He called her by her full name, his voice tinged with a chill from nerves and worry.
All these years, Fu Zhiyé’s embrace had always been the same—safe, broad, making one want to depend on him.
Cecilia Ye had always been a sensible girl. She knew when to advance or retreat and never caused trouble for others.
So many times when she wanted help or needed something, she chose to bear it on her own. If she was wronged, she would only hide away and cry.
She didn’t understand—do people who are too sensible just get forgotten, taken for granted?
She wished so much she could be less mature, someone who could kick up a fuss, who could lean on others without restraint.
The grievances she’d bottled up for so long spilled over all at once, turning into tears.
“No… I don’t want you to care about me.”
Cecilia Ye struggled to push him away, her voice thick with sobs, which instantly brought Fu Zhiyé back to his senses.
Every single day was such a struggle for her—but this was their baby, even if she hadn’t told Fu Zhiyé yet.
In her heart, if possible, she wanted their child to have a complete family.
Just thinking about the baby growing up without a father left her wracked with guilt, feeling that she owed her child so much.
But then Fu Zhiyé was still so harsh with her. The frustrations of all this time surged up inside her, threatening to swallow her whole.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, Cecilia. I’m losing my mind. I shouldn’t have been so harsh—it’s my fault.”
His deep voice trembled slightly. Realizing how harsh he’d sounded, Fu Zhiyé eased his grip, worried he’d push her further away.
Cecilia Ye covered her face, burying her head in her knees, her ink-black hair wrapping her small frame. She sobbed quietly, “All you do is snap at me. Sob…”
Fu Zhiyé was at a complete loss. He could only hold her gently and whisper apologies.
Moments ticked by. At last, her sobs grew softer as she calmed down.
She lifted her face to look at Fu Zhiyé, her face still pale, eyes red and swollen.
“You should go. I want to rest.”
Seeing the stubborn refusal on her face, Fu Zhiyé forced himself to swallow the inexplicable ache in his heart. He wiped her tears attentively and said, “I want you to go to a hospital. Why are you throwing up so badly?”
Feeling the soft brush of his hand on her cheek, Cecilia Ye was stunned for a moment, then shook her head. “...I already went. It’s just my stomach acting up.”
Fu Zhiyé ignored her response and gently smoothed the crease between her brows, leaning closer to speak softly. “Cecilia, don’t push me away. Let me take care of you, okay?”
“I just want to be a little closer to you. I know I let you down before, made you sad, but I won’t do it again. If you’re sick, I’ll take care of you. If you find me annoying, I’ll give you space… I just can’t live without you…”
Words he’d never said before left Fu Zhiyé’s lips, every phrase letting go of his pride piece by piece.
He cupped Cecilia Ye’s slender neck, lowering his head so their foreheads touched. “Cecilia, I like you. I love you. I realized it too late, but I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you.”
Such gentle, lingering words made Cecilia Ye’s heart ache so much it was hard to breathe.
He said he loved her.
Fu Zhiyé was telling her he loved her.
Then what about everything that had already happened…?
His words grew slightly urgent. The hand around her neck softly caressed her skin in an almost intimate way.
“I just want things to go back to how they were. To come home and see you, to fall asleep beside you at night, to watch a movie with you on weekends. I’ll learn how to love you well—just give me a chance, please?”
Cecilia Ye pushed his hand away, scooting back, her voice breaking, “You don’t love me. You love someone else! Did you forget?”
“Fu Zhiyé, I’m petty—so petty I don’t even know why. I just want the person I love to love only me. I want to be the one he loves most, just like I love him the most. That’s the love I want—not what you’re offering…”
Looking at him through tear-filled eyes, Cecilia Ye didn’t dare let herself believe his words.
Even though what he said was so sweet it almost made her surrender.
“Alright. I… I won’t force you.” Fu Zhiyé’s voice was hoarse as he took a step back. He hadn’t expected a few words could erase the past. He’d prove his devotion with time, little by little.
He steadied himself, suppressing the bitterness in his chest, pretending everything was fine.
“So? Do you want to rest or eat something now?”
He gently tucked her hair behind her ear, worry shadowing his usually stern face.
Just the thought of those little dumplings made Cecilia Ye feel ill again. She pressed a hand to her chest, the mere mention of food making her uncomfortable.
Fu Zhiyé stepped back. “Alright. Get some rest. We’ll talk when you wake up, okay?”
Cecilia Ye nodded and lay down. She was exhausted—her body was tired, her heart even more so.
In front of Fu Zhiyé, there was nowhere she could escape.
She turned her back on him and closed her eyes, deciding to just let things be…
After tucking her in, Fu Zhiyé left the room. He finished the two bowls of cooled dumplings on the table, then cleaned up the dishes.
The old President Foster would never have done things like this. But now, as long as he could stay close to Cecilia, he found sweetness in it all.
Finishing up, he quietly returned to Cecilia Ye’s room and sat in the chair by her bed.
On the nightstand, the unfinished copy of ‘The Little Mermaid’ sat waiting.
Fu Zhiyé picked it up, an amused smile briefly flashing across his usually impassive features—she was still such an adult, yet she loved storybooks.
Glancing over, he saw more: ‘The Adventures of the Little Kitten,’ ‘The Soft Little Cotton Jacket,’ ‘The Bunny Pulls Up a Radish’—all picture books, neatly arranged on her shelf.
Outside, the sun was setting. Clouds drifted through the evening glow. Fu Zhiyé set the book down, glanced at the sleeping figure, turned on the bedside lamp, and quietly left the house.
He reminded himself to have just a bit more patience…
...
A hundred miles away in Shaoyang Town, Charles Chase’s car followed the ambulance closely.
They sped from Shaoyang toward the capital, with Ye Jing being granted medical leave from prison. Charles Chase had arranged a medical team to bring her to a hospital in the city.
Her illness wasn’t untreatable; it just required a huge sum for medical bills. To Charles Chase, this was pocket change, but for Ye Jing, locked in prison, it might as well have been a death sentence.
Now that he knew about it, he wasn’t going to just stand by. Cecilia had already suffered enough—she shouldn’t have to face more cruelty.
“President Chen, the penalty to Fu Group has been paid, but we never even had to use any of our contingency plans against their tricks.”
The assistant glanced at Charles Chase in the rearview mirror, reporting on company matters.
Charles Chase sighed. Given what he knew of Fu Zhiyé’s style, he ought to have pressed CG hard—even used his influence to squeeze CG out of every sphere in the capital.
Not to mention, aside from business losses, he’d given Fu Zhiyé a thorough beating—not exactly something a man like Fu Zhiyé would let slide easily.
Or perhaps… he still had other cards up his sleeve.
Charles Chase raised his eyebrow and sneered. Whatever. If Fu Zhiyé wanted to come after him, let him try.
Ye Jing was settled in the hospital, and Charles Chase headed back to the office.