Sang Lu clutched her heart, disregarding whether her question was abrupt, and quietly stared at Feng Yan.
From her angle, the man's brow bone was deep-set, his profile softly outlined by the gentle glow of the bedside lamp. His Adam's apple stood out starkly, and when his face was expressionless, the air around him felt heavy with tension.
After a few seconds of silence, Feng Yan lifted his eyelids to meet her gaze.
His cool eyes held a faint, unreadable amusement as his deep voice rumbled:
"Business trip. The flight is scheduled for next Thursday. It’ll take about a week."
Flight...
Catching the keyword, Sang Lu tightened her grip under the blanket.
She blurted out:
"Take the high-speed rail instead."
Feng Yan paused, a hint of confusion flickering across his face. "?"
"I heard the high-speed rail got faster recently," she said casually under his scrutinizing gaze. "And the scenery along the way is so much nicer... You can even stretch your legs during stops."
In the dim light, she noticed the stern lines of Feng Yan’s brow softening.
Encouraged, she pressed on:
"Besides, you’re always just shuttling between the office and home. Since it’s a business trip, why rush? Enjoy the view, relax a little—doesn’t that sound great?"
"You could even take photos—"
"Okay."
He cut her off with a single word.
Sang Lu blinked in surprise.
"You’ll take the high-speed rail?"
Feng Yan nodded. "Mm."
A flicker of joy sparked in her chest.
She hadn’t expected him to be so persuadable!
But the happiness was short-lived, quickly overshadowed by worry.
She’d managed to talk him out of flying this time, but what about next time?
She couldn’t possibly stop him from boarding a plane all the way until July.
This wasn’t a sustainable solution.
She needed a better plan.
Lost in thought, Sang Lu frowned.
Suddenly, a shadow fell over her.
Feng Yan reached out and lightly ruffled her hair.
"Sleep."
His low, husky voice drifted into her ears.
Sang Lu froze, instinctively murmuring, "Oh."
Feng Yan withdrew his hand and turned off the bedside lamp.
The room plunged into darkness.
Slipping under the thin blanket, Sang Lu curled on her side, trying to coax herself to sleep.
The lingering warmth from his touch still tingled faintly on her scalp.
His tone—firm yet wrapped in gentleness—hadn’t escaped her notice.
Her eyes hadn’t adjusted to the dark yet.
She couldn’t see a thing.
The window was shut tight, keeping out the evening breeze.
The curtains were drawn, blocking the moonlight.
"Goodnight."
The man’s magnetic voice reached her from behind.
Then, a light but firm weight settled around her waist as he pulled her into his chest, his arm resting snugly against her.
Sang Lu’s back pressed against him.
Her heart skipped.
After a stunned pause, she whispered back:
"Goodnight~"
Her muffled voice, softened by the blanket, carried a drowsy sweetness.
Unseen by her, Feng Yan’s eyes trembled violently behind her.
In that moment, both of them heard their own heartbeats loud and clear.
...
Thump—
Thump—
Sang Changfeng bustled around the kitchen, prepping ingredients.
The flat side of his cleaver thudded against garlic cloves.
After swiftly mincing a small pile, he wiped his hands on his apron and pushed aside the kitchen curtain:
"What time is it? Aren’t Lu Lu and the others here yet? Should we call them?"
"Look at you, so impatient—dinner’s not even ready—" Lin Yueyin started, walking toward the kitchen, but she cut off mid-sentence when the doorbell rang. Her face brightened as she turned to her husband. "See? They’re here. I’ll get the door."
The door swung open.
Sang Lu and Feng Yan stood outside.
Lin Yueyin’s smile widened at the sight of her daughter and son-in-law.
"Come in, come in! If you’d taken any longer, your dad would’ve camped at the gate waiting for you."
Chuckling at her own joke, Lin Yueyin pulled out slippers from the shoe cabinet.
Sang Lu, used to her mom’s teasing, grinned.
Beside her, the tall, straight-backed man glanced down, his gaze pausing.
On the mat by the shoe cabinet sat two pairs of slippers—one large, one small, matching in style but different in color.
"Got these new slippers just for you two—" Lin Yueyin followed his line of sight and smiled.
"—Try them on, see if they fit."
Feng Yan slipped them on. "They do."
"Mom’s eyes are like a measuring tape." Sang Lu rose on her tiptoes, leaning toward Feng Yan’s ear, and patted his shoulder with mock solemnity. "She must’ve noticed your slippers didn’t fit last time. Later, don’t slouch on the couch, or she might replace it with an extra-large one tailored to your height."
Feng Yan turned his head slightly. They were close enough that their shoulders brushed, and he caught the sweet, subtle fragrance clinging to her.
His handsome face stiffened for a second, as if genuinely weighing the truth of her words.
"If you’re going to talk that loud, you might as well drop the whisper act," Lin Yueyin teased, arms crossed as she shot her daughter an amused look.
Sang Lu burst into laughter.
The bright sound rang right by Feng Yan’s ear. His eyes traced the delicate curve of her brows and the faint pink dusting her fair cheeks.
Lin Yueyin watched her daughter’s carefree joy and couldn’t help laughing too.
Just then, the kitchen curtain rustled.
Sang Changfeng poked his head out, spatula in hand. "Are you two ganging up on me again?"
Lin Yueyin gave him a look. "Who’d waste time talking about you? We’re discussing Feng Yan."
Sang Lu cheerfully piled on. "Yeah, yeah, Dad, you’ve been dethroned..."
Feng Yan observed the scene.
Unnoticed by himself, a trace of warmth seeped into his dark eyes.
—"That’s it! Smile more. Smiling’s good! Frowning’s bad. Handsome when you smile."
Abruptly, he recalled the coaxing words Sang Lu had once said to him, as if soothing a child.
His gaze drifted back to her radiant face.
The stern lines of his brow relaxed, and the corner of his mouth lifted in a faint smile.
Once their shoes were changed, Lin Yueyin herded them into the living room.
"Mom, what are these boxes for?"
Sang Lu pointed at a stack of cardboard boxes near the study.
Lin Yueyin waved a hand. "Oh, I’m clearing out old stuff. Perfect timing—while your dad cooks, you two can tidy up your room. Throw away whatever you don’t need."
When Feng Yan had first visited, Lin Yueyin and Sang Changfeng had treated him with polite formality.
Now, the care remained—but the formality was gone.
They treated him no differently from Sang Lu.
Cleaning duty was no exception.
Sang Lu’s lips pursed. She was about to grumble, "I haven’t even sat down yet and you’re already putting me to work?"—when the man beside her, clad in an expensive dress shirt, calmly rolled up his sleeves and strode toward her room without hesitation.
Sang Lu: "..."
