call. Wen Lan Sheng was furious, seeing the meal he had carefully prepared become a joke. In anger, he smashed all the dishes onto the floor.