Fu Zhiyan leaned against the door, his long legs crossed, watching her chat and laugh with that man. An unexplainable irritation brewed inside him.
“Who is he?”
“That’s Julian Jarvis from the gallery,” Cecilia Ye replied, her gaze clear.
“You sold your painting? I told you, if you’re short on money, just tell me.” Fu Zhiyan frowned, his tone growing colder.
“I’m not short on money—I just didn’t want it anymore.”
“Upstairs.”
…
At the end of the day, this was Fu Zhiyan’s house. Cecilia Ye said nothing more and simply followed him upstairs.
Once there, Fu Zhiyan reached for her hand and inspected it carefully.
Cecilia Ye’s heart thudded. That was how Fu Zhiyan always was: so cold most of the time, but now and then, unexpectedly gentle and meticulous, making it impossible not to overthink.
“Does it still hurt?”
Noticing how her fingertips were still tinged with red, Fu Zhiyan frowned with a sliver of heartache even he didn’t notice himself. She used to be so afraid of pain. When she’d first come to the Fu house, she’d nicked herself and burrowed under the covers sobbing for half the day. Who would have guessed she’d be so bold now?
“It’s much better…”
She pulled her hand back and asked, “When…are we going to handle the paperwork?”
She meant the divorce papers. Cecilia Ye figured the sooner it was settled, the sooner she could give up hope.
Fu Zhiyan looked at his now empty hand, his eyes growing dark as ink. He fixed her with a cold stare. “In such a hurry?”
Cecilia Ye shrank back a little, pressing down the ache in her chest. “I just don’t want to delay things between you and Miss Bai…”
Her wrist was suddenly gripped tight. She was pulled into his arms, the faint woody scent on his body enveloping her.
His cold voice came from above her head. “Are you worried about getting in my way, or about me getting in yours?”
Cecilia Ye frowned, as if she couldn’t believe Fu Zhiyan would say such a thing.
She took a deep breath. “Julian Jarvis is just the gallery owner. There’s nothing between us.”
“Oh? Would a normal boss personally drive someone home? Cecilia Ye, we haven’t even finalized the divorce yet. Best remember what your status is.”
A bitter laugh trembled on her lashes as tears clung to them. Cecilia Ye felt a chill deep in her heart.
If you could remember we’re not divorced, you wouldn’t be so eager to bring Vivian Belle home.
“Zhiyan, the one who brought someone else home before we’re divorced isn’t me—it’s you.”
Her face lost its luster, those glass-like eyes dimming under a gauzy layer of sorrow.
Fu Zhiyan’s anger flared as her words hit home. “Cecilia Ye, you—”
Drained, Cecilia Ye no longer wanted to fight. “Did you need something today?”
“Grandpa Rivers’s birthday banquet is the day after tomorrow. You’re coming with me.”
“Of course. I wouldn’t miss Grandpa Rivers’s birthday.”
“I said, with me,” Fu Zhiyan insisted. “I don’t want Grandpa Rivers finding out about the divorce before his birthday. Got it?”
“Alright. I understand.”
Cecilia Ye agreed softly. She’d never been able to do anything but go along with his wishes, had she?
“I’m staying here tonight.”
Fu Zhiyan couldn’t say why. He’d planned on visiting Vivian Belle at the hospital, but when he saw Cecilia Ye’s stubborn little face, he suddenly didn’t want to leave.
Cecilia Ye blinked, startled. “You’re not going home? What about Vivian Belle—”
“I said I’m staying here, so I’m staying here.”
His tone brooked no argument as he finally let go of her hand.
Cecilia Ye wanted to cook dinner herself, and Fu Zhiyan let her be. Fortunately, the fridge was well stocked.
“Zhiyan, what do you want to eat?”
Cecilia Ye looked through the fridge, not bothering to glance back as she asked.
“Anything’s fine.” Fu Zhiyan had just showered, lounging on the sofa in a loose bathrobe with a book in hand.
From the semi-open kitchen, Cecilia Ye could easily see him. His robe was carelessly tied, baring his tanned chest—seductive, magnetic. Cecilia Ye’s face flushed pink.
Back at the main house, there were always so many servants; they’d rarely spent time alone like this. She forced herself to look away.
Stop it, Cecilia Ye. He belongs to someone else.
Soup was already simmering, its aroma wafting through the living room. She found tomatoes and eggs in the fridge, then grabbed a box of shrimp.
Her slender fingers quickly diced the tomatoes. The golden egg mixture hit the hot pan, filling the air with its scent. When the tomatoes joined, oil sizzled and splattered everywhere.
She’d learned the basics of cooking, but rarely practiced. Cecilia Ye was always jumpy around hot oil and instinctively darted back, bunny-like.
Only to run smack into a firm chest. Strong arms closed around her from behind, reaching to put the lid on the pan.
With his arm loosely at her waist, Cecilia Ye froze, murmuring, “Tha…thank you.”
“Your hand’s not healed, but you insist on cooking.”
Fu Zhiyan had secretly been watching her for a long while, the kitchen’s warm light brushing her hair with a gentle halo. Earnestly cooking for him, she made him feel something unfamiliar—warmth.
“I just…wanted to cook for you.”
Maybe soon, she wouldn’t have the chance again.
The rest of the sentence knotted in her throat.
She barely came up to his shoulder, small as a little rabbit. He turned her gently, lifting her onto the empty counter.
Cecilia Ye gasped, mind blanking out. Now she was peering down at him instead. His robe was loosely knotted, exposing the firm lines of his chest, making her eyes flutter.
His freshly-washed hair carried a mild fragrance, fine and soft—totally at odds with his cool persona.
A thousand thoughts spun in her mind, until he caught her hand.
Fu Zhiyan examined it closely. Satisfied it hadn’t suffered more injury, he finally relaxed.
The tomatoes sizzled in the pan.
“A-ah, quick, let me down! They’re about to burn!”
Snapping back to her senses, Cecilia Ye glanced at the stovetop in worry.
Fu Zhiyan suddenly teased her, “I’ll let you down—but you have to beg me.”
“Beg you…how?”
Cecilia Ye was momentarily confused.
He looked up at her lips, remembering how soft they felt. “Kiss me.”
Her heart skipped a beat, lashes trembling uncontrollably.
“I… I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“No? Are you saying you don’t care if the tomatoes burn?”
Seeing the mischief in his eyes, Cecilia Ye surrendered, leaning in for a quick kiss before pulling away.
Fu Zhiyan was in such a good mood seeing her blush that he set her down right away.
Cecilia Ye quickly escaped to check the tomatoes—thankfully, they hadn’t burned.
“You… you go sit down. I’ll call you when dinner’s ready.” Her face was crimson.
Watching her flustered hustle, Fu Zhiyan obediently returned to the sofa. He’d never noticed before how…adorable Cecilia Ye could be.
During dinner, her cheeks were still pink. There was stir-fried tomato and egg, braised shrimp, and pork rib and lotus root soup—two simple dishes and a soup, but vibrant and appetizing.
Fu Zhiyan had one bowl, then another, polishing off everything. He usually ate very little dinner.
Cecilia Ye asked quietly, “Did you…skip lunch today?”
Putting down his chopsticks, Fu Zhiyan looked at her. “The food at the office isn’t as good as yours.”
Cecilia Ye didn’t know what was up with him today, teasing her at every turn. Puffing her cheeks, she started to clear the table, and Fu Zhiyan got up to help.
Cecilia Ye was genuinely shocked to see him helping her clean for the first time. Her heart turned soft and sore—if only they were just a normal married couple.
Fu Zhiyan stuck his head out of the kitchen, brows knitted like he’d encountered a real dilemma. “How do you wash this?”
Cecilia Ye snapped out of her daydream. “Let me, it’s fine.”
“Your hand isn’t healed yet.”
Ignoring her protest, he disappeared back into the kitchen to figure it out himself.
Once everything was tidied up, they sat on the sofa watching TV for a while before heading upstairs to the bedroom.
The apartment had only one bedroom and one bed. Cecilia Ye hesitated by the bed. They were getting divorced; they shouldn’t be sleeping together. Besides, Fu Zhiyan’s heart was obviously with Vivian Belle.
“You really plan to stay tonight? Then I’ll…sleep on the couch.” She pulled open the wardrobe, searching for a spare blanket.
But before she could react, hands gently clasped her wrists, turning her to face him.
A warm chest pressed up against her, caging her in. Cecilia Ye cast her gaze down, her cheeks suddenly flushing.
Watching her trembling lashes—like tiny brushes sweeping his heart—Fu Zhiyan lowered his head and whispered, “Sleep here tonight.”
Cecilia Ye shrank back and mumbled an agreement, quickly darting into the bathroom.
It took two splashes of cold water before the blush faded from her face.
After her shower, she dashed across to the bed and burrowed under the covers.
The man reading at the headboard smiled, “What’s this? Love hiding under the quilt?”
Cecilia Ye shook her head, cheeks pink as ever.
He tossed his book aside and pulled both her—and the entire blanket—into his arms. She looked just like a startled bunny, her nose twitching, eyes blinking up at him.
Spotting the little beauty mark on her nose, Fu Zhiyan couldn’t help himself. His heart skipped, and he bent to kiss it.
His hand circled her waist, not too tight, not too loose. He’d never liked letting others get close, but with Cecilia Ye, he always wanted to keep her near.
Riiinnng—
The silence was shattered by the abrupt sound of his phone. Fu Zhiyan glanced at it and hung up.
Less than a minute later, it rang again. He clicked his tongue in annoyance and released her, picking it up.
“A’Yan, why didn’t you come see me today? Were you busy?”
“Not busy. Something came up.”
“Can you come visit? You promised this morning…I’ve been waiting ages. I want to go home, but I can’t get a ride this late. It’s so cold here.”
Fu Zhiyan’s brow furrowed deeper, his voice icy. “I’ll come over now.”
Every word from the phone found its way into Cecilia Ye’s ears. She knew—it was Vivian Belle.
Fu Zhiyan stood and got dressed, sparing Cecilia Ye a glance. “I’ll go drive her home.”
She nodded and shut her eyes.
The door clicked shut, leaving behind a sudden, icy quiet where warmth had just been moments ago.
Cecilia Ye let out a self-mocking laugh. Vivian Belle only had to call, and no matter where Fu Zhiyan was or what he was doing, he would always go to her.
Fu Zhiyan drove toward the hospital, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. He couldn’t get the image of Cecilia Ye out of his mind, a sudden yearning spreading in his chest. In that moment earlier, he hadn’t wanted to leave at all—all he’d wanted was to hold Cecilia Ye in his arms, just for one night.