Volume One, Chapter 47: Is This What It Means to Be Moved?

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Fu Shiyue hoped that if Lu Miao encountered danger, she would first ensure her own safety. The matter of punishing the perpetrators would be left to him; he would make those who bullied her suffer far worse than her feeble attempts at retaliation, inflicting pain a hundredfold.

“You are my inescapable responsibility.”

That phrase buzzed persistently in Lu Miao’s ears, her thoughts fluttering like fireflies sparkling outside the window, tangled in the gentle spring breeze.

Though she knew he was merely expressing the duty of a guardian and she shouldn’t overthink it, her heart nonetheless involuntarily skipped a beat.

“Have you forgiven me?” Fu Shiyue’s thin lips curled into a faint smile as he noticed she didn’t shy away.

Under the dim light, the man’s brows were deep-set and his face, strikingly masculine and sharp, wore a roguish grin that left Lu Miao momentarily distracted.

The rich scent of dark sandalwood wafted from him, and Lu Miao suddenly realized how close he had come.

She turned her head away, her lashes trembling as she lowered them. “Drive… I want to go back.”

Fu Shiyue caught her evasive glance and chuckled softly in a low voice.

“It’s over forty kilometers; if you’re tired, you can sleep in the car.”

He leaned back, his knotted fingers appearing in her line of sight as he held out a light gray thin wool blanket.

Though the car wasn’t cold, he draped it over her legs.

Lu Miao said nothing, resting her head against the seat, her gaze falling on his handsome right hand gripping the steering wheel, veins pronounced and alluring, a luxury watch glinting subtly.

With smooth control, he turned the car around.

Just like his steady temperament, this man drove with unwavering composure.

Lu Miao pretended to sleep, avoiding the awkward silence between them.

How could someone drive without uttering a single word? Throughout the journey, he only smoked one cigarette.

Someone called him en route, but after one ring, he hung up immediately. Glancing at Lu Miao beside him, he switched off the phone and tossed it into the center console.

Forty minutes later, the car stopped in front of a villa.

Lu Miao waited for the man to wake her, but to her surprise, Fu Shiyue got out and lifted her from the car.

“Mm.”

“I’m awake.”

“You can keep pretending to sleep in my arms.”

He clearly knew she wasn’t asleep but acted as if unaware.

Fu Shiyue strode into the villa carrying Lu Miao.

The guest room was prepared. Fu Shiyue set her down at the door. “Go shower, then rest early.”

Lu Miao entered, and Fu Shiyue remained outside. She hesitated, blushing, and turned back. “My change of clothes…”

“Check the wardrobe; they should all be inside.”

Lu Miao nodded and closed the door behind her.

Fu Shiyue took a deep breath, stood outside for a moment, then turned back to his bedroom.

Unlike Fu Shiyue’s master bedroom, the guest room was bright but minimalist, with brand-new furniture, clearly unused.

He lived alone in such a large house—didn’t he fear loneliness?

After her shower, Lu Miao was drying her hair when a knock sounded.

She opened the door to find Fu Shiyue holding a medical box.

“What for?”

Lu Miao wore a long cotton nightgown covering her arms and legs; her wet hair hung over her left shoulder, soaking through the thin fabric, subtly revealing the youthful curves beneath.

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Fu Shiyue appraised her briefly; his Adam’s apple slid down unconsciously. “You need treatment for the injury on your neck. Do you want to apply the medicine yourself, or should I help?”

Lu Miao paused, then let him in.

She sat on the bed as Fu Shiyue set the medical box aside. When he sat, the mattress noticeably sank beside her.

What a big guy, she thought, unaware he was staring intently at her.

“Lift your hair.”

Without hesitation, Lu Miao gathered her wet locks and clipped them at the back of her head, revealing the graceful curve of her neck.

On the side of her neck were bruises left by Wang Mingcheng’s grip and a shallow cut from a blade, already scabbed but dangerously close to an artery.

She had examined it carefully in the shower, her mind calm, thinking that surviving such calamity surely meant better fortune ahead. She turned her head away but inadvertently caught a fleeting shadow in Fu Shiyue’s eyes.

He dipped a cotton swab in iodine and disinfected the wound, then applied healing ointment before carefully placing a bandage.

“There’s also bruising on your neck. Want me to massage it?”

Lu Miao looked at him, noticing the ointment in his hands but no further action.

Usually, he would tug her neck roughly without asking; now he sought her consent.

She snorted softly, “Go ahead.”

“Bear with it.”

Fu Shiyue cupped her neck, spreading ointment with his rough, firm fingers, pressing hard on the bruised spots.

His hands were coarse and strong, making it genuinely painful.

It was hard to imagine such iron hands in the throes of passion with a woman—wouldn’t they torment her beyond endurance?

Lu Miao scolded herself silently for the dirty thought.

Her cheeks flushed as she stole a glance at the man, who looked much more serious than she felt—in contrast, she appeared like a mischievous rogue.

The girl’s neck was as tender as soft tofu, seemingly fragile enough to break with a pinch.

Fu Shiyue touched her smooth skin, striving not to think too deeply, yet the sweet fragrance she emitted drifted intermittently into his breath, teasing the fire in his abdomen.

Fu Shiyue had just showered as well, dressed in soft loungewear; the crease in his trousers was visibly stretched.

He paused without a sound. “Done.”

Lu Miao turned her head in confusion. “That’s it?”

It hadn’t even been three to five minutes.

Fu Shiyue quickly packed the medical box, stood, and said, “Dry your hair before sleeping. I’ll head out now.”

Lu Miao grabbed his shirt hem. “There’s no hairdryer in the bathroom. I’ve searched the whole room.”

Fu Shiyue’s movement faltered as his gaze shifted to her delicate hand; his throat tightened slightly. “I’ll get one for you.”

“Oh.” Lu Miao released her grip. He averted his eyes and left swiftly.

The young girl sat on the bed, swinging her legs, waiting.

Fu Shiyue questioned the butler after leaving the room.

The butler appeared puzzled. “I distinctly remember placing the hairdryer in the bathroom, Mr. Fu. You instructed me to prepare the room for Miss Lu; I ensured everything was there. The inventory list is still with me.”

He looked as if ready to beg for forgiveness.

Fu Shiyue was silent for a while, then waved him off. “Go rest.”

The butler, sweating profusely, hastily withdrew.

When Fu Shiyue returned with the hairdryer from his bedroom, Lu Miao quickly opened WeChat on her phone.

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Fu Shiyue plugged in the hairdryer and saw her still sitting motionless on the bed. “Dry your hair before playing.”

“Put it there first. I’ll dry it after I finish chatting.”

Fu Shiyue didn’t take her phone, so she looked up, eyes sharp and distinct as she stared at him.

They held a silent gaze for ten seconds before Fu Shiyue lowered his eyes with a sigh. “Fine, sit still. I’ll dry it for you.”

He handed back her phone.

“You dry it then.”

Lu Miao crossed her legs, turning her back to him, releasing the clip. Her wet hair, like willow catkins drifting outside the window, scattered softly before him.

He raised his hand, lifting her damp hair, fingers threading through it at the roots.

Lu Miao obediently sat still, letting him tend to her hair.

The gentle hum of the hairdryer made the room unusually quiet.

Lu Miao glanced down at her phone, the group chat alive with excitement.

“Gorgeous Arrival: Miao Miao, your uncle is so rich and generous!”

“Gorgeous Arrival: Handsome, wealthy, and doting on his niece — how did you, such a stubborn one, wind up with such fortune? Heaven must be smiling. I want an uncle like that too!”

“Qing Qing Zi Jin: Ask your grandma to have another baby, then you can keep him close!”

“Gorgeous Arrival: Alas… my grandma’s bones are cold in the grave.”

“Qing Qing Zi Jin: You really dare to say that—watch out or your grandma will rise from her coffin to scold you.”

“Qing Qing Zi Jin: Miao Miao, do you really have no chance with your uncle? I’m liking him more and more.”

Lu Miao looked up, gazing at the man’s sharp features under the light. His nose was straight, his brow strong yet attractive, eyes fixed intently on her hair, not prying at her screen.

Was he so kind to her truly because he was her guardian?

“Dry now,” Fu Shiyue touched her hair, confirming the roots were dry, then packed away the hairdryer in the bedside drawer.

“The hairdryer is here now. In the future, you…”

Lu Miao’s phone chimed repeatedly.

Xu Jin was acting wildly tonight, tagging her frantically in the group.

“Ahhh, Miao Miao, tell me! Do I have a chance with your uncle or not?”

“Do you think I still stand a chance?”

Endless questions flooded the screen.

Lu Miao’s head throbbed; unable to decide, she tossed the problem to the main party. “How should I reply?”

Fu Shiyue took the phone, glanced at it, and without hesitation typed a response, as if handling official business, his face cold and unreadable.

He finished quickly and handed it back.

“Go to bed early. Don’t sleep in tomorrow—I want to take you to school early.”

Curious about his swift reply, Lu Miao picked up the phone to read it.